Types of Prose Narratives: A Text-Book for the Story WriterFansler, Harriott Ely
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Types of Prose Narratives: A Text-Book for the Story Writer
Fansler, Harriott Ely
English prose literature; Storytelling
On all the roads leading to Goderville the peasants and their wives
were coming to town for market day. The men shambled along at an
easy-going gait, with bodies bent forward. Their long legs were
deformed and twisted through hard work--from the weight of the plough,
which at the same time throws the left shoulder too high and ruins
the figure; from mowing the grain, which effort causes the knees to
spread too far apart; and from all the other slow and painful labours
of country life. Their blue blouses, starched to a sheenlike varnish
and finished at collar and waistbands with little designs in white
stitching, stood from their bony bodies like balloons ready for flight,
with a head, two arms and two feet protruding.
Some of the men had a cow or calf in tow at the end of a rope, while
their wives followed close behind the animal, switching it over the
haunches with a leafy branch to hasten its pace.
The women carried large baskets, out of which stuck the heads of
chickens and ducks. They took much shorter and quicker steps than the
man. Their lanky, spare figures were decorated with mean little shawls
pinned across their flat breasts. Each head bore a white linen cover,
bound close to the hair and surmounted by a cap.
Now and then there went by a waggonette drawn by a pony on a jerky
trot, which jostled the two men on the seat in a ludicrous manner and
made the woman at the end of the cart hold the sides firmly for ease
from the rough jolting.
In the Goderville market-place was a great crowd of men and animals.
The horns of the cattle, the high, long-napped hats of the well-to-do
peasants, and the head-dresses of women bobbed above the level of that
crowd. Noisy voices, sharp and shrill, kept up a wild and ceaseless
clamour, only outdone now and then by a great guffaw of laughter from
the strong lungs of a jolly bumpkin, or a prolonged moo from a cow tied
to the wall of some house.
Everywhere it smelled of stables, of milk and manure, of hay and sweat.
The air was redolent with that sourish, disagreeable odour savouring of
man and beast which is peculiar to the labourers of the fields.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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