They were elderly men, and had genial voices. Jude addressed them,
inquiring if they had come from Christminster.
"Heaven forbid, with this load!" said they.
"The place I mean is that one yonder." He was getting so
romantically attached to Christminster that, like a young lover
alluding to his mistress, he felt bashful at mentioning its name
again. He pointed to the light in the sky--hardly perceptible to
their older eyes.
"Yes. There do seem a spot a bit brighter in the nor'-east than
elsewhere, though I shouldn't ha' noticed it myself, and no doubt it
med be Christminster."
Here a little book of tales which Jude had tucked up under his arm,
having brought them to read on his way hither before it grew dark,
slipped and fell into the road. The carter eyed him while he picked
it up and straightened the leaves.
"Ah, young man," he observed, "you'd have to get your head screwed on
t'other way before you could read what they read there."
"Why?" asked the boy.
"Oh, they never look at anything that folks like we can understand,"
the carter continued, by way of passing the time. "On'y foreign
tongues used in the days of the Tower of Babel, when no two families
spoke alike. They read that sort of thing as fast as a night-hawk
will whir. 'Tis all learning there--nothing but learning, except
religion. And that's learning too, for I never could understand it.
Yes, 'tis a serious-minded place. Not but there's wenches in the
streets o' nights... You know, I suppose, that they raise pa'sons
there like radishes in a bed? And though it do take--how many years,
Bob?--five years to turn a lirruping hobble-de-hoy chap into a solemn
preaching man with no corrupt passions, they'll do it, if it can be
done, and polish un off like the workmen they be, and turn un out wi'
a long face, and a long black coat and waistcoat, and a religious
collar and hat, same as they used to wear in the Scriptures, so that
his own mother wouldn't know un sometimes.... There, 'tis their
business, like anybody else's."
"But how should you know"
"Now don't you interrupt, my boy. Never interrupt your senyers.
Move the fore hoss aside, Bobby; here's som'at coming... You must
mind that I be a-talking of the college life. 'Em lives on a lofty
level; there's no gainsaying it, though I myself med not think much
of 'em. As we be here in our bodies on this high ground, so be they
in their minds--noble-minded men enough, no doubt--some on 'em--able
to earn hundreds by thinking out loud. And some on 'em be strong
young fellows that can earn a'most as much in silver cups. As for
music, there's beautiful music everywhere in Christminster. You med
be religious, or you med not, but you can't help striking in your
homely note with the rest. And there's a street in the place--the
main street--that ha'n't another like it in the world. I should
think I did know a little about Christminster!"