Classics Retold

Boldwood did eventually call upon her. But she was not at home. He had made a mistake. Like him she was a farmer. She goes to market, show them the samples, bargain over the price and sell them corn. He did not like the idea of women doing business. So he forgot it, or has been trying to forget it. Here she has no bailiff she is managing the whole farm. Her probable whereabouts is out of doors at this time of the year. On inquiring for her at her house they had told him that she was at sheep washing, and he went off to seek her there.  He went on meditating along the path to the north of the meadow where the sheep washing pool lay. It was a circular basin of stone work in the meadow. Buttercup, daisy, reeds and sedge formed a palisade along its brink. To the north of the meadow were trees with thick foliage. Loud notes of cuckoos were resounding in the atmosphere.  Boldwood went meditating down the slopes with his eyes on his boots, which the yellow pollen from the buttercups ...

Boldwood was tenant of Lower Farm, a remote quarter of Weatherbury. In social standing he was near to aristocracy. It was in a remote part away from the market-house.  His house stood away from the road and the stables stood behind the house, and its lower portion being lost amid bushes of laurel. Inside, the air was thick and sweet with the heavy scent of cedar and warm hay.  Horses stood in their stalls, their massive flanks shifting as they ate, a steady rythmic grinding of teeth on oats, one bay mare stamped a hoof, the dull thud echoing against the wooden floorboards. At far end, a young colt paced restlessly in his box, his shadow flickering in the dim light. The steady grind of the animals occasionally diversified by the rattle of a rope or stamp of a foot. The stable and its surroundings were the cloister and almonry of Boldwood.  Here he paced up and down looking to the feeding of his animals. This way the forty year old man who had no sexual relationship with an...

Saturday.  Market-house. Boldwood as usual was present, when Bathsheba entered the market-house. Unlike the previous occasion, the farmer took a look at her. It was the look of a reaper at a passing train -- something foreign to his perception.  He saw her black hair, her curves and profile, her eyelids, eyes and eyelashes, and the shape of her ear. He noticed her skirt and the very sole of her shoes. To the best of his judgement she was a perfect one of an imperfect many. His heart began to move within him. Though forty years of age, Boldwood had never before scrutinized a woman so sharply and at wide angles.  Was her beauty real? He was not sure of himself. He furtively said to a neighbour, "Is Miss Everdene considered handsome?"  "Oh, yes; she was a good deal noticed the first time she came, you remember. A very handsome girl indeed."  It satisfied Boldwood very much. He wanted no more evidence. And this woman had sent him a missive "Marry me". Those tw...

There were many business women in Dorchester during the second half of 19th century. While many women's businesses in these period were in respectable fields like dressmaking, hat making, or running small shops, they were active  participants economic life of the area. The following were some of the prominent among them. 1. Sarah Baker (1805 - 1866) Identified as a 19th century business woman in Upham’s Corner. She operated a successful bandbox business in the Savin Hill for over 40 years. She had a savings of ,$5000 and in her will funded the construction of Baker Memorial Methodist Episcopal Church, at Upham's corner. 2. Judith Foster and Clementina Beach: Operated an academy for young women on Meeting-House Hill during 19th century. They founded Elite Boarding school for Girls in Dorchester. Women were involved in running private academies, and towards the end of the century, practising medicine. Example: Dr Mary Mary Safford-Blake (1834  - 1891) As in other parts of Boston...

All Saints Church, Melchester.  A week day. Morning. The small congregation mainly of women and girls rose from its knees at the end of a service without sermon. They were about to disperse, but their attention was arrested by smart footsteps entering the porch and coming up the central passage. It echoed with a ring unusual in a church. It was the clink of spurs. Everybody looked. A young cavalry soldier in red uniform, with the three chevrons of a sergeant upon his sleeve, strode up the aisle. His presence embarassed the women and girls; especially by intense vigour of his steps and the seriousness upon his face. He felt his movement challenging through, with women on either side of  the aisle. Passing on through the chancel arch he never paused, and came close to the altar railing. Here, he stood for a moment.  The deacon who had not yet took off his vestment saw the new comer and followed him to the communion rail. He whispered to the soldier and then beckoned to the ...

Jacquemart is a self operating machine, an animated, mechanised figure of a person, usually made from wood or metal, which strikes the hours on a bell with hammer. They are part of clocks or clocktowers and are erected at the top of the construction. It is also known as Jack of the Clock or Jack. One of the oldest and well-known jacquemarts is found on the south tower of the Cathedral Church of Notre Dame of Dijon. It was installed by Philip II of  Burgundy, 1383. The word is originally French, but is disputed.