"Though there is no name, I think it is for your shepherd." Boldwood looked then at the address-- To the New Shepherd, Weatherbury Farm, Near Casterbridge "Oh--what a mistake!--it is not mine.

Nor is it for my shepherd.

It is for Miss Everdene's.

You had better take it on to him--Gabriel Oak--and say I opened it in mistake." At this moment, on the ridge, up against the blazing sky, a figure was visible, like the black snuff in the midst of a candle-flame.
Then it moved and began to bustle about vigorously from place to place, carrying square skeleton masses, which were riddled by the same rays.

A small figure on all fours followed behind.