The story of an African farm, by Olive Schreiner

The story of an African farm, by Olive Schreiner. Ad. Donker. Johannesburg, 1978. ISBN 0949937576 / ISBN 0-949937-57-6

The autobiographical nature of The story of an African farm by Olive Schreiner is not only implicit in the setting and in parts of the novel such as 'Times and Seasons' but also in many of the characters.

Olive Schreiner  

[...] Away, beyond the 'kopje', Waldo his son herded the ewes and lambs, a small and dusty herd, powdered all over from head to foot with red sand, wearing a ragged coat, and shoes of undressed leather, through whose holes the toes looked out. His hat was too large, and had sunk down to his eyes, concealing completely the silky black curls. It was a curious, small figure. His flock gave him little trouble. It was too hot for them to move far; they gathered round every little milk-bush as though they hoped to find shade, and stood there motionless in clumps. He himself crept under a shelving rock that lay at the foot of the 'kopje'; stretched himself on his stomach, and waved his dilapidated little shoes in the air. Soon, from the blue bag where he kept his dinner, he produced a fragment of slate, an arithmetic, and a pencil. Proceeding to put down a sum with solemn and earnest demeanour, he began to add it up aloud: 'Six and two is eight - and four is twelve -and two is fourteen - and four is eighteen.' Here he paused. 'And four is eighteen - and - four - is eighteen.' The last was very much drawled. Slowly the pencil slipped from his fingers and the slate followed it into the sand. For a while he lay motionless, then began muttering to himself, folded his little arms, laid his head down upon them, and might have been asleep but for a muttering sound that from time to time proceeded from him. A curious old ewe came to sniff at him; but it was long before he raised his head. When he did, he looked at the far-off hills with his heavy eyes. 'Ye shall receive - ye shall receive - shall, shall, shall,' he muttered. He sat up then. Slowly the dullness and heaviness melted from his face; it became radiant. Mid-day had come now, and the sun's rays were poured down vertically; the earth throbbed before the eye. The boy stood up quickly, and cleared a small space from the bushes which covered it. Looking carefully, he found twelve small stones of somewhat the same size; kneeling down, he arranged them carefully on the cleared space in a square pile in shape like an altar. Then he walked to the bag where his dinner was kept; in it was a mutton-chop and a large slice of brown bread. The boy took them out and turned the bread over in his hand, deeply considering it. Finally he threw it away and walked to the altar with the meat, and laid it down on the stones. Close by in the red sand he knelt down. Sure, never since the beginning of the world was there so ragged and so small a priest. He took off his great hat and placed it solemnly on the ground, then closed his eyes and folded his hands. He prayed aloud. 'Oh, God, my Father, I have made Thee a sacrifice. I have only twopence, so I cannot buy a lamb. If the lambs were mine I would give Thee one; but now I have only this meat; it is my dinner-meat. [...]

This is an excerpt from the novel: The story of an African farm, by Olive Schreiner.

Title: The story of an African farm
Author: Olive Schreiner
Publisher: Ad. Donker
Johannesburg, 1978
ISBN 0949937576 / ISBN 0-949937-57-6
Original softcover, 13 x 20 cm, 281 pages