And the country people, at work
in the fields far away, would raise their heads when the soft summer
breezes wafted the sound of the wheel to their ears and say,
"The jolly miller is grinding his corn." And again, at the times when
the mill was shut down and no sound of the wheel reached them, they
said to one another,
"The jolly miller has no corn to grind to-day," or, "The miller is
oiling the great wheel." But they would miss the creaking, monotonous
noise, and feel more content when the mill started again and made
music for them as they worked.
But no one came to the mill unless they brought corn to grind, for the
miller was a queer man, and liked to be alone. When people passed by
the mill and saw the miller at his work, they only nodded their heads,
for they knew he would not reply if they spoke to him.
He was not an old man, nor a sour man, nor a bad man; on the contrary
he could be heard singing at his work most of the time. But the words
of his song would alone have kept people away from him, for they were
always these:
"I care for nobody, no! not I,
Since nobody cares for me."
He lived all alone in the mill-house, cooking his own meals and making
his own bed, and neither asking nor receiving help from anyone. It is
very certain that if the jolly miller had cared to have friends many
would have visited him, since the country people were sociable enough
in their way; but it was the miller himself who refused to make
friends, and old Farmer Dobson used to say,
"The reason nobody cares for the miller is because he won't let them.
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