Muse

well you must be enjoying this book since you've made it this far and that makes me so happy you deserve to sleep well every night so be sure to check out the sleepy bookshelf premium feed where you'll find exclusive bonus episodes that way you'll never run out of stories to put you to sleep. Hello, it's Elizabeth, and I'm excited to share with you the newest show from Slumber Studios. It's called Sleepy History, and it's exactly what it sounds like. Intriguing stories, people, mysteries, and events from history, delivered in a supremely calming atmosphere. Explore the legend of El Dorado See what life was like for the Roman gladiators Uncover the myths and mysteries of Stonehenge You'll find interesting but relaxing episodes like these on Sleepy History and the same great production quality you've come to know and love from The Sleepy Bookshelf So check it out and perhaps you'll have another way to get a good night's rest. Just search Sleepy History in your preferred podcast player. Good evening and welcome to the Sleepy Bookshelf where we put down our worries from the day and pick up a good book. I'm Elizabeth, your host. Thank you so much for coming tonight. This evening we'll be continuing far from the madding crowd. But before we do, close your eyes and let every breath soften the weight of the day. With every slow exhale, imagine your thoughts drifting away like clouds across a quiet night sky. Feel your body growing heavier, supported completely, safe, and at ease. There is nothing to do, nowhere to be, and nothing to hold on to.

Bathsheba attended the Casterbridge Corn Market to manage her farm herself, surprising the local farmers with her confidence and independence. Though she attracted the attention of every man present, her neighbor, farmer William Baldwood, remained completely indifferent. His lack of interest intrigued Bathsheba, and she became increasingly curious about him. On the way home, she and Liddy discussed him, wondering whether his distant nature had resulted from a past disappointment in love. The following day, Bathsheba and Liddy jokingly played a childish game with a Bible portending to tell you who you would marry before Bathsheba remembered a valentine. It had originally been bought for a child named Teddy in the village but they mischievously decided to send it anonymously to Baldwood instead. They sealed it with the words, marry me, without considering the consequences. When Baldwood received the anonymous valentine, he believed it had been sent sincerely and became deeply affected by it. The letter filled him with thoughts of its unknown sender. Tonight, we pick back up at the Malthouse So just lie back and relax As I turn to the next pages Of Far From The Madding Crowd Chapter 15. A morning meeting. The letter again. The scarlet and orange light outside the Malthouse did not penetrate to its interior, which was as usual, lighted by a rival glow of similar hue, radiating from the hearth. The maltster, after having lain down in his clothes for a few hours, was now sitting beside

a three-legged table, breakfasting off bread and bacon. This was eaten on the plateless system, which is performed by placing a slice of bread upon the table, the meat flat upon the bread, a mustard plaster upon the meat, and a pinch of salt upon the whole, then cutting them vertically downwards with a large pocket knife till wood is reached, when the severed lump is impaled on the knife, elevated, and sent the proper way of food. The molster's lack of teeth appeared not to sensibly diminish his powers as a mill. He had been without them for so many years that toothlessness was felt less to be a defect than hard gums and acquisition. Indeed, he seemed to approach the grave as a hyperbolic curve approaches a straight line, less directly as he got nearer, till it was doubtful if he would ever reach it at all. In the ash pit was a heap of potatoes, roasting, and a boiling pipkin of charred bread called coffee. For the benefit of whomsoever should call, for Warren's was a sort of clubhouse, used as an alternative to the inn. I say so tight, we get a fine day and then down comes a snapper at night, was a remark now suddenly heard spreading into the malt house from the door, which had been opened the previous moment. The form of Henry Frey advanced to the fire, stamping the snow from his boots when about halfway there. The speech and entry had not seemed to be at all an abrupt beginning to the maltster, introductory matter being often omitted in this neighbourhood, both from word and deed. And the maltster, having the same latitude allowed him, did not hurry to reply. He picked up a fragment of cheese by pecking upon it with his knife. as a butcher picks up skewers. Henry appeared in a drab, curzimir greatcoat, buttoned over his smock frock,

the white skirts of the latter being visible to the distance of about a foot below the coattails, which, when you got used to the style of dress, looked natural enough, and even ornamental. It certainly was comfortable. Matthew Moon, Joseph Paulgrass, and other carters and wagoners followed at his heels with great lanterns dangling from their hands, which showed that they had just come from the cart-horse stables, where they had been busily engaged since four o'clock that morning. "'And how is she getting on without a bailey?' the molster inquired. Henry shook his head and smiled one of the bitter smiles, dragging all the flesh of his forehead into a corrugated heap in the centre. "'She'll rue it, surely, surely.' he said. Benji Pennyways were not a true man or an honest Bailey, as big a betrayer as Judas Iscariot himself, but to think she can carry on alone. He allowed his head to swing laterally three or four times in silence. Never in all my creeping up, never. this was recognized by all as the conclusion of some gloomy speech which had been expressed in thought alone during the shake of the head henry meanwhile retained several marks of despair upon his face to imply that they would be required for use again directly he should go on speaking All will be ruined, and ourselves too Or there's no meat in gentlemen's houses Said Mark Clark A headstrong maid, that's what she is And won't listen to no advice at all Pride and vanity have ruined many a cobbler's dog Dear, dear, when I think of it My sorrow's like a man in travel "'A true, Henry, you do. I've urged you,' said Joseph Paul Grass, in a voice of thorough attestation, and with a wire-drawn smile of misery. "'To do a mortal man no harm to have what's under her bonnet,' said Billy Smallbury, who had just entered, bearing his one tooth before him.

She can speak real language, must have some sense somewhere. Do you follow me? I do, I do. But no Bailey. I deserve that place, wailed Henry, signifying wasted genius by gazing blankly at visions of a high destiny, apparently visible to him on Billy Smallbury's smock frock. there twas to be i suppose your lot is your lot and scripture is nothing for if you do good you don't get rewarded according to your works but be cheated in some mean way out of your recompense no no i don't agree with you there said mark clark god's a perfect gentleman in that respect Good works, good pay, so to speak it, attested Joseph Paul Grass. A short pause ensued, and as a sort of on-tracked, Henry turned and blew out the lanterns, which the increase of daylight rendered no longer necessary, even in the malt house, with its one pane of glass. I wonder what a farmer woman can want with an arpsichord, a dulcimer, a piano, or whatever it is they call it, said the monster. Lady says she have a new one. Got a piano? It seems her old uncle's things were not good enough for her. She've bought her everything new. There's heavy chairs for the stout, weak and wiry ones for the slender, great watches, getting on to the size of Clark's to stand upon the chimney piece. Pictures, for the most part, wonderful frames, and long horse hair settles for the drunk, with horse hair pillars at each end, said Mr. Clark, likewise looking-glasses for the pretty and lie in books for the wicked. A firm, loud tread was now heard stamping outside. The door was opened about six inches and somebody on the other side exclaimed, Neighbours, have you got room for a few newborn lambs? Aye, sure, shepherd, said the conclave. the door was flung back till it kicked the wall and trembled from top to bottom with the blow mr oak appeared in the entryway with a steaming face hay bands wound about his ankles to keep

out the snow a leather strap round his waist outside the smock frock and looking altogether an epitome of the world's health and vigour. Four lambs, hung in various, embarrassing,

attitudes over his shoulders, and the dog, George, whom Gabriel had contrived to fetch from Norcombe, stalked solemnly behind. "'Well, shepherd Oak, an hour's lambin' this year if I would say it,' inquired Joseph Poorgrass. "'Terrible trying,' said Oak. I've been wet through twice a day, either in snow or rain, this last fortnight. Caney and I have timed our eyes tonight. Good few twins to why you're here. Too many by half, yes. There's a very queer lambing this year. We shan't have done by Lady Day. And last year, twirl over by sex of Jessamoyne Sunday, Joseph remarked. Bring on the rest, Caney, said Gabriel. and then run back to the ewes. I'll follow you soon. Caney Ball, a cheery-faced young lad with a small, circular orifice by way of a mouth, advanced and deposited two others, and retired as he was bidden. Oak lowered the lambs from their unnatural elevation, wrapped them in hay, and placed them round the fire. We've no lamb in hut here, as I used to have in Norcombe, said Gabriel, and it is such a plague to bring the weakly ones to a house. If it wasn't for your place here, Malta, I don't know what I should do in this keen weather. Now is it with you today, Malta?

Neither sick nor sorry, Shepard, but no younger. Aye, I understand.

"'No, sit down, Shepherd Oak,' continued the ancient man of malt.

"'And how was the old place at Norcombe when you went for your dog? I should like to see the old familiar spot, but Faith, I shouldn't know a soul there, no.' "'I suppose you wouldn't. It has altered very much.' "'Is it true Dickie Hill's wooden cider house is pulled down?'

Oh yes, years ago. And Dickie's cottage is just above it. Well, to be sure. Yes, and Tompkins' old apple tree is rooted that used to bear two hogsheads of cider. And no help from other trees.

Rooted? You don't say it. Ah, stirring times we live in. Stirring times.

And you can mine the old well that used to be in the middle of the place. that's turned into a solid iron pump with large stone trough and all complete.

Dear, dear. Oh, the face of nations, Alter. And what we live to see nowadays. Yes. And it's the same here. They've been talking, but now of the missus' strange doings.

What have you been saying about her? Inquired, Oak, sharply turning to the rest, and getting very warm. These middle-aged men have been pulling her over the coals for pride and vanity, said Mark Clark. But I say let her have rope enough. Bless her pretty face, shouldn't I like to do so? Upon her cherry lips. The gallant Mark Clark here made a peculiar and well-known sound with his own. Mark, said Gabriel sternly, but you mind this, none of that dalliance talk, that smack and coddle style of yours about Miss Everdeen, I don't allow it, do you hear? With all my heart, as I've got no chance, replied Mr. Clarke cordially. I suppose you've been speaking against her, said Oak, turning to Joseph Paul Grass with a very grim look. No, no, not a word, I, uh, it's a real joyful thing that she's no worse, that's what I say, said Joseph, trembling and blushing with terror. Matthew just said, Matthew Moon, what have you been saying? asked Oak. Why? No, I wouldn't harm a worm. No, not an underground worm, said Matthew Moon, looking very uneasy. Well, somebody has. And look here, neighbours, said Gabriel, though one of the quietest and most gentlest men on earth rose to the occasion with martial promptness and vigour.

as my fist. Here he placed his fist, rather smaller in size than a common loaf, in the mathematical centre of the molster's little table, and with it, gave a bump or two thereon, as if to ensure that all their eyes thoroughly took in the idea of fistiness before he went further. Now, the first man in the parish, but I hear prophesying bad of our mistress, why? Here was the fist, raised and let fall as Thor might have done with his hammer in assaying it. He'll smell and taste that, or I'm a Dutchman. all earnestly expressed by their features that their minds did not wander to holland for a moment on account of this statement but were deploring the difference which gave rise to the figure and mark clark cried hey just as i should have said the dog george looked up at the same time after the shepherd's menace, and though he understood English but imperfectly, began to growl. No, don't need take on, shepherd, so sit down, said Henry with a depreciating peacefulness equal to anything of the kind in Christianity. We hear that ye be an extraordinary, a good and clever man, shepherd. said Joseph Paul Grass, with considerable anxiety from behind the molster's bedstead, whither he had retired for safety. It is a great thing to be clever, I'm sure, he added, making movements associated with states of mind rather than body. We wish we were, don't we, neighbors? Oi, that we do, sure, said Matthew Moon, with a small, anxious laugh towards Oak, to show how very friendly disposed he was likewise. who's been telling you i'm clever said oak just blowed about from pillar to post quite common said matthew here that he can tell the time as well by the stars as we can by the sun and moon shepherd yes i can do a little that way said gabriel as a man of medium sentiments on the subject. And that ye can make sundials and print folks' names upon their wagons almost like a

copper plate with beautiful flourishes and great long tails. An excellent fine thing for ye to be such a clever man, Shepard. Joseph Poorgrass used to print to farmer James Everdeen's wagons before you came and could never mind which way to turn the jay's knees, could you, Joseph? Joseph shook his head to express how absolute was the fact that he couldn't. It's all you used to do in the wrong way. Like this, didn't you, Joseph? Matthew marked the name on the dusty floor with his whip handle, the J facing backwards. Now Farmer James would cuss and call thee a fool, wouldn't he, Joseph? and seeing his name looking so inside out like, continued Matthew Moon with feeling. I would, said Joseph meekly. Well, you see, I wasn't so much to blame for them jays and these to be such trying sons of witches for the memory to mind whether they faced backward or forward. And I always had such a forgetful memory too. "'Tis a very bad affliction for ye, in such a manner of calamities and other ways. "'Well, tis, but happy Providence ordered that it should be no worse, and I feel my thanks. "'As to Shepard there, I'm sure Mrs. Otter made Year Bailey such a fitting man for it as you be.' "'I don't mind owning that I expected it,' said Oak, frankly. "'Indeed, I hope for the place. "'At the same time, Miss Everdeen has a right to be her own bailey if she choose, "'and to keep me down to be a common shepherd only.' "'Oak drew a slow breath, looked sadly into the bright ash pit, "'and seemed lost in thoughts not of the most hopeful hue.

The genial warmth of the fire began to stimulate the nearly lifeless lambs to bleat and move their limbs briskly upon the hay, and to recognize, for the first time, the fact that they were born. Their noise increased to a chorus of bars, upon which Oak pulled the milk can from before the fire, and taking a small teapot from the pocket of his smock-frock, filled it with milk, and taught those of the helpless creatures, which were not to be restored to their dams, how to drink from the spout, a trick they acquired with astonishing aptitude. And she don't even let you have the skins of the dead lambs, are you? resumed Joseph Paul Grass, his eyes lingering on the operations of oak with the necessary melancholy. I don't have them, said Gabriel. He be very badly, you shepherd, hazarded Joseph again, in the hope of getting Oak as an ally in lamentation after all. I think she's took against you, that I do. Oh no, not at all, replied Gabriel hastily, and a sigh escaped him which the deprivation of the lambskins could hardly have caused. before any further remark had been added a shade darkened the door and baldwood entered the malt house bestowing upon each a nod of equality between friendliness and condescension ah oak i thought you were here he said i met the mail card ten minutes ago and a letter was put into my hand, which I opened without reading the address. I believe it is yours. You must excuse the accident, please. Oh, yes, not a bit of difference, Mr. Boldwood. Not a bit, said Gabriel readily. He had not had a correspondent on earth, nor was there a possible letter coming to him whose contents, in the whole parish, would not have been welcome to pursue. oak stepped aside and read the following in an unknown hand dear friend i do not know your name

but i think these few lines will reach you which i wrote to thank you for your kindness to me the night i left weatherbury in a reckless way i also return the money i owe you which you will excuse my not keeping as a gift. All has ended well, and I'm happy to say I'm going to be married to the young man who has courted me for some time, Sergeant Troy of the Eleventh Dragoon Guards, now quartered in this town. He would, I know, object to my having received anything except as a loan, being a man of great respectability and high honour, indeed a nobleman by blood. I should be much obliged to you if you would keep the contents of this letter a secret for the present, dear friend. We mean to surprise Weatherbury by coming there soon as husband and wife, though I blush to state it to one nearly a stranger. The sergeant grew up in Weatherbury. Thank you again for your kindness. I am your sincere well-wisher, Fanny Robin.

Have you read it, Mr. Boldwood? said Gabriel. If not, you had better do so. I know you were interested in Fanny Robin. Boldwood read the letter and looked grieved. Fanny. Poor Fanny. The end she is so confident of has not yet come. She should remember, and may never come. I see she gives no address. What sort of a man is this Sergeant Troy? said Gabriel. Hmm. I'm afraid not one to build much hope upon in such a case as this, the farmer murmured. Though he's a clever fellow, and up for everything, a slight romance attaches him too. His mother was a French governess, and it seems that a secret attachment existed between her and the late Lord Seven. She was married to a poor medical man, and soon after an infant was born and while money was forthcoming all went on well.

Unfortunately for her boy, his best friends died, and then he got a situation as a second clerk at a lawyer's in Casterbridge. He stayed there for some time and might have worked himself into a dignified position of some sort, had he not indulged in the wild freak of enlisting. I have much doubt if ever little Fanny will surprise us in the way she mentions. Very much doubt. A silly girl. A silly girl. The door was hurriedly burst open again, and in came running Caney Ball out of breath, his mouth red and open, like the bell of a penny trumpet from which he coughed with noisy vigour and great distention of face. now came ball said oak sternly why will you run so fast and lose your breath so

i'm always telling you of it yeah well oh yeah a puff of me breath went the wrong way mister please mr oak i made me cough

Well, what have you come for? I've run to tell you, said the junior shepherd, supporting his exhausted, youthful frame against the doorpost.

You must come directly. Two more yous have twinned. That's what's the matter, shepherd Oak.

Oh, that's it, said Oak, jumping up and dismissing for the present his thoughts on poor Fanny. You are a good boy to run and tell me, Cain, and you shall smell a large plum pudding someday as a treat. But before we go, Cainy, bring the tar pot, and we'll mark this lot and have done with them. Oak took from his illimitable pockets a marking iron, dipped it into the pot, and imprinted on the buttocks of the infant sheep the initials of her he delighted to muse on. B.E., which signified to all the region round that henceforth the lambs belonged to farmer Bathsheba Everdeen and to no one else. Now, Caney, shoulder your two and off. Good morning, Mr. Baldwood. The shepherd lifted the sixteen large legs and four small bodies he had himself brought, and vanished with them in the direction of the lambing field hard by, their frames being now in a sleep and hopeful state, pleasantly contrasting with their death's door plight of half an hour before. Boldwood followed him a little way up the field, hesitated, and turned back. He followed him again with a last resolve, annihilating return. On approaching the nook in which the fold was constructed, the farmer drew out his pocketbook, unfastened it, and allowed it to lie open on his hand. A letter was revealed. Bathsheba's. "'I was going to ask you, Oak,' he said with unreal carelessness. "'If you know who's writing, this is.' Oak glanced into the book and replied instantly with a flushed face. "'Miss Everdeens.' Oak had coloured simply at the consciousness of sounding her name. he now felt a strangely distressing qualm from a new thought the letter could of course be no other than anonymous or the inquiry would not have been necessary baldwood mistook his confusion sensitive persons are always ready with their is it i in preference to objective reasoning But the question was perfectly fair, he returned, and there was something incongruous in the

serious earnestness with which he applied himself to an argument on a valentine. You know it is always expected that privy inquiries will be made. That's where the fun lies. If the word fun had been torture, it could not have been uttered with a more constrained and restless counter.

than was Baldwood's then. Soon, parting from Gabriel, the lonely and reserved man returned to his house to breakfast, feeling twinges of shame and regret at having so far exposed his mood by those fevered questions to a stranger. He again placed the letter on the mantelpiece and sat down to think of the circumstances attending it by the light of Gabriel's information.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.