[Wessex Tales by Thomas Hardy]@TWC D-Link bookWessex Tales CHAPTER VI--THE GREAT SEARCH AT NETHER-MOYNTON 4/15
Among the places tested and examined were Hollow trees Cupboards Culverts Potato-graves Clock-cases Hedgerows Fuel-houses Chimney-flues Faggot-ricks Bedrooms Rainwater-butts Haystacks Apple-lofts Pigsties Coppers and ovens. After breakfast they recommenced with renewed vigour, taking a new line; that is to say, directing their attention to clothes that might be supposed to have come in contact with the tubs in their removal from the shore, such garments being usually tainted with the spirit, owing to its oozing between the staves.
They now sniffed at - Smock-frocks Smiths' and shoemakers' aprons Old shirts and waistcoats Knee-naps and hedging-gloves Coats and hats Tarpaulins Breeches and leggings Market-cloaks Women's shawls and gowns Scarecrows And as soon as the mid-day meal was over, they pushed their search into places where the spirits might have been thrown away in alarm:- Horse-ponds Mixens Sinks in yards Stable-drains Wet ditches Road-scrapings, and Cinder-heaps Cesspools Back-door gutters. But still these indefatigable excisemen discovered nothing more than the original tell-tale smell in the road opposite Lizzy's house, which even yet had not passed off. 'I'll tell ye what it is, men,' said Latimer, about three o'clock in the afternoon, 'we must begin over again.
Find them tubs I will.' The men, who had been hired for the day, looked at their hands and knees, muddy with creeping on all fours so frequently, and rubbed their noses, as if they had almost had enough of it; for the quantity of bad air which had passed into each one's nostril had rendered it nearly as insensible as a flue.
However, after a moment's hesitation, they prepared to start anew, except three, whose power of smell had quite succumbed under the excessive wear and tear of the day. By this time not a male villager was to be seen in the parish.
Owlett was not at his mill, the farmers were not in their fields, the parson was not in his garden, the smith had left his forge, and the wheelwright's shop was silent. 'Where the divil are the folk gone ?' said Latimer, waking up to the fact of their absence, and looking round.
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