the story of an african farm-第28节

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covered　with　the　fossil　footprints　of　great　birds；　and　the　beautiful

skeleton　of　a　fish。　　We　have　often　tried　to　picture　in　our　mind　what　the

fossiled　remains　of　creatures　must　be　like；　and　all　the　while　we　sat　on

them；　we　have　been　so　blinded　by　thinking　and　feeling　that　we　have　never

seen　the　world。



The　flat　plain　has　been　to　us　a　reach　of　monotonous　red。　　We　look　at　it；

and　every　handful　of　sand　starts　into　life。　　That　wonderful　people；　the

ants；　we　learn　to　know；　see　them　make　war　and　peace；　play　and　work；　and

build　their　huge　palaces。　　And　that　smaller　people　we　make　acquaintance

with；　who　live　in　the　flowers。　　The　bitto　flower　has　been　for　us　a　mere

blur　of　yellow；　we　find　its　heart　composed　of　a　hundred　perfect　flowers；

the　homes　of　the　tiny　black　people　with　red　stripes；　who　move　in　and　out　in

that　little　yellow　city。　　Every　bluebell　has　its　inhabitant。　　Every　day　the

karoo　shows　us　a　new　wonder　sleeping　in　its　teeming　bosom。



On　our　way　back　to　work　we　pause　and　stand　to　see　the　ground…spider　make

its　trap；　bury　itself　in　the　sand；　and　then　wait　for　the　falling　in　of　its

enemy。



Further　on　walks　a　horned　beetle；　and　near　him　starts　open　the　door　of　a

spider；　who　peeps　out　carefully；　and　quickly　pulls　it　down　again。　　On　a

karoo…bush　a　green　fly　is　laying　her　silver　eggs。　　We　carry　them　home；　and

see　the　shells　pierced；　the　spotted　grub　come　out；　turn　to　a　green　fly；　and

flit　away。　　We　are　not　satisfied　with　what　Nature　shows　us；　and　we　see

something　for　ourselves。　　Under　the　white　hen　we　put　a　dozen　eggs；　and

break　one　daily；　to　see　the　white　spot　wax　into　the　chicken。　　We　are　not

excited　or　enthusiastic　about　it；　but　a　man　is　not　to　lay　his　throat　open；

he　must　think　of　something。　　So　we　plant　seeds　in　rows　on　our　dam…wall；　and

pull　one　up　daily　to　see　how　it　goes　with　them。　　Alladeen　buried　her

wonderful　stone；　and　a　golden　palace　sprung　up　at　her　feet。　　We　do　far

more。　　We　put　a　brown　seed　in　the　earth；　and　a　living　thing　starts　out

starts　upwardwhy；　no　more　than　Alladeen　can　we　saystarts　upward；　and

does　not　desist　till　it　is　higher　than　our　heads；　sparkling　with　dew　in　the

early　morning；　glittering　with　yellow　blossoms；　shaking　brown　seeds　with

little　embryo　souls　on　to　the　ground。　　We　look　at　it　solemnly；　from　the

time　it　consists　of　two　leaves　peeping　above　the　ground　and　a　soft　white

root；　till　we　have　to　raise　our　faces　to　look　at　it；　but　we　find　no　reason

for　that　upward　starting。



We　look　into　dead　ducks　and　lambs。　　In　the　evening　we　carry　them　home；

spread　newspapers　on　the　floor；　and　lie　working　with　them　till　midnight。　

With　a　started　feeling　near　akin　to　ecstasy　we　open　the　lump　of　flesh

called　a　heart；　and　find　little　doors　and　strings　inside。　　We　feel　them；

and　put　the　heart　away；　but　every　now　and　then　return　to　look；　and　to　feel

them　again。　　Why　we　like　them　so　we　can　hardly　tell。



A　gander　drowns　itself　in　our　dam。　　We　take　it　out；　and　open　it　on　the

bank；　and　kneel　looking　at　it。　　Above　are　the　organs　divided　by　delicate

tissues；　below　are　the　intestines　artistically　curved　in　a　spiral　form；　and

each　tier　covered　by　a　delicate　network　of　blood…vessels　standing　out　red

against　the　faint　blue　background。　　Each　branch　of　the　blood…vessels　is

comprised　of　a　trunk；　bifurcating　and　rebifurcating　into　the　most　delicate；

hair…like　threads；　symmetrically　arranged。　　We　are　struck　with　its　singular

beauty。　　And；　moreoverand　here　we　drop　from　our　kneeling　into　a　sitting

posturethis　also　we　remark：　　of　that　same　exact　shape　and　outline　is　our

thorn…tree　seen　against　the　sky　in　mid…winter：　　of　that　shape　also　is

delicate　metallic　tracery　between　our　rocks；　in　that　exact　path　does　our

water　flow　when　without　a　furrow　we　lead　it　from　the　dam；　so　shaped　are　the

antlers　of　the　horned　beetle。　　How　are　these　things　related　that　such　deep

union　should　exist　between　them　all？　　Is　it　chance？　　Or；　are　they　not　all

the　fine　branches　of　one　trunk；　whose　sap　flows　through　us　all？　　That　would

explain　it。　　We　nod　over　the　gander's　inside。



This　thing　we　call　existence；　is　it　not　a　something　which　has　its　roots　far

down　below　in　the　dark；　and　its　branches　stretching　out　into　the　immensity

above；　which　we　among　the　branches　cannot　see？　　Not　a　chance　jungle；　a

living　thing；　a　One。　　The　thought　gives　us　intense　satisfaction；　we　cannot

tell　why。



We　nod　over　the　gander；　then　start　up　suddenly；　look　into　the　blue　sky；

throw　the　dead　gander　and　the　refuse　into　the　dam；　and　go　to　work　again。



And　so；　it　comes　to　pass　in　time；　that　the　earth　ceases　for　us　to　be　a

weltering　chaos。　　We　walk　in　the　great　hall　of　life；　looking　up　and　round

reverentially。　　Nothing　is　despicableall　is　meaning…full；　nothing　is

smallall　is　part　of　a　whole；　whose　beginning　and　end　we　know　not。　　The

life　that　throbs　in　us　is　a　beginning　and　end　we　know　not。　　The　life　that

throbs　in　us　is　a　pulsation　from　it；　too　mighty　for　our　comprehension；　not

too　small。



And　so；　it　comes　to　pass　at　last；　that　whereas　the　sky　was　at　first　a　small

blue　rag　stretched　out　over　us；　and　so　low　that　our　hands　might　touch　it；

pressing　down　on　us；　it　raises　itself　into　an　immeasurable　blue　arch　over

our　heads；　and　we　begin　to　live　again。





Chapter　2。II。　　Waldo's　Stranger。



Waldo　lay　on　his　stomach　on　the　red　sand。　　The　small　ostriches　he　herded

wandered　about　him；　pecking　at　the　food　he　had　cut；　or　at　pebbles　and　dry

sticks。　　On　his　right　lay　the　graves；　to　his　left　the　dam；　in　his　hand　was

a　large　wooden　post　covered　with　carvings；　at　which　he　worked。　　Doss　lay

before　him　basking　in　the　winter　sunshine；　and　now　and　again　casting　an

expectant　glance　at　the　corner　of　the　nearest　ostrich　camp。　　The　scrubby

thorn…trees　under　which　they　lay　yielded　no　shade；　but　none　was　needed　in

that　glorious　June　weather；　when　in　the　hottest　part　of　the　afternoon　the

sun　was　but　pleasantly　warm；　and　the　boy　carved　on；　not　looking　up；　yet

conscious　of　the　brown　serene　earth　about　him　and　the　intensely　blue　sky

above。



Presently；　at　the　corner　of　the　camp；　Em　appeared；　bearing　a　covered　saucer

in　one　hand　and　in　the　other　a　jug；　with　a　cup　in　the　top。　　She　was　grown

into　a　premature　little　old　woman　of　sixteen；　ridiculously　fat。　　The　jug

and　saucer　she　put　down　on　the　ground　before　the　dog　and　his　master　and

dropped　down　beside　them　herself；　panting　and　out　of　breath。



〃Waldo；　as　I　came　up　the　camps　I　met　some　one　on　horseback；　and　I　do

believe　it　must　be　the　new　man　that　is　coming。〃



The　new　man　was　an　Englishman　to　whom　the　Boer…woman　had　hired　half　the

farm。



〃Hum！〃　said　Waldo。



〃He　is　quite　young；〃　said　Em；　holding　her　side；　〃and　he　has　brown　hair；　and

beard　curling　close　to　his　face；　and　such　dark　blue　eyes。　　And；　Waldo；　I

was　so　ashamed！　　I　was　just　looking　back　to　see；　you　know；　and　he　happened

just　to　be　looking　back　too；　and　we　looked　right　into　each　other's　faces；

and　he　got　red；　and　I　got　so　red。　　I　believe　he　is　the　new　man。〃



〃Yes；〃　said　Waldo。



〃I　must　go　now。　　Perhaps　he　has　brought　us　letters　from　the　post　from

Lyndall。　　You　know　she　can't　stay　at　school　much　longer；　she　must　come　back

soon。　　And　the　new　man　will　have　to　stay　with　us　till　his　house　is　built。　

I　must　get　his　room　ready。　　Good…bye！〃



She　tripped　off　again；　and　Waldo　carved　on　at　his　post。　　Doss　lay　with　his

nose　close　to　the　covered　saucer；　and　smelt　that　some　one　had　made　nice

little　fat　cakes　that　afternoon。　　Both　were　so　intent　on　their　occupation

that　not　till　a　horse's　hoofs　beat　beside　them　in　the　sand　did　they　look　up

to　see　a　rider　drawing　in　his　steed。



He　was　certainly　not　the　stranger　whom　Em　had　described。　　A　dark；　somewhat

French…looking　little　man　of　eight…and…twenty；　rather　stout；　with　heavy；

cloudy　eyes　and　pointed　moustaches。　　His　horse　was　a　fiery　creature；　well

caparisoned；　a　highly…finished　saddlebag　hung　from　the　saddle；　the　man's

hands　were　gloved；　and　he　presented　the　appearance…an　appearance　rare　on

that　farmof　a　well…dressed　gentleman。



In　an　uncommonly　melodious　voice　he　inquired　whether　he　might　be　allowed　to

remain　there　for　an　hour。　　Waldo　directed　him　to　the　farmhouse；　but　the

stranger　declined。　　He　would　merely　rest　under　the　trees　and　give　his　horse

water。　　He　removed　the　saddle　and　Waldo　led　the　animal　away　to　the　dam。　

When　he　returned；　the　stranger　had　settled　himself　under　the　trees；　with

his　back　against　the　saddle。　　The　boy　offered　him　of　the　cakes。　　He

declined；　but　took　a　draught　from　the　jug；　and　Waldo　lay　down　not　far　off

and　fell　to　work　again。　　It　mattered　nothing　if　cold　eyes　saw　it。　　It　was

not　his　sheep…shearing　machine。　　With　material　loves；　as　with　human；　we　go

mad　once；　love　out；　and　have　done。　　We　never　get　up　the　true　enthusiasm　a

second　time。　　This　was　but　a　thing　he　had　made；　laboured　over；　loved　and

likednothing　morenot　his　machine。



The　stranger　forced　himself　lower　down　in　the　saddle　and　yawned。　　It　was　a

drowsy　afternoo