text_original: The brazen hands of the old clock at Hawksyard indicated a quarter to eight, as the carriage drove across the bridge, and under the arched gateway into the quadrangular garden, with its sunk pathways, and shallow steps, and border lines of crumb  ling old stone.
text_transcription: THE BRAZEN HANDS OF THE OLD CLOCK AT HAWKSYARD INDICATED A QUARTER TO EIGHT AS THE CARRIAGE DROVE ACROSS THE BRIDGE AND UNDER THE ARCHED GATEWAY INTO THE QUADRANGULAR GARDEN WITH ITS SUNK PATHWAYS AND SHALLOW STEPS AND BORDER LINES OF CRUMBLING OLD STONE
phonemes: ðə bɹˈeɪzən hˈændz ʌvðɪ ˈoʊld klˈɑːk æt hˈɔːksjɑːɹd ˈɪndᵻkˌeɪɾᵻd ɐ kwˈɔːɹɾɚ tʊ ˈeɪt, æz ðə kˈæɹɪdʒ dɹˈoʊv əkɹˌɑːs ðə bɹˈɪdʒ, ænd ˌʌndɚ ðɪ ˈɑːɹtʃt ɡˈeɪtweɪ ˌɪntʊ ðə kwɑːdɹˈæŋɡjʊlɚ ɡˈɑːɹdən, wɪð ɪts sˈʌŋk pˈæθweɪz, ænd ʃˈæloʊ stˈɛps, ænd bˈɔːɹdɚ lˈaɪnz ʌv kɹˈʌm lˈɪŋ ˈoʊld stˈoʊn.