The Story of an African Farm

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.

e weather, when in the hottest part of the afternoon the sun was but pleasantly warm; and the boy carve

a cup in the top. She was grown into a premature little old woman of sixteen, ridiculously fat. The jug and saucer sh

ome one on horseback, and I do believe

hman to whom the Boer-wom

said

ark blue eyes. And, Waldo, I was so ashamed! I was just looking back to see, you know, and he happened just to be looki

said

ow she can't stay at school much longer, she must come back soon. And the new man wi

d smelt that some one had made nice little fat cakes that afternoon. Both were so intent on their occupation t

with heavy, cloudy eyes and pointed moustaches. His horse was a fiery creature, well caparisoned; a highly-finished saddlebag hung fr

way 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 c

ottle of brandy, and taste joys mental and physical. The world said of him-the all-knowing, omnipotent world, whom no locks can bar, who has the cat-like propensity of seeing best in the dark-the world said, that better than the books he loved the brandy, and better than books or brandy that which it had been better had he loved less. But for the world

itself in that June sunshine; looked at the graves, the gables of the farmhouse showing over the stone walls of th

ce I presume?" he

m only a

h peo

es

like th

y hesi

s like

hy on

oy wa

e very b

dark eyes looked across the brown earth they kindled with a

e-handed and delicate, he might hear the music with shimmering sunshine and solitude play on the finely-strun

tly he

e what yo

irds were almost grotesque in their laboured resemblance to nature, and bor

you learn

ght my

zigzag line

ount

ranger

e meaning,

uttered c

y th

in right of his childlike features and curling hair a child's; and it hurt him

ave you wor

e mo

omething from it. He could fasten the post to his horse in so

ke this for

the five-pound note

I can

more?" asked the strang

ith his thum

t is f

here?" asked

fath

rawing his hat over his eyes, composed himself to sleep. Not being able to do so, after a whil

r showed itself in the clouded eyes-for sweetness will linger on in the voice long

but made no answer. He had a

nd those Boer-uncles with their wives walk about here in the red sand, with the very fleshly legs w

ting for an instant his heav

a curious little tadpole which he held under his glass

pes nothing, fears nothing, feels nothing. I am beyond the pale of humanity; no

he part of the fellow, which brought him close to the stranger's fee

" he muttered; "I will

w he loved him!), and with eager finger the fellow moved upward, explaining over fantastic figures and mountains, to the crowning bi

rving; and there was now and then a show of wh

ced that once he stood on the shores of a large lake. While he stood waiting in the rushes for the coming of the birds, a great shadow fell on him, and in the water he saw a reflection. He looked up to the sky; but the thing was gone. Then a burning desire came over him to see once again that reflection in

ched, sailing in the everlasting blue. And now it is as though a great fire burnt within my breast. It was

riend

ter, or the shadow of your own head.

ght in the forest and in the woods, by the lakes and among the rushes, bu

him?' said h

mad,'

'he would see that which none of us

forswear his co

unter wal

heartsore and weeping, an old man stood before

ou?' asked

e grown in these valleys; but no man sees me till he has sorrowed much. The eyes must be

e hunte

great wild bird I have seen sailing in the blue? They would

ld man

s once seen her never rests ag

e hunte

e where I ma

e old m

suffered enou

e of Imagination, and wound on it the thread of

ff-balls, and when you trod on them a brown dust flew out. Then he sat by to see what would happen. The first that came into the net was a snow-white bird, with dove's eyes, and he sang a beautiful so

ok them both in hi

of the beautiful

a shrill voice, like one crying in the marketp

he

r; but you are fair

grains were finished. And the hunter gathered all his birds together, an

came about danc

. 'Oh, wonderful man! Oh, delig

w they had been caught; but they danced and sang be

ime she will moult her feathers, a

ept alone, as of old, to weep; the terrible desire had awakened again in his breast. One day,

dom smil

she will not feed; in the net of wishes her feet cannot be held; in the air of these valleys she will not breathe

er cried out

still, to be devoured

e old m

ing with him not one shred that has belonged to them. Alone he must wander down into the Land of Absolute Negation and Denial; he must abide there; he must resist temptation; whe

t! he will hold her in his

shook

her, never hold her.

s no hope?' cr

one white silver feather, dropped from the wing of Truth. And it shall come to pass,' said the old man, raising himself prophetically and pointing with his finger to the sky, 'it shall come to pass, that when en

rose. 'I will

dom deta

ghts upon the confines, he can never put his foot across them. Left-they are left forever. Upon the road which you wou

t upon the mountains, tell m

n have trodden. On these mountains few feet have passed; each man strikes out a path for himself. He

owledge

is hands broke down the bars, and the jagged iron tore

e came to his dark-plumed bird he held it, and looked into its be

t eats no food. I will hide it in my breast; I will take it with

ay on his breast like lead. He could not move with it. He could not l

heart's own!' he crie

d his han

t in Truth's song one note is like

hand, and the bird

; and the empty shuttle he put into his breast, for the thread was made in those valleys, but the

they cried. 'How dared you break

ke; but they wo

ever seen her? Your birds were real: all could hear them sing! Oh

up stones and ston

t the rest gathered up stones and mud and threw at him. At last, when he was bru

he stranger smiled. It was almost worth the trouble of exerting oneself, even on a lazy afterno

light there. With his hands he groped; but each branch as he touched it broke off, and the earth was covered with cinders. At every step his foot sank in, and a fine cloud of imp

night in his

ugh all his limbs. Then, looking up, two merry wisp lights came dancing. He lifted his head to look at them. Nearer, nearer they came. So warm, so bright, they danced like stars of fire. They stood before him at last. From the

nter, 'who alone come to me

an-Nature, and our mother's name is Excess. We are as old as the hill

irst; 'they are soft and warm. Your heart is froz

ur brain is numb, and your limbs are dead now; but they s

and they have never left us, never. All else is a delusion, but we are real, we are real, we are real. Truth is a shadow; the valleys of superstition are

ops melted on his forehead. The bright light shot into his eyes

kness? They are warm, they melt my frozen bloo

him the image of the thing he had lov

to us!' t

buried h

y heart warm; but you cannot give me what I

listen; and when he looked up again they were tw

g, long nigh

t dark land; but some go through it in a few days, some li

eath almost touched the stranger's h

on them, and the tops were lost in the clouds. At the foot many paths ran up. An exultant cry burst from the hunter. He chose the straightest and began to climb; and the rocks and ridges resounded with his song. They had exaggerated; after all, it was not so

oo the path began to grow less and less marked; then it became a mere trace, with a footmark here and there; then it ceased altogether. He sang no more, but struck forth a path for himself, until it reached a mighty wall of rock, smooth and without break, stretching as far as the eye could see. 'I will rear a stair against it; and, once this wall

a wild cry. He bowed himself on to the earth, and when he rose his face was white. In absolute silence he walked on. He was very silent now. In those high regions the rarefied air is hard to breathe by those born in the valleys; every breath he drew hurt him, and the blood oozed out from the tips of his fingers. Before the next wall of rock he began to work. The height of this s

ng no more; he said no more, 'I will do this or that'-he only worked. And at night, when the twiligh

lonely man, and spea

or one moment you would creep down upon me,' he r

saw there was no use in striving; he would never hold Truth, never see her, never find her. So he lay down here, for he was very tired. He went to sleep forever. He pu

nd of night; have I resisted temptation; have I dwelt where the voice of my kind

spair slunk away, for the laugh of a brave

y crept out again

child's? Do you see that the point of your shuttle is gone?-it is cracked already. If you sh

d, 'I know it!'

ggedly, for the fingers were stiff and bent. T

above the rocks. It saw the eternal mountains rise w

ce it broke; and through the gap the dying eyes looked down on the trees and fields of their childhood. From afar seemed borne to him the cry of his own wild birds, and he heard the noise of peopl

e there do not di

together again; and h

will stand, young and fresh. By the steps that I have cut they will climb; by the stairs that I have built they will mount. They will never know the name of the man who made them. At the clumsy work they will la

If Truth had appeared above him in the clouds now he co

said; 'and they shall mount! they shall moun

ling, falling, falling. Softly it fluttered down, and dropped on to the breast o

od of the carving great drops fell. The stranger mus

ed at last. "It is not written there-n

ou may find what you please. Men, thinking to detract, say: 'People read more in this or that work of genius than was ever written in it,' not perceiving that they pay the highest compliment. If we pick up the finger and nail of a real man, we can decipher a whole story-could almost reconstru

over the w

nourishment, reproduction of its kind, withering and vanishing-would have shaped a symbol of all existence. All true facts of nature or the mind are related. Your little carving represents some mental facts as they really are, therefore fifty different true stories might be read from it. What your

ve longed to see

e and drew yet nearer him. In the dog-like manner of his drawing near there was something superbly ridiculous,

y star

go anyowhere; I want you to talk to me. Tel

se to feed on; or to run to the far end of the plain for the fossils that lay there, or to gather the f

r done anyth

olks have been doing whose word I can believe. It is inter

ut soon the words flowed. In the smallest past we find

at before the clearest eyes it falls into co-ordinate pictures. It is not till the I we tell of has ceased to exist that it takes its place among other objective

the end of another, and puffed a

e to tell you if you

in deadly earnest and to laugh. The stranger nodded, while the fellow sought for something more to relate. He would tell all

, "you are hap

Here, with this brown earth and these low hills, while the

ger read

ps from us, and we have not yet planted our feet on the new. We hear the voice from Sinai thundering no more, and the still small voice of reason is not yet heard. We have pr

hen we have dragged down the weeds and creepers that covered the solid wall and have found them to be rotten wood, we imagine the wall itself to be rotten wood too. We find it is solid and standing only when we fall headlong against it.

y eyes looked

wise and noble life have a foundation infinitely deeper than the f

hat whoso takes a love not lawfully his own, gathers a flower with a poison on its petals; that whoso revenges, strikes with a sword that has two edges-one for his adversary, one for himself; that who lives to himself i

t, 'This is the way, walk ye in it!' You are happy to be here, boy! When the suspense fills you with pain you build stone walls and dig earth f

om which nothing but death can free them; which cling closer than his sacerdotal sanctimony to a priest; which feed on the intellect like a worm, sapp

where you are. If you ever pray, let it be only the one old prayer-'Lead us not into temptation.' Live on here

sleeve, and ashamed at his own earnestnes

lready," he said. "We shall have

e returned leading it slowly. The sooner

were a bright French novel and an old brown vol

ch; but it may give you a centre round which to hang your ideas, instead of letting them lie about in a confusion that makes the

book into his breast, and while he saddled the horse the stranger made i

the saddle, tying it with the little blue cotton handkerchief from his neck. The stra

ired, ungloving his right ha

oy re

all meet again some

rew on the glove, and touched his horse, and

had gone half across th

stache. Then he looked to see if the little blue ha

en he sighed wear

ionately a hoof-mark in the sand. Then he called his young birds together, and put his book under his