ALLAN QUATERMAIN by H. RIDER HAGGARD

By H. Rider Haggard and Charles H M Kerr

Book Overview

December 23'I have just buried my boy, my poor handsome boy of whom I was so proud, and my heart is broken. It is very hard having only one son to lose him thus, but God's will be done. Who am I that I should complain? The great wheel of Fate rolls on like a Juggernaut, and crushes us all in turn, some soon, some late-it does not matter when, in the end, it crushes us all. We do not prostrate ourselves before it like the poor Indians; we fly hither and thither-we cry for mercy; but it is of no use, the black Fate thunders on and in its season reduces us to powder.'Poor Harry to go so soon! just when his life was opening to him. He was doing so well at the hospital, he had passed his last examination with honours, and I was proud of them, much prouder than he was, I think. And then he must needs go to that smallpox hospital. He wrote to me that he was not afraid of smallpox and wanted to gain the experience; and now the disease has killed him, and I, old and grey and withered, am left to mourn over him, without a chick or child to comfort me. I might have saved him, too-I have money enough for both of us, and much more than enough-King Solomon's Mines provided me with that; but I said, "No, let the boy earn his living, let him labour that he may enjoy rest." But the rest has come to him before the labour. Oh, my boy, my boy!'I am like the man in the Bible who laid up much goods and builded barns-goods for my boy and barns for him to store them in; and now his soul has been required of him, and I am left desolate. I would that it had been my soul and not my boy's!'We buried him this afternoon under the shadow of the grey and ancient tower of the church of this village where my house is. It was a dreary December afternoon, and the sky was heavy with snow, but not much was falling. The coffin was put down by the grave, and a few big flakes lit upon it. They looked very white upon the black cloth! There was a little hitch about getting the coffin down into the grave-the necessary ropes had been forgotten: so we drew back from it, and waited in silence watching the big flakes fall gently one by one like heavenly benedictions, and melt in tears on Harry's pall. But that was not all. A robin redbreast came as bold as could be and lit upon the coffin and began to sing. And then I am afraid that I broke down, and so did Sir Henry Curtis, strong man though he is; and as for Captain Good, I saw him turn away too; even in my own distress I could not help noticing it.'The above, signed 'Allan Quatermain', is an extract from my diary written two years and more ago. I copy it down here because it seems to me that it is the fittest beginning to the history that I am about to write, if it please God to spare me to finish it. If not, well it does not matter. That extract was penned seven thousand miles or so from the spot where I now lie painfully and slowly writing this, with a pretty girl standing by my side fanning the flies from my august countenance. Harry is there and I am here, and yet somehow I cannot help feeling that I am not far off Harry.When I was in England I used to live in a very fine house-at least I call it a fine house, speaking comparatively, and judging from the standard of the houses I have been accustomed to all my life in Africa-not five hundred yards from the old church where Harry is asleep, and thither I went after the funeral and ate some food; for it is no good starving even if one has just buried all one's earthly hopes. But I could not eat much, and soon I took to walking, or rather limping-being permanently lame from the bite of a lion-up and down, up and down the oak-panelled vestibule; for there is a vestibule in my house in England. On all the four walls of this vestibule were placed pairs of horns-about a hundred pairs altogether, all of which I had shot myself.

• Format: Paperback
• Language: English
• ISBN: 1545192871
• ISBN13: 9781545192870
• Release Date: April 2017
• Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
• Length: 154 Pages
• Weight: 0.66 lbs.
• Dimensions: 0.3" x 6.1"

Customer Reviews

Excellent

Very speedy delivery and in excellent condition. I'm very happy with this purchase and the seller.

The Near Zenith of High Adventure

The book, Allan Quartermain appears to be the last of a series of books penned by H. Rider Haggard about the exploits of a fictitious Englishman and African big-game hunter. In it, the leading man, Allan, is a bit more philosophical about life and his place on earth, and we follow his last great adventure in deepest, darkest Africa before he passes on, fully satisfied with his life and accomplishments, to the final Beyond. Once again, Quartermain teams up with his good friends, Captain Good and Sir Henry Curtis, this time around to find a fabled lost race of people(whom Quartermain later suspects as being a lost tribe of Persians when he finally finds them). Once in Africa, the intrepid English trio re-unite with the Mighty Umslopogaas, a bloodthirsty Zulu warrior and loyal friend and servant who also happens to have a heart of gold. Then, the Fabulous Four sally forth, and take on in short order a tribe of savage Masai, save a proper English damsel (of course very much in distress), undertake a perilous journey to an uncharted region of Africa, and inadvertently begin (and bloodily end) a civil war amongst the lost tribe they have sought. Without a doubt, the best character in this book is Mighty Umslopogaas and his trusty axe, Inkosi-kaas. Quartermain also puts in a good showing, especially as the old sage entangled in palace intrigues charged with amorous feelings and their attendant, homicidal jealousies. The first third of the book reads quickly, and is packed with action, while the second third gets bogged down in descriptive detail of the lost tribe- its people, customs and the land it occupies. The final third works the reader up to a rousing finish, and we see Mighty Umslopogaas bearing deadly Inkosi-kaas with skill and valor. England nor America could never hope to produce and officer and a gentleman as fine a soldier (and a man) as The Mighty Umslopogaas, who singlehandedly saves the Queen of the Lost Tribe and her kingdom to boot. In this final outing, Quartermain's age and dering-do finally catch up with him, but he has just enough mettle left in him to save his old friend Captain Good from the greedy paws of the Grim Reaper. And yet, though he lived loudly, Quatermain manages to exit the Stage of Life quietly with his friends Good and Curtis at his side, and by story's end, Good resurrects his sea legs among the Lost Tribe and Sir Henry manages to snare the Queen's heart and hand in marriage. All in all, the reader doesn't feel bad about the ending, and comes away thinking that all worked out as it should have. High adventure never gets better than this. Haggard wrote at a time when expansionism and imperialism were all the rage, and even then, his book were viewed as sensationalist. Now we know better, or at least we should, but back then, Haggard still managed to give Africa and her people, via The Mighty Umslopogaas, a small slice of dignity that many during his time were reticent to the point of belligerence to gi

Adventure classic

..."Allan Quatermain" is another adventure story of the character of the same name. After the King Solomon's mines, Quatermain is back in England, where his son dies, and he's eager for new adventures. With his two best friends, Good and Curtis, they depart again to the heart of Africa, where they expect to discover a nation of white people undiscovered until now. This story, while a classic Haggard tale, has not all the good elements "King Solomon's mines" had. There is fighting, there's thrilling, but this book is somewhat slower. This might be because Allan Quatermain, telling the story in his point of view, is older, close to sixty-five years. In fact, there are some really anoying parts, where Quatermain is extra-shy and puritan, almost to the point of being ridiculous. And, as another reviewer wrote, there's no point in writing about a white race, civilized, organized and secret, in the heart of Africa, instead of a more plausible black one. This can only be excused in historical contexts. Back in the late XIX century, Africa was such a type of novelty and unknown that people thought almost everything could happen in there. But, today, if the reader doesn't have an open mind and doesn't know his History, this can be interpreted as pure racism, which is not. Haggard wrote this book in a time where the biggest thing about Africa was Livingstone trying to find where the Nile came from. So this is how this book should be taken. A classic adventure.Grade 7.6/10

A sequel to Quartermain's adventures in King Solomon's Mines

Many of you will have read King Solomon's Mines by Sir Henry Rider Haggard. The majority of you will have found the story as spell-binding as one of the incantations of old Gagool herself! Allan Quartermain is the sequel to this first adventure in darkest Africa and, like the original, throws up a fine selection of genuinely 3-D characters. Quartermain, the great hunter, tells the tale but his English companions, Curtis and Good, and the old Zulu Umslopogas are all beautifully drawn by this master of Victorian ripping yarns. If you have an ounce of romance in your soul, read this book! Please note, the DREADFUL movie bearing the same title has virtually no connection with the book and certainly should not deter anyone from reading the novel.