We pass rapidly on into the month of March, to a breezy day without sunshine, frost, or dew.
On Yallbury Hill, about midway between Weatherbury and Casterbridge, where the turnpike road passes over the crest, a numerous concourse of people had gathered, the eyes of the greater number being frequently stretched afar in a northerly direction.
The groups consisted of a throng of idlers, a party of javelin-men, and two trumpeters, and in the midst were carriages, one of which contained the high sheriff.
With the idlers, many of whom had mounted to the top of a cutting formed for the road, were several Weatherbury men and boys—among others Poorgrass, Coggan, and Cain Ball.
At the end of half an hour a faint dust was seen in the expected quarter, and shortly after a travelling-carriage, bringing one of the two judges on that circuit came up the hill and halted on the top.
The judge changed carriages whilst a flourish was blown by the big-cheeked trumpeters, and a procession being formed of the vehicles and javelin-men, they all proceeded towards the town, excepting the Weatherbury men, who as soon as they had seen the judge move off returned home again to their work.
'Joseph, I seed you squeezing close to the carriage,' said Coggan, as they walked. 'Did ye notice my lord judge’s face? ' 'I did,' said Poorgrass.
'I looked hard at en, as if I would read his very soul; and there was mercy in his eyes—or to speak with the exact truth required of us at this solemn time, in the eye that was towards me.
' 'Well, I hope for the best,' said Coggan, though bad that must be. However, I sha’n’t go to the trial, and I’d advise the rest of ye that bain’t wanted to bide