the story of an african farm-第9节

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Chapter　1。V。　　Sunday　Services。



Service　No。　I。



The　boy　Waldo　kissed　the　pages　of　his　book　and　looked　up。　　Far　over　the

flat　lay　the　kopje；　a　mere　speck；　the　sheep　wandered　quietly　from　bush　to

bush；　the　stillness　of　the　early　Sunday　rested　everywhere；　and　the　air　was

fresh。



He　looked　down　at　his　book。　　On　its　page　a　black　insect　crept。　　He　lifted

it　off　with　his　finger。　　Then　he　leaned　on　his　elbow；　watching　its

quivering　antennae　and　strange　movements；　smiling。



〃Even　you；〃　he　whispered；　〃shall　not　die。　　Even　you　He　loves。　　Even　you　He

will　fold　in　His　arms　when　He　takes　everything　and　makes　it　perfect　and

happy。〃



When　the　thing　had　gone　he　smoothed　the　leaves　of　his　Bible　somewhat

caressingly。　　The　leaves　of　that　book　had　dropped　blood　for　him　once；　they

had　taken　the　brightness　out　of　his　childhood；　from　between　them　had　sprung

the　visions　that　had　clung　about　him　and　made　night　horrible。　　Adder…like

thoughts　had　lifted　their　heads；　had　shot　out　forked　tongues　at　him；　asking

mockingly　strange；　trivial　questions　that　he　could　not　answer；　miserable

child：



Why　did　the　women　in　Mark　see　only　one　angel　and　the　women　in　Luke　two？　

Could　a　story　be　told　in　opposite　ways　and　both　ways　be　true？　　Could　it？

could　it？　　Then　again：　　Is　there　nothing　always　right；　and　nothing　always

wrong？　　Could　Jael　the　wife　of　Heber　the　Kenite　〃put　her　hand　to　the　nail；

and　her　right　hand　to　the　workman's　hammer？〃　and　could　the　Spirit　of　the

Lord　chant　paeans　over　her；　loud　paeans；　high　paeans；　set　in　the　book　of

the　Lord；　and　no　voice　cry　out　it　was　a　mean　and　dastardly　sin　to　lie；　and

kill　the　trusting　in　their　sleep？　　Could　the　friend　of　God　marry　his　own

sister；　and　be　beloved；　and　the　man　who　does　it　today　goes　to　hell；　to

hell？　　Was　there　nothing　always　right　or　always　wrong？



Those　leaves　had　dropped　blood　for　him　once：　　they　had　made　his　heart　heavy

and　cold；　they　had　robbed　his　childhood　of　its　gladness；　now　his　fingers

moved　over　them　caressingly。



〃My　father　God　knows；　my　father　knows；〃　he　said；　〃we　cannot　understand；　He

knows。〃　　　After　a　while　he　whispered；　smiling〃I　heard　your　voice　this

morning　when　my　eyes　were　not　yet　open；　I　felt　you　near　me；　my　Father。　　Why

do　you　love　me　so？　　His　face　was　illuminated。　　〃In　the　last　four　months　the

old　question　has　gone　from　me。　　I　know　you　are　good；　I　know　you　love

everything；　I　know；　I　know；　I　know！　　I　could　not　have　borne　it　any　more；

not　any　more。〃　　He　laughed　softly。　　〃And　all　the　while　I　was　so　miserable

you　were　looking　at　me　and　loving　me；　and　I　never　knew　it。　　But　I　know　it

now。　I　feel　it；〃　said　the　boy；　and　he　laughed　low；　〃I　feel　it！〃　he　laughed。



After　a　while　he　began　partly　to　sing；　partly　to　chant　the　disconnected

verses　of　hymns；　those　which　spoke　his　gladness；　many　times　over。　　The

sheep　with　their　senseless　eyes　turned　to　look　at　him　as　he　sang。



At　last　he　lapsed　into　quiet。　　Then　as　the　boy　lay　there　staring　at　bush

and　sand；　he　saw　a　vision。



He　had　crossed　the　river　of　Death；　and　walked　on　the　other　bank　in　the

Lord's　land　of　Beulah。　　His　feet　sank　into　the　dark　grass；　and　he　walked

alone。　　Then；　far　over　the　fields；　he　saw　a　figure　coming　across　the　dark

green　grass。　　At　first　he　thought　it　must　be　one　of　the　angels；　but　as　it

came　nearer　he　began　to　feel　what　it　was。　　And　it　came　closer；　closer　to

him；　and　then　the　voice　said；　〃Come；〃　and　he　knew　surely　Who　it　was。　　He

ran　to　the　dear　feet　and　touched　them　with　his　hands；　yes；　he　held　them

fast！　　He　lay　down　beside　them。　　When　he　looked　up　the　face　was　over　him；

and　the　glorious　eyes　were　loving　him；　and　they　two　were　there　alone

together。



He　laughed　a　deep　laugh；　then　started　up　like　one　suddenly　awakened　from

sleep。



〃Oh；　God！　　He　cried；　〃I　cannot　wait；　I　cannot　wait！　　I　want　to　die；　I　want

to　see　Him；　I　want　to　touch　him。　　Let　me　die！〃　　He　folded　his　hands；

trembling。　　〃How　can　I　wait　so　longfor　long；　long　years　perhaps？　　I　want

to　dieto　see　Him。　　I　will　die　any　death。　　Oh；　let　me　come！〃



Weeping　he　bowed　himself；　and　quivered　from　head　to　foot。　　After　a　long

while　he　lifted　his　head。



〃Yes；　I　will　wait；　I　will　wait。　　But　not　long；　do　not　let　it　be　very　long；

Jesus　King。　　I　want　you；　oh；　I　want　yousoon；　soon！〃　　He　sat　still；

staring　across　the　plain　with　his　tearful　eyes。



Service　No。　II。



In　the　front　room　of　the　farmhouse　sat　Tant　Sannie　in　her　elbow…chair。　　In

her　hand　was　her　great　brass…clasped　hymn…book；　round　her　neck　was　a　clean

white　handkerchief；　under　her　feet　was　a　wooden　stove。　　There　too　sat　Em

and　Lyndall；　in　clean　pinafores　and　new　shoes。　　There　too　was　the　spruce

Hottentot　in　a　starched　white　kapje；　and　her　husband　on　the　other　side　of

the　door；　with　his　wool　oiled　and　very　much　combed　out；　and　staring　at　his

new　leather　boots。　　The　Kaffer　servants　were　not　there　because　Tant　Sannie

held　they　were　descended　from　apes；　and　needed　no　salvation。　　But　the　rest

were　gathered　for　the　Sunday　service；　and　waited　the　officiator。



Meanwhile　Bonaparte　and　the　German　approached　arm　in　armBonaparte

resplendent　in　the　black　cloth　clothes；　a　spotless　shirt；　and　a　spotless

collar；　the　German　in　the　old　salt…and…pepper；　casting　shy　glances　of

admiration　at　his　companion。



At　the　front　door　Bonaparte　removed　his　hat　with　much　dignity；　raised　his

shirt　collar；　and　entered。　　To　the　centre　table　he　walked；　put　his　hat

solemnly　down　by　the　big　Bible；　and　bowed　his　head　over　it　in　silent

prayer。



The　Boer…woman　looked　at　the　Hottentot；　and　the　Hottentot　looked　at　the

Boer…woman。



There　was　one　thing　on　earth　for　which　Tant　Sannie　had　a　profound

reverence；　which　exercised　a　subduing　influence　over　her；　which　made　her

for　the　time　a　better　womanthat　thing　was　new；　shining　black　cloth。　　It

made　her　think　of　the　predikant；　it　made　her　think　of　the　elders　who　sat　in

the　top　pew　of　the　church　on　Sundays；　with　the　hair　so　nicely　oiled；　so

holy　and　respectable；　with　their　little　swallow…tailed　coats；　it　made　her

think　of　heaven；　where　everything　was　so　holy　and　respectable；　and　nobody

wore　tancord；　and　the　littlest　angel　had　a　black…tailed　coat。　　She　wished

she　hadn't　called　him　a　thief　and　a　Roman　Catholic。　　She　hoped　the　German

hadn't　told　him。　　She　wondered　where　those　clothes　were　when　he　came　in

rags　to　her　door。　　There　was　no　doubt；　he　was　a　very　respectable　man；　a

gentleman。



The　German　began　to　read　a　hymn。　　At　the　end　of　each　line　Bonaparte

groaned；　and　twice　at　the　end　of　every　verse。



The　Boer…woman　had　often　heard　of　persons　groaning　during　prayers；　to　add　a

certain　poignancy　and　finish　to　them；　old　Jan　Vanderlinde；　her　mother's

brother；　always　did　it　after　he　was　converted；　and　she　would　have　looked

upon　it　as　no　especial　sign　of　grace　in　any　one；　but　to　groan　at　hymn…time！

She　was　startled。　　She　wondered　if　he　remembered　that　she　shook　her　fist　in

his　face。　　This　was　a　man　of　God。　　They　knelt　down　to　pray。　　The　Boer…woman

weighed　two　hundred　and　fifty　pounds；　and　could　not　kneel。　　She　sat　in　her

chair；　and　peeped　between　her　crossed　fingers　at　the　stranger's　back。　　She

could　not　understand　what　he　said；　but　he　was　in　earnest。　　He　shook　the

chair　by　the　back　rail　till　it　made　quite　a　little　dust　on　the　mud　floor。



When　they　rose　from　their　knees　Bonaparte　solemnly　seated　himself　in　the

chair　and　opened　the　Bible。　　He　blew　his　nose；　pulled　up　his　shirt　collar；

smoothed　the　leaves；　stroked　down　his　capacious　waistcoat；　blew　his　nose

again；　looked　solemnly　round　the　room；　then　began。



〃All　liars　shall　have　their　part　in　the　lake　which　burneth　with　fire　and

brimstone；　which　is　the　second　death。〃



Having　read　this　portion　of　Scripture；　Bonaparte　paused　impressively；　and

looked　all　round　the　room。



〃I　shall　not；　my　dear　friends；〃　he　said；　〃long　detain　you。　　Much　of　our

precious　time　has　already　fled　blissfully　from　us　in　the　voice　of

thanksgiving　and　the　tongue　of　praise。　　A　few；　a　very　few　words　are　all　I

shall　address　to　you；　and　may　they　be　as　a　rod　of　iron　dividing　the　bones

from　the　marrow；　and　the　marrow　from　the　bones。



〃In　the　first　place：　　What　is　a　liar？〃



The　question　was　put　so　pointedly；　and　followed　by　a　pause　so　profound；

that　even　the　Hottentot　man　left　off　looking　at　his　boots　and　opened　his

eyes；　though　he　understood　not　a　word。



〃I　repeat；〃　said　Bonaparte；　〃what　is　a　liar？〃



The　sensation　was　intense；　the　attention　of　the　audience　was　riveted。



〃Have　you　any　of　you　ever　seen　a　liar；　my　dear　friends？〃　　There　was　a　still

longer　pause。　　〃I　hope　not；　I　truly　hope　not。　　But　I　will　tell　you　what　a

liar　is。　　I　knew　a　liar　oncea　little　boy　who　lived　in　Cape　Town；　in　Short

Market　Street。　　His　mother　and　I　sat　together　one　day；　discoursing　about

our　souls。



〃'Here；　Sampson；'　said　his　mother；　'go　and　buy　sixpence　of　meiboss　from　the

Malay　round　the　corner。'



〃When　he　came　back　she　said：　　'How　much　have　you　got？'