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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