This item is
Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)
Publicly Available
and licensed under:Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)
Files for this item
Download all local files for this item (1.29 MB)
- Name
- hartess-1581.txt
- Size
- 859.6 KB
- Format
- Text file
- Description
- Version of the work in plain text format
<Text id=HarTess> <Author>Hardy, Thomas</Author> <Title>Tess of the D'Urbervilles</Title> <Edition>A Norton Critical Edition. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1965</Edition> <Date>1891</Date> <body> <loc><locdoc>HarTess5</locdoc><milestone n=5> <div0 type=part n=I> <div1 type=chapter n=i> <p>On an evening in the latter part of May a middle-aged man was walking homeward from Shaston to the village of Marlott, in the adjoining Vale of Blakermore or Blackmoor. The pair of legs that carried him wre rickety, and there was a bias in his gait which inclined him somewhat to the left of a straight line. He occasionally gave a smart nod, as if in confirmation of some opinion, though he was not thinking of anything in particular. An empty egg-basket was slung upon his arm, the nap of his hat was ruffled, a patch being quite worn away at its brim where his thumb came in taking it off. Presently he was met by an elderly parson astride on a gray mare, who, as he rode, humme . . .
- Name
- tess-1581.txt
- Size
- 466.45 KB
- Format
- Text file
- Description
- Version of the work in plain text format
<text> <front> <tPage> <dTitle type=main>Tess of the d'Urbervilles</dTitle> <byLine>by <dAuthor>Thomas Hardy</dAuthor></byLine> <dImprint>Based on the Wessex Edition of 1912. Ed. Scott Elledge, second edition (New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 1979)</dImprint> </tPage> </front> <body> <div1 type='part' n=P1> <head>Phase the First—The Maiden</head> <div2 type='chapter' n=C1.1> <pb n=5> <p>On an evening in the latter part of May a middle-aged man was walking homeward from Shaston to the village of Marlott, in the adjoining Vale of Blakemore or Blackmoor. The pair of legs that carried him were rickety, and there was a bias in his gait which inclined him somewhat to the left of a straight line. He occasionally gave a smart nod, as if in confirmation of some opinion, though he was not thinking of anything in particular. An empty egg-basket was slung upon his arm, the nap of his hat was ruffled, a patch being quite worn away at its brim where his thumb came in taking it off. Presently h . . .
