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ile; of incapacity。 But he was too healthy and
sanguine to be wretched; he was too much alive。 Yet his soul was
wretched almost to hopelessness。
He had loved one warm; clever boy who was frail in body; a
consumptive type。 The two had had an almost classic friendship;
David and Jonathan; wherein Brangwen was the Jonathan; the
server。 But he had never felt equal with his friend; because the
other's mind outpaced his; and left him ashamed; far in the
rear。 So the two boys went at once apart on leaving school。 But
Brangwen always remembered his friend that had been; kept him as
a sort of light; a fine experience to remember。
Tom Brangwen was glad to get back to the farm; where he was
in his own again。 〃I have got a turnip on my shoulders; let me
stick to th' fallow;〃 he said to his exasperated mother。 He had
too low an opinion of himself。 But he went about at his work on
the farm gladly enough; glad of the active labour and the smell
of the land again; having youth and vigour and humour; and a
ic wit; having the will and the power to forget his own
shortings; finding himself violent with occasional rages; but
usually on good terms with everybody and everything。
When he was seventeen; his father fell from a stack and broke
his neck。 Then the mother and son and daughter lived on at the
farm; interrupted by occasional loud…mouthed lamenting;
jealous…spirited visitations from the butcher Frank; who had a
grievance against the world; which he felt was always giving him
less than his dues。 Frank was particularly against the young
Tom; whom he called a mardy baby; and Tom returned the hatred
vio