An economist describes just just how a commercial Revolution-era English training isn’t as awful because it seems (though it appears bad).
After a couple of way too many rum-soaked basins of furmity, a guy during the reasonable in Casterbridge spouts down, saying:
“For my component, we don’t understand why males who ‘ve got wives and want that is don’t, shouldn’t get trip of ‘em since these gipsy fellows do their old horses. Why shouldn’t they put ‘em up and offer ‘em at auction to guys that are looking for such articles? Hey? Why, begad, I’d sell mine this full moment if anyone would purchase her!”
This is certainly followed by the inciting incident that begins Thomas Hardy’s The Mayor of Casterbridge. This is an isolated aberration, a lapse in judgment brought on by hitting the rum-laced furmity—a close relative of oatmeal, as unappetizing as that sounds in the work of fiction. Читать далее