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“Nay； Bill； nay；” Bartle was saying in a kind tone； as he nodded
to Adam； “begin that again； and then perhaps； it’ll come to you
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what d； r； y spells。 It’s the same lesson you read last week； you
know。”
“Bill” was a sturdy fellow； aged four…and…twenty； an excellent
stone…sawyer； who could get as good wages as any man in the
trade of his years； but he found a reading lesson in words of one
syllable a harder matter to deal with than the hardest stone he had
ever had to saw。 The letters； he complained； were so “uncommon
alike； there was no tellin’ ’em one from another；” the sawyer’s
business not being concerned with minute differences such as
exist between a letter with its tail turned up and a letter with its
tail turned down。 But Bill had a firm determination that he would
learn to read； founded chiefly on two reasons： first； that Tom
Hazelow； his cousin； could read anything “right off；” whether it
was print or writing； and Tom had sent him a letter from twenty
miles off； saying how he was prospering in the world and had got
an overlooker’s place； secondly； that Sam Phillips； who sawed with
him； had learned to read when he was turned twenty； and what
could be done by a little fellow like Sam Phillips； Bill considered；
could be done by himself； seeing that he could pound Sam into
wet clay if circumstances required it。 So here he was； pointing his
big finger towards three words at once； and turning his head on
one side that he might keep better hold with his eye of the one
word which was to be discriminated out of the group。 The amount
of knowledge Bartle Massey must possess was something so dim
and vast that Bill’s imagination recoiled before it： he would hardly
have ventured to deny that the schoolmaster might have
something to do in bringing about the regular return of daylight
and the changes in the weather。
The man seated next to Bill was of a very different type： he was
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Adam Bede 308
a Methodist brickmaker who； after spending thirty years of his life
in perfect satisfaction with his ignorance； had lately “got religion；”
and along with it the desire to read the Bible。 But with him； too；
learning was a heavy business； and on his way out to…night he had
offered as usual a special prayer for help； seeing that he had
undertaken this hard task with a single eye to the nourishment of
his soul—that he might have a greater abundance of texts and
hymns wherewith to banish evil memories and the temptations of
old habit—or； in brief language； the devil。 For the brickmaker had
been a notorious poacher； and was suspected； though there was no
good evidence against him； of being the man who had shot a
neighbouring gamekeeper in the leg。 However that might be； it is
certain that shortly after the accident referred to； which was
coincident with the arrival of an awakening Methodist preacher at
Treddleston； a great change had been observed in the brickmaker；
and though he was still known in the neighbourhood by his old
sobriquet of “Brimstone；” there was nothing he held in so much
horror as any further transactions with that evil…smelling element。
He was a broad…chested fellow。 with a fervid temperament； which
helped him better in imbibing religious ideas than in the dry
process of acquiring the mere human knowledge of the alphabet。
Indeed； he had been already a little shaken in his resolution by a
brother Methodist； who assured him that the letter was a mere
obstruction to the Spirit； and expressed a fear that Brimstone was
too eager for the knowledge that puffeth up。
The third beginner was a much more promising pupil。 He was a
tall but thin and wiry man； nearly as old as Brimstone； with a very
pale face and hands stained a deep blue。 He was a dyer； who in the
course of dipping homespun wool and old women’s petticoats had
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Adam Bede 309
got fired with the ambition to learn a great deal more about the
strange secrets of colour。 He had already a high reputation in the
district for his dyes； and he was bent on discovering some method
by which he could reduce the expense of crimsons and scarlets。
The druggist at Treddleston had given him a notion that he might
save himself a great deal of labour and expense if he could learn to
read； and so he had begun to give his spare hours to the night…
school； resolving that his “little chap” should lose no time in
coming to Mr。 Massey’s day…school as soon as he was old enough。
It was touching to see these three big men； with the marks of
their hard labour about them； anxiously bending over the worn
books and painfully making out； “The grass is green；” “The sticks
are dry；” “The corn is ripe”—a very hard lesson to pass to after
columns of single words all alike except in the first letter。 It was
almost as if three rough animals were making humble efforts to
learn how they might become human。 And it touched the
tenderest fibre in Bartle Massey’s nature； for such full…grown
children as these were the only pupils for whom he had no severe
epithets and no impatient tones。 He was not gifted with an
imperturbable temper； and on music…nights it was apparent that
patience could never be an easy virtue to him； but this evening； as
he glances over his spectacles at Bill Downes； the sawyer； who is
turning his head on one side with a desperate sense of blankness
before the letters d； r； y； his eyes shed their mildest and most
encouraging light。
After the reading class； two youths between sixteen and
nineteen came up with the imaginary bills of parce