the story of an african farm-第11章

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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？'



〃'Five；'　he　said。



〃He　was　afraid　if　he　said　six　and　a　half　she'd　ask　for　some。　　And；　my

friends；　that　was　a　lie。　　The　half　of　a　meiboss　stuck　in　his　throat　and　he

died　and　was　buried。　　And　where　did　the　soul　of　that　little　liar　go　to；　my

friends？　　It　went　to　the　lake　of　fire　and　brimstone。　　This　brings　me　to　the

second　point　of　my　discourse。



〃What　is　a　lake　of　fire　and　brimstone？　　I　will　tell　you；　my　friends；〃　said

Bonaparte　condescendingly。　　〃The　imagination　unaided　cannot　conceive　it：　

but　by　the　help　of　the　Lord　I　will　put　it　before　your　mind's　eye。



〃I　was　travelling　in　Italy　once　on　a　time；　I　came　to　a　city　called　Rome；　a

vast　city；　and　near　it　is　a　mountain　which　spits　forth　fire。　　Its　name　is

Etna。　　Now；　there　was　a　man　in　that　city　of　Rome　who　had　not　the　fear　of

God　before　his　eyes；　and　he　loved　a　woman。　　The　woman　died；　and　he　walked

up　that　mountain　spitting　fire；　and　when　he　got　to　the　top　he　threw　himself

in　at　the　hole　that　is　there。　　The　next　day　I　went　up。　　I　was　not　afraid；

the　Lord　preserves　His　servants。　　And　in　their　hands　shall　they　bear　thee

up；　lest　at　any　time　thou　fall　into　a　volcano。　　It　was　dark　night　when　I

got　there；　but　in　the　fear　of　the　Lord　I　walked　to　the　edge　of　the　yawning

abyss；　and　looked　in。　　That　sightthat　sight；　my　friends；　is　impressed

upon　my　most　indelible　memory。　　I　looked　down　into　the　lurid　depths　upon　an

incandescent　lake；　a　melted　fire；　a　seething　sea；　the　billows　rolled　from

side　to　side；　and　on　their　fiery　crests　tossed　the　white　skeleton　of　the

suicide。　　The　heat　had　burnt　the　flesh　from　off　the　bones；　they　lay　as　a

light　cork　upon　the　melted；　fiery　waves。　　One　skeleton　hand　was　raised

upward；　the　finger　pointing　to　heaven；　the　other；　with　outstretched　finger；

pointing　downward；　as　though　it　would　say；　'I　go　below；　but　you；　Bonaparte；

may　soar　above。'　　I　gazed；　I　stood　entranced。　　At　that　instant　there　was　a

crack　in　the　lurid　lake；　it　swelled；　expanded；　and　the　skeleton　of　the

suicide　disappeared；　to　be　seen　no　more　by　mortal　eye。〃



Here　again　Bonaparte　rested；　and　then　continued：



〃The　lake　of　melted　stone　rose　in　the　crater；　it　swelled　higher　and　higher

at　the　side；　it　streamed　forth　at　the　top。　　I　had　presence　of　mind；　near　me

was　a　rock；　I　stood　upon　it。　　The　fiery　torrent　was　vomited　out　and

streamed　on　either　side　of　me。　　And　through　that　long　and　terrible　night　I

stood　there　alone　upon　that　rock；　the　glowing；　fiery　lava　on　every　handa

monument　of　the　long…suffering　and　tender　providence　of　the　Lord；　who

spared　me　that　I　might　this　day　testify　in　your　ears　of　Him。



〃Now；　my　dear　friends；　let　us　deduce　the　lessons　that　are　to　be　learnt　from

this　narrative。



〃Firstly：　　let　us　never　commit　suicide。　　The　man　is　a　fool；　my　friends；

that　man　is　insane；　my　friends；　who　would　leave　this　earth；　my　friends。　

Here　are　joys　innumerable；　such　as　it　hath　not　entered　into　the　heart　of

man　to　understand；　my　friends。　　Here　are　clothes；　my　friends；　here　are

beds；　my　friends；　here　is　delicious　food；　my　friends。　　Our　precious　bodies

were　given　us　to　love；　to　cherish。　　Oh；　let　us　do　so！　　Oh；　let　us　never

hurt　them；　but　care　for　and　love　them；　my　friends！〃



Every　one　was　impressed；　and　Bonaparte　proceeded：



〃Thirdly；　let　us　not　love　too　much。　　If　that　young　man　had　not　loved　that

young　woman；　he　would　not　have　jumped　into　Mount　Etna。　　The　good　men　of　old

never　did　so。　　Was　Jeremiah　ever　in　love；　or　Ezekiel；　or　Hosea；　or　even　any

of　the　minor　prophets？　　No。　　Then　why　should　we　be？　　Thousands　are　rolling

in　that　lake　at　this　moment　who　would　say；　'It　was　love　that　brought　us

here。'　　Oh；　let　us　think　always　of　our　own　souls　first。



〃'A　charge　to　keep　I　have；

　　　　A　God　to　glorify；

　　A　never…dying　soul　to　save；

　　　　And　fit　it　for　the　sky。'



〃Oh；　beloved　friends；　remember　the　little　boy　and　the　meiboss；　remember　the

young　girl　and　the　young　man；　remember　the　lake；　the　fire；　and　the

brimstone；　remember　the　suicide's　skeleton　on　the　pitchy　billows　of　Mount

Etna；　remember　the　voice　of　warning　that　has　this　day　sounded　in　your　ears；

and　what　I　say　to　you　I　say　to　allwatch！　　May　the　Lord　add　his

blessings！〃



Here　the　Bible　closed　with　a　tremendous　thud。　　Tant　Sannie　loosened　the

white　handkerchief　about　her　neck　and　wiped　her　eyes；　and　the　coloured

girl；　seeing　her　do　so；　sniffled。　　The　did　not　understand　the　discourse；

which　made　it　the　more　affecting。



There　hung　over　it　that　inscrutable　charm　which　hovers　forever　for　the

human　intellect　over　the　incomprehensible　and　shadowy。　　When　the　last　hymn

was　sung　the　German　conducted　the　officiator　to　Tant　Sannie；　who　graciously

extended　her　hand；　and　offered　coffee　and　a　seat　on　the　sofa。　　Leaving　him

there；　the　German　hurried　away　to　see　how　the　little　plum…pudding　he　had

left　at　home　was　advancing；　and　Tant　Sannie　remarked　that　it　was　a　hot　day。　

Bonaparte　gathered　her　meaning　as　she　fanned　herself　with　the　end　of　her

apron。　　He　bowed　low　in　acquiescence。　　A　long　silence　followed。　　Tant

Sannie　spoke　again。　　Bonaparte　gave　her　no　ear；　his　eye　was　fixed　on　a

small　miniature　on　the　opposite　wall；　which　represented　Tant　Sannie　as　she

had　appeared　on　the　day　before　her　confirmation；　fifteen　years　before；

attired　in　green　muslin。　　Suddenly　he　started　to　his　feet；　walked　up　to　the

picture；　and　took　his　stand　before　it。　　Long　and　wistfully　he　gazed　into

its　features；　it　was　easy　to　see　that　he　was　deeply　moved。　　With　a　sudden

movement；　as　though　no　longer　able　to　restrain　himself；　he　seized　the

picture；　loosened　it　from　its　nail；　and　held　it　close　to　his　eyes。　　At

length；　turning　to　the　Boer…woman；　he　said；　in　a　voice　of　deep　emotion：



〃You　will；　I　trust；　dear　madam；　excuse　this　exhibition　of　my　feelings；　but

thisthis　little　picture　recalls　to　me　my　first　and　best　beloved；　my　dear

departed　wife；　who　is　now　a　saint　in　heaven。〃



Tant　Sannie　could　not　understand；　but　the　Hottentot　maid；　who　had　taken　her

seat　on　the　floor　beside　her　mistress；　translated　the　English　into　Dutch　as

far　as　she　was　able。



〃Ah；　my　first；　my　beloved！〃　he　added；　looking　tenderly　down　at　the　picture。　

〃Oh；　the　beloved；　the　beautiful　lineaments！　　My　angel　wife！　　This　is　surely

a　sister　of　yours；　madame？〃　he　added；　fixing　his　eyes　on　Tant　Sannie。



The　Dutchwoman　blushed；　shook　her　head；　and　pointed　to　herself。



Carefully；　intently；　Bonaparte　looked　from　the　picture　in　his　hand　to　Tant

Sannie's　features；　and　from　the　features　back　to　the　picture。　　Then　slowly

a　light　broke　over　his　countenance；　he　looked　up；　it　became　a　smile；　he

looked　back　at　the　miniature；　his　whole　countenance　was　effulgent。



〃Ah；　yes；　I　see　it　now；〃　he　cried；　turning　his　delighted　gaze　on　the　Boer…

woman；　〃eyes；　mouth；　nose；　chin；　the　very　expression！〃　he　cried。　　〃How　is

it　possible　I　did　not　notice　it　before？〃



〃Take　another　cup　of　coffee；〃　said　Tant　Sannie。　　〃Put　some　sugar　in。〃



Bonaparte　hung　the　pic