|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Trooper Peter Halket of Mashonaland by Olive Schreiner: up, you know. My mother never even would kill our ducks; she let them die
of old age, and we had the feathers and the eggs: and she was always
drumming into me;--don't hit a fellow smaller than yourself; don't hit a
fellow weaker than yourself; don't hit a fellow unless he can hit you back
as good again. When you've always had that sort of thing drummed into you,
you can't get rid of it, somehow. Now there was that other nigger they
shot. They say he sat as still as if he was cut out of stone, with his
arms round his legs; and some of the fellows gave him blows about the head
and face before they took him off to shoot him. Now, that's the sort of
thing I can't do. It makes me sick here, somehow." Peter put his hand
rather low down over the pit of his stomach. "I'll shoot as many as you
|
