the story of an african farm-第24部分

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〃You　didn't　hear　me　calling；　I　suppose？〃



Bonaparte　whisked　the　tails　of　his　coat　up　and　down　as　he　looked　at　him。　

He；　Bonaparte　Blenkins；　had　eyes　which　were　very　far…seeing。　　He　looked　at

the　pot。　　It　was　rather　a　small　pot　to　have　taken　three…quarters　of　an　hour

in　the　filling。　　He　looked　at　the　face。　　It　was　flushed。　　And　yet；　Tant

Sannie　kept　no　winehe　had　not　been　drinking；　his　eyes　were　wide　open　and

brighthe　had　not　been　sleeping；　there　was　no　girl　up　therehe　had　not

been　making　love。　　Bonaparte　looked　at　him　sagaciously。　　What　would　account

for　the　marvellous　change　in　the　boy　coming　down　the　ladder　from　the　boy

going　up　the　ladder？　　One　thing　there　was。　　Did　not　Tant　Sannie　keep　in　the

loft　bultongs；　and　nice　smoked　sausages？　　There　must　be　something　nice　to

eat　up　there！　　Aha！　that　was　it！



Bonaparte　was　so　interested　in　carrying　out　this　chain　of　inductive

reasoning　that　he　quite　forgot　to　have　his　boots　blacked。



He　watched　the　boy　shuffle　off　with　the　salt…pot　under　his　arm；　then　he

stood　in　his　doorway　and　raised　his　eyes　to　the　quiet　blue　sky；　and　audibly

propounded　this　riddle　to　himself：



〃What　is　the　connection　between　the　naked　back　of　a　certain　boy　with　a

greatcoat　on　and　a　salt…pot　under　his　arm；　and　the　tip　of　a　horsewhip？　

Answer：　　No　connection　at　present；　but　there　will　be　soon。〃



Bonaparte　was　so　pleased　with　this　sally　of　his　wit　that　he　chuckled　a

little　and　went　to　lie　down　on　his　bed。



There　was　bread…baking　that　afternoon；　and　there　was　a　fire　lighted　in　the

brick　oven　behind　the　house；　and　Tant　Sannie　had　left　the　great　wooden…

elbowed　chair　in　which　she　passed　her　life；　and　waddled　out　to　look　at　it。

Not　far　off　was　Waldo；　who；　having　thrown　a　pail　of　food　into　the　pigsty；

now　leaned　over　the　sod　wall　looking　at　the　pigs。　　Half　of　the　sty　was　dry；

but　the　lower　half　was　a　pool　of　mud；　on　the　edge　of　which　the　mother　sow

lay　with　closed　eyes；　her　ten　little　ones　sucking；　the　father　pig；　knee…

deep　in　the　mud；　stood　running　his　snout　into　a　rotten　pumpkin　and

wriggling　his　curled　tail。



Waldo　wondered　dreamily　as　he　stared　why　they　were　pleasant　to　look　at。　

Taken　singly　they　were　not　beautiful；　taken　together　they　were。　　Was　it　not

because　there　was　a　certain　harmony　about　them？　　The　old　sow　was　suited　to

the　little　pigs；　and　the　little　pigs　to　their　mother；　the　old　boar　to　the

rotten　pumpkin；　and　all　to　the　mud。　　They　suggested　the　thought　of　nothing

that　should　be　added；　of　nothing　that　should　be　taken　away。　　And；　he

wondered　on　vaguely；　was　not　that　the　secret　of　all　beauty；　that　you　who

look　on　　So　he　stood　dreaming；　and　leaned　further　and　further　over　the

sod　wall；　and　looked　at　the　pigs。



All　this　time　Bonaparte　Blenkins　was　sloping　down　from　the　house　in　an

aimless　sort　of　way；　but　he　kept　one　eye　fixed　on　the　pigsty；　and　each

gyration　brought　him　nearer　to　it。　　Waldo　stood　like　a　thing　asleep　when

Bonaparte　came　close　up　to　him。



In　old　days；　when　a　small　boy；　playing　in　an　Irish　street…gutter；　he；

Bonaparte；　had　been　familiarly　known　among　his　comrades　under　the　title　of

Tripping　Ben；　this；　from　the　rare　ease　and　dexterity　with　which；　by　merely

projecting　his　foot；　he　could　precipitate　any　unfortunate　companion　on　to

the　crown　of　his　head。　　Years　had　elapsed；　and　Tripping　Ben　had　become

Bonaparte；　but　the　old　gift　was　in　him　still。　　He　came　close　to　the　pigsty。　

All　the　defunct　memories　of　his　boyhood　returned　on　him　in　a　flood；　as；

with　an　adroit　movement；　he　inserted　his　leg　between　Waldo　and　the　wall　and

sent　him　over　into　the　pigsty。



The　little　pigs　were　startled　at　the　strange　intruder；　and　ran　behind　their

mother；　who　sniffed　at　him。　　Tant　Sannie　smote　her　hands　together　and

laughed；　but　Bonaparte　was　far　from　joining　her。　　Lost　in　reverie；　he　gazed

at　the　distant　horizon。



The　sudden　reversal　of　head　and　feet　had　thrown　out　the　volume　that　Waldo

carried　in　his　breast。　　Bonaparte　picked　it　up　and　began　to　inspect　it；　as

the　boy　climbed　slowly　over　the　wall。　　He　would　have　walked　off　sullenly；

but　he　wanted　his　book；　and　he　waited　until　it　should　be　given　him。



〃Ha！〃　said　Bonaparte；　raising　his　eyes　from　the　leaves　of　the　book　which　he

was　examining；　〃I　hope　your　coat　has　not　been　injured；　it　is　of　an　elegant

cut。　　An　heirloom；　I　presume；　from　your　paternal　grandfather？　　It　looks

nice　now。〃



〃Oh；　Lord！　oh！　Lord！〃　cried　Tant　Sannie；　laughing　and　holding　her　sides；

how　the　child　looksas　though　he　thought　the　mud　would　never　wash　off。　

Oh；　Lord；　I　shall　die！　　You；　Bonaparte；　are　the　funniest　man　I　ever　saw。〃



Bonaparte　Blenkins　was　now　carefully　inspecting　the　volume　he　had　picked

up。　　Among　the　subjects　on　which　the　darkness　of　his　understanding　had　been

enlightened　during　his　youth；　Political　Economy　had　not　been　one。　　He　was

not；　therefore；　very　clear　as　to　what　the　nature　of　the　book　might　be；　and

as　the　name　of　the　writer；　J。S。　Mill；　might；　for　anything　he　knew　to　the

contrary；　have　belonged　to　a　venerable　member　of　the　British　and　Foreign

Bible　Society；　it　by　no　means　threw　light　upon　the　question。　　He　was　not　in

any　way　sure　that　Political　Economy　had　nothing　to　do　with　the　cheapest　way

of　procuring　clothing　for　the　army　and　navy；　which　would　be　certainly　both

a　political　and　economical　subject。



But　Bonaparte　soon　came　to　a　conclusion　as　to　the　nature　of　the　book　and

its　contents；　by　the　application　of　a　simple　rule　now　largely　acted　upon；

but　which；　becoming　universal；　would　save　much　thought　and　valuable　time。　

It　is　of　marvellous　simplicity；　of　infinite　utility；　of　universal

applicability。　　It　may　easily　be　committed　to　memory　and　runs　thus：



Whenever　you　come　into　contact　with　any　book；　person；　or　opinion　of　which

you　absolutely　comprehend　nothing；　declare　that　book；　person　or　opinion　to

be　immoral。　　Bespatter　it；　vituperate　against　it；　strongly　insist　that　any

man　or　woman　harbouring　it　is　a　fool　or　a　knave；　or　both。　　Carefully

abstain　from　studying　it。　　Do　all　that　in　you　lies　to　annihilate　that　book；

person；　or　opinion。



Acting　on　this　rule；　so　wide　in　its　comprehensiveness；　so　beautifully

simple　in　its　working；　Bonaparte　approached　Tant　Sannie　with　the　book　in

his　hand。　　Waldo　came　a　step　nearer；　eyeing　it　like　a　dog　whose　young　has

fallen　into　evil　hands。



〃This　book；〃　said　Bonaparte；　〃is　not　a　fit　and　proper　study　for　a　young　and

immature　mind。〃



Tant　Sannie　did　not　understand　a　word；　and　said：



〃What？〃



〃This　book；〃　said　Bonaparte；　bringing　down　his　finger　with　energy　on　the

cover；　〃this　book　is　sleg；　sleg；　Davel；　Davel！〃



Tant　Sannie　perceived　from　the　gravity　of　his　countenance　that　it　was　no

laughing　matter。　　From　the　words　〃sleg〃　and　〃Davel〃　she　understood　that　the

book　was　evil；　and　had　some　connection　with　the　prince　who　pulls　the　wires

of　evil　over　the　whole　earth。



〃Where　did　you　get　this　book？〃　she　asked；　turning　her　twinkling　little　eyes

on　Waldo。　　〃I　wish　that　my　legs　may　be　as　th