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Schreiner, Olive, 1855-1920

"The Story of an African Farm, a novel"


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 looks--as 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.


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