Managed to get half a dozen sheets zinc from Superintendent for roofing.

Distributed books to Elders yesterday afternoon.

Felt rather hopeless to-day; so much to do; quite at loss where to begin; inclined just to sit still.

Visited southern corner of camp; Mrs. De Lint poorly; read letter written by husband.

Gave out "briefies" for rice to some tents.

Astounded this evening by doctor, "Well, now, wasn't it fine that I got you the right to grant briefies?" And this is the Donation Store, quite independent of all Government Stores! A gentleman gave Mr. Becker L50 for things; these goods arrived yesterday. Really, doctor takes the cake—with baker and all! Told him a few gentle truths about these goods.

Letters from home; hope those groceries of mine will come along all right; and that order for L20 worth of stuff[54]. May I succeed in getting the sole right of distribution when that arrives.

Champion[55] writes that at present he cannot fulfil order; disappointing.

One does long so for something nice—some extras which here are quite unobtainable[56]. Dry bread gets a bit monotonous after a while, and the "vrekvlijs" becomes nauseous as the days roll by. It thrusts its miserable, lean presence upon us day by day, and now it has become a dreaded nightmare.

"Kerkeraads vergadering" in tent this afternoon; six Elders to discuss Sunday services; the grumblers would not rest until they too had their own big marquee tent on the old site.

Suggested that we have only one morning service in new place and two afternoon services—one for old people at old place and one for young at new place; could take further steps later on for a double morning service if necessary; Elders agreeable; disperse.

Funerals; four; Mr. Van der Merwe died last night; felt sick myself, and made fool of myself at graveside; but really could not contain myself as they lowered the remains of Mr. Van der Merwe into grave; so big and fine a man; in flower of manhood; wife dead, child dead; so gentle and patient in his suffering; felt so drawn to him because of his huge helplessness. Hard lines! Hard lines! Poor Nurse Rouvier! After all these weeks of devoted, patient, hopeful attendance. It does make one feel rather low. Quite unable to make any sort of address at grave; sorry did not ask Mr. Otto.

Went through hospital; Mr. V.d.B. and Mr. Norval both dangerously ill; fear the worst; pneumonia; former hard character, but to-day quite softened; long talk; not yet saved; prayer; great suffering.

Read Psalm 27 to latter and prayed; very thankful.

Girlie Van der Berg in new ward very low; so weak. May God in His tender mercy hear our prayer and restore her!

Lenie Steyn; hysterical; delirious all day; last night great consternation; got her into hospital this morning.

Girl opposite her dying; mother's only child.

In men's ward little boy (14) died too.

Splendid meeting this evening; packed within and without(!).

Service of song; crowd half an hour before time; singing can be heard all through camp. May many a sad and weary heart have found in our singing a balm for the aching, longing heart.

Now for bed—glorious bed!

* * * * *

Wednesday, September 25.—Deathbed; sorrowful topic to write upon, and yet why shirk it? Let me attempt what I have never before done—a description of a deathbed. It is but human to hasten over the tragic scenes of life, but this evening I want to tarry.

Something prompted me to make early visit to the hospital, so went before breakfast. In first ward went straight to little Mita Duvenhagen's bed, and her I found very bad—struggling hard to breathe; so young and yet so bitter a suffering!

From there called by Mrs. Van den Berg to new ward, to come quickly, as Lenie was dying. I went, and when I entered saw that God was going to take her away. Let me not attempt to describe her angelic little face of marble white, her beautifully chiselled nose, and her sweet little mouth! Silently we knelt around her bedside—mother, nurse, and I. Of her beautiful blue eyes I have said nothing, for they were closed—the lids gently drawn, and the lashes trying hard to kiss the soft smooth cheeks. "O God, come and help us! O Saviour, come and take Thy place beside her bed—hold her hand—take her in Thy tender arms and press her to Thy bosom! Bear her, Saviour, where Thou wilt, for with Thee she is safe. Comfort our hearts and give us to bend our heads in humble resignation—Thy will be done. Amen!"

"Lenie, Lenie, Lenie, mij kind, jou mammie is hier bij jou, en Jezus ook is hier om jou hand te hou—moenie bang wees nie, mij kind" ("My child, your mother is here, near you, and Jesus too is here to hold your hand—don't be afraid, child"). Under her weary eyelids she looked at us, and a large tear gathered in her left eye. It glistened like a diamond for a moment, and then became the possession of the sorrow-stricken mother. Then we were silent and watched. Slowly and gently the lids opened—now again we could look into those clear blue orbs. Wider—wider—and still wider they grow—uplifted, right away beyond the three forms of clay before her. See how the pupils dilate—they seem to swamp the blue! And so for a few short moments they remain. It was a gaze right beyond us to—- what! Will it be old-fashioned to suggest "Angels," perhaps! Until I grow wiser I shall hold fast to Angels. O, the mystery of the Unknown!

And slowly, gently those lids sink once more to rest—to rest indeed—for her spirit has fled. Peace, perfect peace!

How passing strange, how majestic in its simplicity, how weird in its tragic stillness—the passing of a Soul—the disunion of Body and Spirit! Is this Death? Then may I never fear its shadow!

Sunset and Evening Star!

* * * * *

Thursday, September 26.—Another day gone. What a day of sorrow and tribulation!

Slept like a log.

Took round through camp late last night; heard distressing groans in certain tent; made gentle enquiries; heard this remark after leaving, "Nee, dit is een van die nach police wat hier rond loop" ("No, it is one of the night police wandering about").

Foundations of house laid[57]; yesterday got use Scotch cart and brought over some 1,000 bricks and stones for foundation; good beginning to-day; now things will go swimmingly if weather remains fine.

Unbearably hot to-day; tent untenable; thankful house in course of erection.

Old story again; supply boards for coffins stopped, and now there is the pitiful cry of those who seek wood to make coffins for departed dear ones.

Yesterday old Mr. Duvenhagen came in distress to me; begged from Superintendent, and got him two little boxes[58].

This morning had to tramp round to get hold of few boxes, for I promised Lenie's mother I would provide wood. One does make very rash promises sometimes—but anything to comfort stricken heart of lonesome mother.

That Mrs. Van der Berg has now lost her three children; her husband sits in Bloemfontein Refugee Camp. This to me so inexplicable, so unreasonable, so cruel. Why cannot husband and wife be allowed to go in same camp?

Well, I (next to) stole two nice planks in store tent, and what with empty condensed milk box and my box which I used as chair, able to give quite small fortune in wood for Lenie's coffin.

Buried her and Mita Duvenhagen (both 14) this afternoon; also two small children; "Laat de kinderen tot mij komen en verhindert ze niet want derzulken is het Koninkrijk Gods" (Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not, for such is the Kingdom of Heaven).

Mita's grave away other end of cemetery (next her brother's), and so I went and spoke few words at her grave too; sang "Voor eeuwig met den Heere" (For ever with the Lord).

Just before funerals went to see Lena Steyn; very low; "Zien, minheer, nou, hoe waar dit was wat zij geze het" (Do you see now, sir, how true her words were?). She always persisted in saying that she was going to die; shall write more of her on another occasion. We prayed at bedside and committed her into God's keeping, Psalm 23; but she was unconscious, I think, although her eyes wandered from mother to me.

The procession had started already when I had still to hear wail of old man of 76, "Ach, minheer, waar zal ik tog planke krij; mij vrouw is dood, en ik kan nerens kiste krij nie" (O, sir, where can I get boards; my wife is dead, and I can't get wood anywhere?).

Last night carried out some papers in my box I use as chair and burnt them outside. Soon man stood next to me, "Minheer, zal ik dan nie daardie kisje kan krij nie? Onze ou baby is dood, en ik kan nerens vir haar een stukkie hout krij nie" (Sir, won't I be able to have that little box? Our little baby is dead, and I can't get a scrap of wood anywhere).

Early this afternoon another man came to me in great distress; also no wood for coffin. It does seem so bitterly hard.

Visiting whole morning, mostly down New Camp way.

There is one man always at my back; times a day; came with most wonderful request two days ago; wants me to get him a—guess? Baby! Wife's died last week, and he is now loafing another.

This afternoon two prayer meetings; men and women; took men's down in old church (big tent there now), "Heere zijt mij genadig" (Lord, be merciful to me). The women's, I hear, was packed. I had over 100 men; very good, seeing so few men here; nine prayers.

This evening children's service again; beautiful moon; glorious singing; "Ik ga heen om u plaats te bereiden" (I go to prepare a place for you); told about Lenie's deathbed; she is now in the mansion prepared for her.

Went straight thence to see Lena Steyn; saw women standing in front of tent; heard sobs, and knew the worst. Poor, poor Mrs. Steyn! "Ach, Minheer, ik het daarom nie gedenk nie dat dit oor die helfte zou gaan nie" (O, sir, I really never thought that it would go beyond the half); had six children; four gone now; husband Ceylon, and she is the dearest little mother in camp almost.

Knelt and prayed, and then mother said, "Kom, laat ons nog eenmal ver haar gaan zien" (Come, let us go and see her once more); so went to see Lena once more in morgue tent.

Rest after weariness; calm after storm; light after darkness; day after dawn.

She passed away while the children were singing Gez. 11. While I spoke to her (Mrs. Steyn) at tent she was laughing and sobbing alternately; and then the thought flashed through her that there was no wood for coffin, so I immediately took whole thing into my hands and assured her I would provide and see that Lena gets coffin.

Another rash promise! The Lord only knows where the wood is to come from! Late this evening, when I took her some cocoa, Mrs. Steyn told me that Lena had said that I would provide coffin. So guess it will come out well in end. The presentiments this child had of her death and other things simply marvellous. Am going to write at greater length about her when I see mother again.

And so these three girlies have gone to Jesus. Now, what has become of all our prayers and supplications?

* * * * *

Friday, September 27.—Longish day.

Great question; where to get material for coffin for Lena? Remembered that I saw that the school was supplied with bookcase, and that the box in store tent (full of matches for distribution) could now be otherwise used; removed all matches[59], and lo and behold! grand big box empty and ready for carpenter; got matches distributed, each tent got two boxes; Roos set to work, and with two more milk cases (loafed at hospital), he was able to make quite respectable coffin. (A decent and respectable coffin here made of scrap wood and small boxes fitted together, and whole coated with preparation of boot blacking and oil. A swell, extra fine coffin has a covering of cheap black material, 1s. 6d. yard.)

Several came again to-day seeking wood; some even wanted the galvanized iron for my roof.

At graves this afternoon saw that they had made a shelf in a grave to hold body and prevent ground falling directly upon it; made me think of catacombs Rome.

Seven buried this afternoon; stood right in front of Lena's grave.

It was Mr. Becker's turn, but he was hindered from coming; rather glad, for wanted to be there myself to-day; "En palmtakken waren in hunne handen" (And palms were in their hands).

Mrs. Steyn found the lost kinderharp (hymn book) I had given Lena few days ago; found under her pillow in morgue tent this afternoon. When I gave it to her she said, "Maar, minheer, moet tog nie vergeet om mij naam in te schrijve" (Sir, you must be sure to write my name in it). So I must remember to do it still. Poor Mrs. Steyn, how resignedly she bears her cross! Sang "Voor eeuwig met den Heere" at grave.

Visits to-day on other side—269, 268, 487, 379, 178, 171, 262.

Called at 329, and found it was same tent where I heard such groans last night; imbecile woman, 53 years; very sick; great suffering; spoke to her, and she actually called me by my name; glad I found tent again; old father of 86; always so keen and hearty at wood-chopping.

Weeping woman came to me after funeral; "Minheer, zal minheer nie zoo goed wees nie om vir Mrs. Engelbrecht in die hospitaal te vertel dat haar kindje dood is, zij word nou begrave?" (Sir, will you be good enough to tell Mrs. Engelbrecht in the hospital that her child has died; she is to be buried now). So another painful task is in store for me.

Received short note from Assistant Superintendent requesting me to discontinue briefies for foodstuffs, "I have now three medical officers who are well able to attend to the sick and needy." And this man (Superintendent) himself requested and authorised me to issue such notes but four days ago. Comment on whole matter superfluous. O for a little more logic and consistency with some people! However, I suppose I can interpret these things in my own way.

Held woman's prayer meeting this afternoon; good audience; "Viel aan de voeten van Jezus en vertelde Him al de waarheid" (Fell at the feet, of Jesus and told Him all the truth); six prayers; but O! such long and wearying ones; thought men could drag it out, but let me be silent about the women.

House 3 feet high; doorway up; grandish.

* * * * *

Sunday, September 29.—No diary yesterday; too tired and listless; eager for bed.

What a grand thing to rest after work! Sleep, glorious, blessed sleep; feel like writing an ode to extol its virtues. Yesterday scorcher of a day.

Spent morning in old quarter; work most wearisome.

So many who call me in and pour out all their sorrows, and it is so terribly hard always to be ready and willing to listen and sympathise. One actually grows "dof" (dull) from sheer weakness. O the monotony of sorrows and troubles!

Called in to see woman who had just received news that husband had fallen in battle. Such sorrow is too great to realise; one can only stand afar off to behold—and weep.

At 3 p.m. suddenly told that no one to take women's prayer meeting; so had hurriedly to go without so much as minute's preparation; quite large crowd.

Mr. Becker played me trick; he took funerals; four I believe, so I had time to make short visit hospital.

Doctor stopped me two days ago, and said the man B—— in hospital wished to be left alone; so left him alone; but this evening he has gone to meet his God. Could never make him out. Was it ignorance or obstinacy or indifference? May God have mercy on his soul.

Old Mr. Norval also died this afternoon; thank God; too terrible to see him struggling with Death; unconscious the last three days; glad read Psalm and prayed with him a few days ago.

And so our fellow-men around us are carried off by Death; and now they are solving the great mystery of the Hereafter. Stupendous thought!

These same men, women and children with whom I prayed, to whom I spoke about eternal things—they know now what we are burning to know. Is there Life after Death? Is there a Heaven? Is there a Hell? What do the departed do just now? Is there perhaps a purgatory where souls are purified? Is there a Throne above, around which a crowd that cannot be numbered stand clothed in long white robes? What about the palm branches? And a thousand more questions.

"The just shall live by his FAITH."

Last night children's service in lower church; great crowd; "En tot zich zelven gekomen zijnde" (And when he came to himself).

This evening similar service in upper church; very bright and hearty; Miss Dussel sang hymn and solo part of "Mannen breeders" (Hold the Fort); nice change in programme; accompanied her on autoharp.

This morning went over to village and exchanged pulpits with Mr. Becker; felt quite lost in big, empty church.

Old sermon had to "bite off spit"[60]; goodness knows where I would have found time to prepare one.

Had nice chat with Macdonald's father.

Grand dinner; roast mutton and actually a dish full of gravy! Could scarce believe my eyes; real gravy; how glorious; and rice too. Think of it! Let me be silent about the dish of stewed peaches—I might fill pages—a dish fit for the gods. Wonder what the look and smell of a vegetable is? Have just faint recollection of such names as potatoes, onions, beans, cauliflower, pumpkin, but I get a bit blurred when try to discriminate; long absence has stunted my memory. Believe there is a vegetable called beetroot too, and wonder if the name cabbage is correct. By the way, what do we call that stuff one sometimes puts on bread for breakfast and tea? I believe, too, having heard and partaken of a preparation called jam in days gone by. And what, now what, do they always put in tea and coffee in other places? Fancy it has whitish colour; have an idea it can be drunk pure too.

Authority (Assistant Superintendent): "En wanneer eet julle Boere dan breakfast?" (And when do you Boers eat your breakfast?)

"O, ik het laatste in Brandfort breakfast ge'eet; hier het ik schars genoeg vir dinner" (O, I had breakfast last at Brandfort; here I get scarce enough for dinner).

Had nice nap on sofa after dinner; what a noble thing a house is; how spacious, how high, how cool! How unnecessarily large people do build houses nowadays.

At 2.45 had to race back for afternoon service; young people; great crowd (700 about); prepared sermon during the fifteen minutes' walk. Record service; forty-five minutes.

Went through two wards hospital.

Mrs. De Wet dying; poor old mother! But she said all along she wouldn't get well again; several very sick there.

Now for glorious bed.

P.S.—Not yet; there came wail from hospital; so I went up; as I surmised, Mrs. De Wet "gone home"; and shall I soon forget that little band of women in black returning to their tents while the pale sad moon cast its shadows of sympathy!

"Ach, minheer, het ik nie gezondigd dat ik nie wou zien en geloof dat zij gaat sterve?" (O, sir, did I not sin, in that I would not see and believe that she would die?)

"Neen. Dank God liever voor die Liefde in u die u verblind heeft. Dank God dat gij hebt liefgehad" (No. Thank God rather for the Love within which blinded your eyes. Thank God that you have loved).

Another solving the great problem of the Unknown!

* * * * *

Monday, September 30.—End of month; cannot help remembering that this was our finest, loveliest month in the Boland (Western Province); and here we have been grovelling in the dust.

Another frightful day of wind and dust; two evils; open the tent to ventilate, and anon everything covered with layer fine dust; close tent and one gets suffocated. And one's clothes! Let me rather change topic.

After burdens of yesterday felt more inclined for good quiet rest, but tent too unbearably hot; so decided to do the hospital; there knew I would find things cool.

First to men's ward; then through three women's wards, and finally to convalescent ward; nice and cool in wards, but grew horribly tired. What with a word of cheer all round and a straight talk to boot, and after a Psalm, short address, and finally (and hardest of all) a prayer—great weariness becomes master, and one feels regularly "pap."

Hospital grown so large lately; takes few hours to "do" it thoroughly.

Best of all, one has assurance and conviction such visits are indeed source of comfort and blessing; mindful now of that sick mother in No. 3; so despondent, and how she thanked me after visit; "Ik voel nou weer blij in mij hart" (I feel glad at heart again). Psalm 115; "Vertrouw op den Heere; Hij is mijn hulp en mijn schild" (Trust in the Lord; He is our help and our shield); "De Heere is onzer gedachtig geweest" (The Lord has been mindful of us); beautiful.

To my utter surprise found Mrs. Fourie in hospital; ailing lately; sure this is much best for her. (The Van As's and Mr. and Mrs. F. form one family circle here.)

Anyhow, this afternoon simply "dead off"; lay on bed till 3 p.m.; and yet one always feels uncomfortable to be idle one hour; it feels like neglect of duty. What one longs for is possibility to have one day or afternoon off regularly; something to look forward to; some time when one can sit still.

Funerals four (Mr. N., Mr. B., Mrs. De W., and girlie); "Dood, waar is uw prikkel?" (Death, where is thy sting?).

Felt unhappy and uneasy all through address, for B. had requested me to leave him alone. Well, anyway my address was directly for the living and not about the dead.

Girl at door this afternoon; "Minheer, het min nie vir mij een Wonderboek?" (Sir, havn't you got a Wonderbook for me?) "Hoe'n soort boek?" (What kind of book?) "Een Wonderboek" (A Wonderbook). "Een Wonderboek!" (head scratchings) "Nee, dit het ik tog glad nie. Maar hoe'n soort boek is dit?" (A Wonderbook! No, I havn't that at all; but what kind of book is it?) "Minheer, daar is tekste in om te leer" (Sir, there are verses in it to learn). "Maar is dit dan nie een Bijbel wat jij wil he?" (But isn't it a Bible you want?) "Ja, minheer, dit is een Bijbel wat ik wil he" (Yes, sir, it is a Bible). New name for Bible—Wonderboek. Not bad!

After tea called to visit very sick old man; long talk; no assurance of forgiveness of sins. Spoke earnestly on Reconciliation with God as first step; am afraid old man disappointed in me; fear he wanted me to recite beautiful Psalms and so forth.

Now for line re house; walls nearly done; two windows; to-morrow roof; edifice stands "met 'n oprechte boog' '(with great show); talk of day; Pastorie.

Just returned from hospital; fear Mrs. Engelbrecht won't last through night.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 27: Condensed milk.]

[Footnote 28: I had in my innocence written to Mr. Robertson to enlist his sympathy on behalf of some people who wished to be removed to other Camps where their families were. In this letter I casually mentioned the meat affair. In the second letter, to my mother (who was collecting to send me a fresh small supply of invalid food), I stated that she was on no account to send such things unless it could be guaranteed that I should have the sole right to distribute. I adopted this precaution because I found that the authorities reserved for themselves the right of distributing all goods (foodstuffs) sent by private Relief Committees, doing with such as they chose. Needless to say, both letters were destroyed.]

[Footnote 29: This can be altogether misconstrued. The "reasonable" was only in comparison with the stormy interview of the day before, when the Superintendent attacked me most fiercely. When I began the second interview by saying I wished to resign, he changed front altogether. It had been purely a game of bluff on his part.

It would perhaps be well to state here my attitude towards the authorities in Camp.

It did not take me very many days to see exactly how things stood, and I determined to have absolutely nothing to do with these men: to ask no favours, and to be under no obligation to them for anything. Of course, there came days when I was forced, under stress of circumstances, to eat these resolutions.]

[Footnote 30: Martie Snyman.]

[Footnote 31: My great zeal in this matter led me to be rather severe and inconsistent; just the same as a teacher who will stand no excuses from his pupils.]

[Footnote 32: Betty Lotz.]

[Footnote 33: This child of four years gnashed all her teeth to pieces before she died. She obstinately refused all nourishment, and told her mother she did not want to live longer. She was indeed a marvel. I gave the mother beef tea, which was all this child lived on for two weeks. The mother used deceitfully (!) to give it beef tea when it called for water.]

[Footnote 34: On the ground.]

[Footnote 35: Aunt; she was really the grandmother, though. Reference is made later to this same case.]

[Footnote 36: For cocoa.]

[Footnote 37: These ladies never approached me, and yet they might have known that I would naturally know more about the state of the Camp than anyone else. The Superintendent led them about—where he chose, I suppose. They were regarded with universal contempt by the people. Their report I have not yet seen, but I know this: that the Superintendent was not immediately dismissed as he should have been. (This was only done in December.) Perhaps the subsequent extension of the hospital and removal to a better site were due to these ladies' suggestions. I remember, though, that we had quite decent meat (beef) during the few days that they visited the camp.]

[Footnote 38: I had brought with me six tins syrup, a few tins jam, 1 lb. of tea, and a little oatmeal.]

[Footnote 39: The Rev. J. Steytler, who had also gone to labour in a camp. He was sent away for political reasons.]

[Footnote 40: This was my daily dilemma: Speak out and protest, and be removed or imprisoned—hold silence and [Transcriber's note: illegible word] the coward, and remain in the work. And I chose the latter.]

[Footnote 41: The rule was that a card, with the number of any tent where medical attendance was desired, should be pinned to the Chemist's Tent before a certain hour in the morning. Many chose to have no attendance, so great was their fear and dread for two of the doctors. Many, too, in spite of their cards, were never visited.]

[Footnote 42: Dutch idiom, literally translated, "pull through."]

[Footnote 43: This calamity, fortunately, only cast its shadow—it never fell. The Rev. Mr. Becker used to come over every afternoon, and continued this labour of love until the end of November, when he was prohibited from visiting the camp any more. How faithful he was! How well I remember the little figure in black flitting hither and thither among the tents. We seldom met in camp, but many a time I smuggled into a tent where I had seen him enter, just to learn from him to pray.]

[Footnote 44: Mr. Otto, the Schoolmaster of Dewetsdorp, a God-fearing man, with a large heart and a great soul—a blessing to many.]

[Footnote 45: The last day for the Boers to lay down arms, according to Kitchener's great proclamation.]

[Footnote 46: Whereon I used to hang out my bedding.]

[Footnote 47: Never was there crueller irony of fate than in this doctor's case. He was altogether unpopular with the authorities, and was at last dismissed for incompetence. When the news of his dismissal became known, a petition was drawn up in his lines, praying that he might remain. This was granted. The day I left hospital he was carried in, stricken with enteric—and he died.]

[Footnote 48: Biltong is dried beef. These people were new arrivals. Mr. Van As and I often remarked to each other that one could readily distinguish the new arrivals from the rest—the former always appearing ruddy and in good health.]

[Footnote 49: Baby Van As.]

[Footnote 50: Which I practically stole.]

[Footnote 51: Members of the Afgescheidene Kerk (Doppers) sing only Psalms, never Hymns.]

[Footnote 52: This was Mrs. Van der Berg—Lenie's mother.]

[Footnote 53: Lenie van der Berg.]

[Footnote 54: My brother packed a box of groceries for me, and my mother bought a fresh supply of invalid food.]

[Footnote 55: Merchant at Bloemfontein, to whom I had written for groceries.]

[Footnote 56: The two shops in Camp contained precious little, and no foodstuffs.]

[Footnote 57: Mr. Van As and Mr. Fourie were the contractors.]

[Footnote 58: How well I remember this incident; how we hopefully approached the Superintendent's tent; how he gave two little boxes; and how he said, "That's the way you spoil them," as I myself unpacked the bottle straw for the old man. (The bottle straw had to be saved for his horse's bedding.)]

[Footnote 59: I got permission first.]

[Footnote 60: Literally from Dutch "spit afbijten"—bear the brunt.]



CHAP. III.

Tuesday, October 1.—Village whole morning; barber (at last); came back wiser and sadder man; can safely stow away comb and brush for a month; two packets of candles by piece of luck. Grand dinner; roast mutton, rice, mealies, and canned quinces. May I never forget that dish of gravy!

Found goods from Champion had arrived; life again; pickles, jam, "domel simmel" (golden syrup), cheese, and few pounds butter.

Supper sumptuous; good spirits.

Went through hospital wards.

Young Joubert (20) dying; visited him twice; quite ready; waiting to be taken; found mother at bedside.

Old Mr. Plessis pleurisy; great agony; restless; fretful; fearful; fear the worst; wonder if prepared to die?

Straight to convalescent tent; reproaches; "Ach, minheer, het min dan ver ons vergeet?" (O, sir, have you then forgotten us?); Psalm 103.

Mrs. V.d.W. very, very bad; greatly comforted; beseeched me to come again.

In old ward also; some very sick; Mrs. Griesel, Mrs. De W., Mrs. Steyn, Engelbrecht—all very low.

Feel more and more to neglect hospital would be criminal.

Then still two other women's wards, where had to read and pray and speak word all round; and finally the children's ward; girlie very bad.

After rounds (seven wards) felt like king; happy; weary, yet withal happy.

And our camp? Total neglect. But will I ever here roll me snugly in my blankets with the satisfaction that all the sick and suffering have been visited?

There have died up to September in our camp over 500. Appalling!

Only one buried this afternoon (Mr. Becker); died in hospital.

* * * * *

Thursday, October 3.—No diary yesterday; listless to-day also; hot; oppressive days; one just longs for day to end. Towards evening (sunset) usually nice and cool, and wind goes down.

What shall I write about? Diary becoming monotonous; too great a sameness. Hospitals; visits; sick; dying; funerals; morose topic; oppressive.

Boer khaki in camp to-day. Result of visit, about a dozen have joined forces of the English. Wonder if a worm wouldn't have more self-respect! Such characters make themselves despicable and contemptible in eyes of the English themselves. To us it brings deep-down humiliation. Can a man sink so low? Enough.

Two night ago some women and children cleared off—"for," said they, "lest we starve here."

Can a man (let alone a woman—breathe not of a child) remain healthy and strong on bread, meat (miserable half-pound), coffee, and condensed milk? And so, when a sickness comes there is nothing to fall back upon—no resistance. And with a wasted constitution who can battle against fever, pneumonia, and other things?

And for those that grimly struggle through, there is nothing wherewith to nourish and strengthen; no real milk; no eggs; wine; no delicacies such as convalescents should be tempted with. About as saddening sight as one can dream of is a peep into the children's ward—poor wasted, withered little innocents!

Mr. Otto buried eight this afternoon.

* * * * *

Friday, October 4.—Let me have a clean blank page for to-night in honour of my new home! Here I sit in glorious solitude, actually in a room! Four walls, four naked walls, but walls withal—stare down upon me with their muddy countenances, and I have an idea that they smile upon me in affection—four muddy brown smiles!

And so my ideal has been realised; and I am proud possessor of a house. Really word "house"[61] seems too inadequate, too insignificant wherewith to name it.

(Later)—Short joy; rudely awakened to sorrows of life; mother just gone by weeping bitterly; went out and took her home to her tent; daughter dying in hospital; Ferreira (admitted yesterday, fever). This morning still conscious when I spoke to her, and when we read and prayed together. And now?

Have just returned hospital; father there; girl evidently dying; fever 105; quite unconscious; strong, strapping girl of nineteen; knelt by bed and prayed; nothing impossible with God; while there is life there is hope.

Will postpone description of house till another occasion; under this cloud one's ink gets cloggy and one's pen listless.

Spent morning in hospital, and after—little visiting.

Funerals, five children; "Laat de kinderen" (Suffer the little children). Mother fainted at grave; great consternation.

Large laager troops close by.

* * * * *

Sunday, October 6.—No diary yesterday; spent morning at river[62]; hour's walk; small party, seven; persuaded Mr. Fourie to join; wife betterish.

Forgot for the while there was such a thing as a camp, and in the beauties, rugged and rude, of Nature able to enjoy life once more and banish thoughts of sickness, hospitals, deaths, funerals, etc. The grand old river!

Returned early with Mr. F. and did few hours' visiting.

To-day most busy and tiring day, as all Sundays are.

Service at ten and again at three.

Funerals at 5 p.m., four; after, prayer meeting.

Luckily (!) weather threatening, so announced there would be no meeting to-night; thankful in my soul.

And now the gentle drops making music on my roof; really it is too grand; one feels like living again to be in room where you can stand upright all over.

Miss Ferreira died last night; buried this afternoon; "Zalig zijn de dooden die in den Heere sterven" (Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord); large crowd at cemetery.

But to think that so young and so strong a person should so suddenly be called away; "Levende gaan zij de eeuwigheid binnen" (literally, Living they enter eternity).

Miss Van Tonder very, very low in hospital; cannot bear thought of her perhaps dying; it will be too, too sad; so young, so good, so patient. God only knows!

Yesterday eight buried; mostly children.

Let me rather fill pipe; get into bed, and listen to soothing rain without.

* * * * *

Tuesday, October 8.—Getting lazy with diary; effects of comforts of house, no doubt. Just copied Dr. M.'s list of patients; total 150; mostly in new camp; wonder how on earth am to find time to visit these tents; and this is but one of the three doctors' lists! So one's time is just made up with visits to sick, and for other work there is no opportunity. One gets "daarom" (literally, therefore) a bit hopeless with the amount of work. O for a few more to help!

Hospital runs away with whole morning; and positively cannot neglect that work, and then come the funerals every other day.

Buried four children this afternoon; one girlie I often visited; "En zij brachten kinderkens tot Jezus" (And they brought children to Jesus).

One cannot help smiling sometimes in midst of death; the comic element will crop up everywhere and the sublime verges on the ridiculous. Old Mrs. Griesel, delirious, "Ach, minheer, en moet ik nou sterve en dit zonder eers een glas karren melk to kry?" (O, sir, and must I die now, and that without one glass of buttermilk?); wonder, wonder how many will get well in that fatal ward. Give Miss Van Tonder up, also Mrs. Steyn and Mrs. Griesel—but!

Four children struggling with Death just now; among these a tiny little girl three years—the dearest, sweetest, little cherub imaginable. It knocks one over completely to see mother kneeling silently by bedside. There is pathetic element in the utter helplessness of human love. How hard to witness suffering with a breaking heart and to be—helpless!

Our new hospital matron arrived; let us hope for better things now.[63]

Found old Englishman (Hockins) in hospital; chat and prayer in English; my first in camp.

Big load of boards arrived this morning; now there will be coffin material again for a short season.[64]

To-morrow afternoon is service, and nothing ready yet.

* * * * *

Thursday, October 10.—Sad and gloomy day.

Early visit hospital, and on entering fatal ward saw the two empty places—Mrs. Griesel and Miss Van Tonder. O, the sorrow, the bitter sorrow, of it! Went to morgue tents and saw her again in death who had suffered so long and patiently these last few weeks. Rest after weariness—sweet rest at last. But where, O where, are our prayers? May God save me from sin of unbelief and doubt during these days!

"Nie pijn nie, Minheer L., maar net zoo gedaan" (No, no pain, Mr. L., but only so weary). Thus, when I asked her on my last visit if she had any pain.

That tent too much for me now, and could not enter there to-day. God forgive my neglect!

Three others (children) also dead hospital.

Went late last evening to tents in "infected area"; found three children all very bad, and one boy struggling in Death's throes; poor little chap; he is gone since, and we buried him this afternoon.

Thirteen coffins; so sad, so painfully sad. May I never forget the weeping crowd around the open graves!

"En God zal alle tranen van hunne oogen afwisschen" (And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes); sang, "Voor eeuwig met den Heere" (For ever with the Lord). And now, where are these dead? What would I not give to have short minute's talk with that good young girl! What would she tell me? We read together so often, prayed so often, spoke about enternal things so often. And now! What now? How good and wise of God to withhold from our knowledge some certain things.

Our life here on earth must be one of Faith and Hope.

Feel so horribly low this evening.

Visits in camp, before hospital; again before funerals; also after funerals; but making no headway; hundreds of sick all about, and hundreds who can never be visited.

Great concern yesterday; officials want now to remove my tent[65], and I positively cannot do without same; and with all this worry had to prepare afternoon service; sudden inspiration and wonderful grace to boot; "Komt herwaarts tot mij alien" (Come unto me all ye that labour).

Service of great comfort to own heart.

Saw Superintendent this morning; inflexible; I am powerless because I was given the roof.

One has to stoop greatly during these days.

It hurts, it humiliates, it chafes; and one needs extra grace.

* * * * *

Saturday Night, October 12.—Saw most distressing case yesterday; Mrs. Herbst, 398; bare and empty tent; one bundle of things; one small bundle wood; few cooking utensils, and on the floor a bed (!)—couple bags as mattress and a few blankets. And there sat the mother with hands clasped round her knee and a little girl beside her; "En het jij dan nie ander goed nie?" (And have you no other goods?) "Nee, Minheer, dit is al wat ik bezit; hulle het alles van mij weggeneem" (No, sir, this is all I possess; they took everything from me).

"En waar is die ander kindje?" (And where is the other little one?) "Minheer, hij is gister begrave" (Sir, he was buried yesterday). Alone and cast-away; no friends; poverty-stricken. Such sights enough to make one's heart freeze within.

Called at hospital again before afternoon visits to find out tent number of Nellie van Tonder's parents; no one could tell; so came away determined to find tent all same; passed doctor; "Hullo, Padre, forgot to tell you of very bad case 715; afraid you won't find child alive though;" so hurried away to 715; and actually there found myself in very tent I wanted to visit. But I was too late for the child. Carried him away ten minutes before I came. Such is life! "When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions."

Instead of having to comfort and cheer in their loss of loving daughter, had to pray God for grace to bear a new and grievous burden of grief.

(Later)—Just returned hospital; a little girl moaning most pitiably, so I went to see what was matter; admitted this afternoon. Inflammation of stomach; fearful pain; such a dear, sweet little thing (can hear her moaning just now). Talked to her this afternoon, and asked her if she knew Who had made her sick? "Ja, Oom" (Yes, uncle). "Wie dan, my kind?" (Who then, my child?) "Khaki Oom" (khaki uncle). Collapse on my part.

Six coffins this afternoon; "Heere, maak mij bekend mijne einde" (Lord, make me to know mine end); great crowd; painful delay; one grave too short; had to sing three long verses while it was being lengthened.

Talk of day—Doctor got knocked down in camp this afternoon. Have not seen him whole afternoon; offending party marched to gaol; wonder what the issue will be!

* * * * *

Sunday, October 13.—Glorious eventide. What grander than to sit still at perfect rest after burden of a long and heavy day! What a day to look back upon! I tremble when I think of what I am compelled out of sheer compulsion to venture. Service this morning; "Deze zijn het die uit de groote verdrukking komen" (These are they which come out of great tribulation). This afternoon, "Hoe zou ik u overgeven, O Efraim? U overleveren, O Israel?" (How shall I give thee up, Ephraim. How shall I deliver thee, Israel?)

"Scant and small the booty proved"—more's the pity!

When will I find time to prepare myself decently?

Anyhow, comfort myself with thought that if hearers knew (and no doubt they do) how pressed I am for time, they will deal gently with my scanty productions. For myself, whole subject very unsatisfactory and unsatisfying.

Immediately after service; funerals; Mr. Becker unable; seven or eight, all children; huge crowd; splendid opportunity; "Gij dwaas hetgeen gij zaait wordt niet levend tenzij dat het gestorven is" (Thou fool, that which thou sowest is not quickened except it die).

There is a Reaper whose name is Death, Who with his sickle keen, Cuts the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.

After funerals, girls' prayer meeting.

Last and best of all—Service of Song, evening. Now what on earth can be more beautiful than our meeting this evening? Such a crowd, and such singing! Ten minutes, John iii., 16. And now the day is over.

And the sick? And the hospital? All neglected; too pitiable to contemplate. And Mrs. Grobelaar dying; when, two days ago, visited her, said as I drew napkin from face, "Ach Minheer L., het min. dan vir mij vergeet?" (O, Mr. L., have you then forgotten me?); she was delirious most of day, but when I spoke to her she was quite conscious. And how inwardly thankful when I prayed with her; poor mother; her days on earth are numbered; both lungs gone.

Little babe, Van Huyssteen, also dead this morning (mother shot on their flight by English; babe pined away out of sheer lack of nourishment).

* * * * *

Wednesday, October 16.—Getting lazy with diary; mindful of old Mark Twain.

Hear woman's voice calling "Ambulance! Ambulance! Ambulance! in 172 moet een meisje weggedra wordt" (Ambulance! in 172 a little girl has to be removed). Here go the bearers!

172 is just thirty yards from 177, where I take meals, and next to 171 old Mrs. Van Straten, whom I regularly visit, and yet I know absolutely nothing of this girl's sickness nor her death till this very minute. Enough to make one discouraged.

Of Monday's work can't remember much except that I found the "summum" of misery and distress in 678, Pelser's; whole family down measles; poverty; filth; baby ill at breast (died yesterday, buried this afternoon); sent food, but made her promise faithfully that children would be washed to-day.

What horrible thing is dirt! Surely one of greatest gifts is to be able to appreciate the "clean."

Funerals again Monday; "Zalig zijn de dooden die in den Heere sterven" (Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord); so many children again.

Visit old Mr. Du Toit on way home.

Now am I positively dead![66] "Mijnheer, min. moet mij tog een ding beloove; om als de oorlog verbij is, die preek van min. te laat druk enz enz, Om te doen gedenken" (Sir, you must promise me one thing, to publish your sermon on 'To bring to remembrance' when the war is over).

"Kan jij nou meer!"[67] Really now, after all there is nothing like a good, long, square ear-to-ear grin in this world!

Shall I deny, though, that there is just a wee drop of cheer and comfort, huge as the joke is!

Yesterday fellow who knocked down doctor returned; fined L5; and since Saturday no one to do his lines[68].

Found 597 very bad; young girl (Kruger); wants to die.

245, Mrs. Du Preez; great pain; died last night, buried this afternoon.

Two little children remain behind; saddening.

Buried six this afternoon; "Ik ben verstomd, ik deed mynen mond niet open, want Gij hebt het gedaan" (I was dumb. I opened not my mouth because Thou didst it). Saw motherless boy and girl weeping at grave (Mrs. Oliver, 107, 62, 50).

In 62 the thinnest, skeletonest babe ever seen. How old and withered up these little mites become!

Asked Dr. M. visit 262, and try and get her admitted to hospital.

Next morning actually—I repeat actually[69]—I found her there. Am wonderfully thankful; now the old grandmother can take her rest; poor old soul; so faithful; so willing, and so gentle always. One can understand better such sayings as "Faithful unto Death" when you watch those around sickbeds here in camp.

Found in 167 young mother (babe); arm very bad; no friends; alone; Mrs. Van Staden took mercy on her when she arrived ten days ago; all relatives in Norval's Pont Camp. How could she get well here!

Got doctor yesterday to give her note to headquarters, and this afternoon, after repeated visits, at length succeeded in getting her off to Norval's Pont; poor little soul; may she now find rest for her weary, fainting heart. (Feel rather satisfied with myself when I think of her (Mrs. Van Wyk) and Mrs. Grobbelaar!)

Saw this afternoon most marvellous "en aandoenlijk" (touching) thing in camp.

Mrs. Jacobs, 721; little daughter was shot through stomach on their flight from English, some three weeks ago, and the child lay 'twixt life and death for days; now she is quite well again; too wonderful for words; "Minheer, kijk hier!" (Sir, look here), and the mother unrolled a little flannel vest before my eyes. The front part had two cruel, ugly holes, one an inch, other almost two in length; the whole was as though dipped in blood. Let me be dumb—words would be wicked!

"Ja, minheer, die hempie zal ik bewaar als die grootste schat op aarde, en aan mij kinders en kinds-kinders vermaak" (Yes, sir, this little vest I shall cherish as the greatest treasure I have on earth, and shall bequeath it to my children and children's children).

Splendid meeting this evening; hearty singing; Joh. iii., 16, last Sunday; to-night "Een iegelijk" (Whosoever).

Service this afternoon; "De Heere is mijn herder" (The Lord is my shepherd).

Glad to be able to go through hospital again.

Good news; quantity of things arrived this afternoon. At last!

* * * * *

Friday Night.—"Joy cometh in the morning," so it is written, and yet it was grief and disappointment which came yesterday morning. One case goods missing; and the very one which belongs to me personally. After all these weeks of waiting—hard, hard luck! Never mind! Read few days ago of remedy for "lowness of spirit," "neerslagtigheid" (down-heartedness), "Think of the burdens of some individual you know." Excellent! Now let me think of the sorrows of that unhappy little mother, Mrs. Van Wyk, 167. When last wrote, she had left; but yesterday morning she was sent back; papers not in order; and on inquiries at office to-day was told point-blank (with a snub in the bargain) that she could no more think of going. Such a life; had not the heart to bear the news, for I heard she has been crying all day—poor little castaway. Is there no pity? Feel like Kit Kennedy. Would there were a bag of chaff somewhere near which I could pummel soundly for half an hour, just to let off steam; just to pummel something, seeing one cannot pummel somebody; it might ease the strain.

Why, this innocent creature, with bandaged arm and suckling at breast, she couldn't hurt a fly if she tried; and yet, and yet all this worry, all this endless trouble and disappointment, just to get her from here to her mother in Norval's Pont—and now? Let me not think on it! She will eat her heart away in sorrow, and no doubt soon will be at rest in a bit room six feet by three.

In hospital yesterday, found young girl (20), Henning's, dying; enteric; so young; so strong; in flower of life; it seems too awful, too contrary, "Levend zij den dood in" (Living they enter eternity); and others again, little infants, will struggle and battle for life for weeks and weeks, regular "Kannie doods" (Cannot dies, literally). Great mystery!

Mother at bedside; told me she said she was going to Jesus; "Ma, jij het nou ver mij twintig jaar ge had en nou wil die Heere vir mij he" (Mother, you have had me twenty years, and now the Lord wants me); quite unconscious when we prayed; poor mother, the helplessness, utter helplessness of Love!

In other ward Mrs. Du Toit and Mrs. Grobbelaar very, very bad; saw the worst, and prayed for them—and the end? End is this:—that this afternoon we buried these three, and sang over open graves, "Ik geloof een eeuw'ge leven" (I believe in life everlasting), "Ik ga heen om u plaats te bereiden" (I go to prepare a place for you).

I often marvel that never yet been at loss for suitable text to talk about at graves. In beginning I used to have half-hour's quiet before funerals to meditate; now my meditation comes off as we slowly wind to the sacred acre; and yet there has always been "sufficient" and "according to the need."

Visited old Mrs. Dussels, mother of Mrs. Grobelaar—"zoo tevreden, zoo stil, zoo olijmoedig, door God's genade" (So content, so quiet, so glad, through God's grace).

Village to-day; jam; autoharp tuned; roses; treat for supper; "rooster koek (scones) and grape jam.

After supper called to sick old man; old Mr. Hennings very, very weak; words of cheer; prayer; wonder if I shall ever see him alive again; don't think it; tent 8.

N.B.—So all my brag of last day "nul en van geene waarde" (null and void).

Mrs. Grobelaar, dead and buried.

Mrs. Van Wyk, "As you were."

Moral:——

* * * * *

Sunday, October 20.—The blessedness of eventide, the satisfaction after long and hard day's work; delicious feeling of rest and contentment; soothing is such solitude.

Yesterday rather "offish" whole day; felt just as though "it wouldn't come."

Visited family of Afgescheiden people; sterling Christian old lady, Mrs. Van der Heever.

In so far am at rest now with regard Mrs. Van Wyk; with doctor's help we have got her and baby safely lodged in hospital; some consolation anyhow.

In fever ward found Mrs. Olivier dying; fine, strong woman. How cruel and relentless is Death; prayed at bedside; quite unconscious, and passed away some minutes after.

Very painful task yesterday, matter which has been awaiting investigation some days already. Young girl of sixteen ran away to River with view to getting into British lines. Bad character since last year, when British entered Bethulie. Sent with mother to Bloemfontein Camp on that account by military. Weeks ago she was brought back from river, but refused to return to mother; found she was staying with notorious villian E——, whose wife ill in hospital....

Yesterday afternoon Mr. Becker, Elder du Toit, and self straight talk with E——. But oh, what a blackguard he is, and how devilishly good and obedient! Made himself out a second good Samaritan.

Took her to mother; willing to forgive and receive her back, if she is truly repentant and promises to remain and obey. And now? The Lord only knows. Mr. Becker promised to call this afternoon; must hold eye on her; must make her feel and know that we desire only her welfare. Feel convinced that unless we get her converted to God everything will be in vain.

Hurried off to village; breakfast parsonage; return with magnificent leg of mutton and salad; flowers.

Church service soon after; fortunately could use sermon prepared for last Wednesday afternoon, "Het leven is mij Christus, het sterven is mij gewin" (For me to live is Christ, to die is gain). Splendid congregation at both places.

Visit Ottos; boy very, very bad; enteric; fear worst; prayer.

After dinner, repose and preparation for afternoon service; restless hour and half with no progress; 110 texts; no go, so in despair at 2.30 got up, and after bit prayer decided to preach to young people on "En de Heere keerde zich om en zag Petrus aan" (And the Lord turned and looked upon Peter); immense crowd; wonderfully helped.

Funerals four; very large crowd; hundreds; splendid opportunity again; "En de dooden werden geoordeeld naar hetgeen in de boeken geschreven was" (And the dead were judged out of the things which were written in the books). We are all busy, each with his own book, and each day we add a page; but one day, like with these dead, we come to our last page. What have we written? How do we write? When we become God's children, God writes in letters of red—with Christ's blood as ink—over the pages of sin we have till now written, "Cleansed in Jesus's blood," and thence we write only to the glory of God. And the little children we bury to-day—they too have their little books completed, but I believe there was an angel to hold the pen of each child, and that therefore their little books will be pure before God.

After funerals, girls' prayer meeting; very enjoyable gathering; regulated prayers somewhat; first for our own special needs, second and third for our camp—sick, weary, sorrowful, careless, unconverted, hospital; fourth and fifth, relatives and friends far away; Land en Volk.

Tea, and at 7.15 our evening service of song (went to tea at 6.30, people already going to service).

Glorious singing, place inside and outside (?) simply packed; reserved seats for nurses, who arrived few minutes late; "Prys den Heere" (Praise the Lord) again; temptation too great; sudden inspiration.

"Wederzien" (God be with you) beautifully sung; also several kinderharp; so hearty, so enjoyable; quarter-hour over time; announced next meeting Tuesday night (D.V.).

And now the day is over.

Mr. Becker had huge crowd in lower church this afternoon while I had young people. May God's Word not return to Him void!

And now for a good old pipe, and a few good long thoughts of home, dear ones, and friends.

(This almost long enough for sermon, and needs only the Amen!)

* * * * *

Thursday, October 24.—Long break, four days gone by; but one day is like the other except that on alternative days I take the funerals; for the rest, each day is like preceding morning, noon, and afternoon—sick! sick! sick!

O for a change in my work! The continual cry is "Minheer, kom tog hier" (Sir, please come here), "Minheer, gaat tog daar" (Sir, please go there), and one grows so weary of scenes of suffering and sorrow; always red and tear-stained eyes; always Love, helpless, hopeless, impotent, despairing; always face to face with Decay, Change, Death; always the same close, stifling, little tent.

Such a life here as "leeraart" (chaplain) full of dull, oppressive, burdensome, wearying, saddening hours. O the monotony, the horrible monotony of my work. How welcome the hour of sunset! How blissful to lay me down to sleep! Thank God for his unspeakable gift of sleep—that period of forgetfulness, of rest, of void.

And yet let me confess, can there be any work grander, more glorious, than just this work of mine? How one can revel in it! The unspeakable bliss of being able to ease the burdens of one's fellow-men—the supreme honour of being able to be a blessing. Surely the purest pleasure here on earth—to bear one another's burdens.

To-day a grievous, burdensome day—full of worry and trouble.

Found that my tent had been unceremoniously pulled down and removed during my morning visit in camp.

Hurried home to find things lying in dire confusion, and unprotected.

"Ai, maar dit was ook genoeg om'n mens regtig moeilijk en nukkerig te maak" (Ah, but it was enough to rouse and irritate a person). But what an utter absence of the faintest traces of some respect and deference. There are men whose cold-blooded brutishness and irreverence knock one over completely. One's person, one's profession, is no guarantee, no safeguard—nay, I verily believe some glory and revel in the act of making a fellow-creature miserable.

So I sent in my resignation on the spot. "The indignity which I had suffered at the hands of the authorities makes it impossible for me to continue in my office."

And of course this made a mighty change, and there were explanations and apologies, etc., and at 1 p.m. I had another tent, and my resignation safe in drawer.

May I never have occasion to undergo such a mental, internal struggle again. One positively has need of extra grace each day, so much as regular supply and so much extra.

But now day is over and the turmoil is over. Thank God!

Funerals four; "In het huis mijns vaders" (In my Father's house); felt offish; visited old Thomas du Toit; fear he won't make it.

Thence old Mr. Van der Merwe; dying.

Too dead beat to go to Mrs. Van der Berg, who I believe is dying.

Girlie 169 also in Death's throes; horrid, cruel, wicked fever.

168, girlie, pneumonia; wishes to die. "Minheer, ik wil tog liever bij Jezus wees, hier is dit al te zwaar" (Sir, I would much rather be with Jesus; here it is too hard).

Visited Mrs. Van der Walt, 184, who lost three children some weeks (in twenty-four hours); also old Mr. Venter; alone; wife and two daughters died few weeks ago; poor old fellow! what cup of suffering.

At the graves spoke to mother, "Dit is nou mij zesde, minheer" (This is now my sixth, sir).

Several in hospital dead too.

Very sorry about old Mr. Hockins (he had died); did not visit him during last few days.

Hospital removed to-day; right out of camp; great undertaking. Will mean so much more time lost for me.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 61: Size of this house (!), 10 feet by 7 feet; height, 7-1/2 feet.]

[Footnote 62: The Orange River is an hour's walk from Camp.]

[Footnote 63: This is no reflection upon the two nurses, Miss Rouvier and Miss Roos, who had the management of the hospital. The arrival of a new matron simply meant more help.]

[Footnote 64: These boards were sold at 7s. 6d. a piece to the people.]

[Footnote 65: This room was built at my own expense, but I was obliged to ask the Superintendent for six old sheets of galvanized iron for the roof. When the building was finished, I was told, to my dismay, that my tent would now have to be given up, as I had been given a roof.]

[Footnote 66: Exclamation of amusement—a literal translation from the Dutch.]

[Footnote 67: Literally again, Can you want more?]

[Footnote 68: Two very sympathetic doctors came about ten days later. One was Dr. Stuart, the other's name I do not remember.]

[Footnote 69: This emphatic surprise because of the great dislike that was usually shown to accept dying patients.]



CONCLUSION.

Here the Diary ends abruptly.

The last entry is Thursday, the 24th October.

I continued work until the Sunday following; but after the services of the day I felt a little more than simply tired. On Monday, however, the funerals had to be taken in the afternoon. That was the last duty done in camp. Then I knew enteric was upon me, and on Friday, the 1st November, they carried me into hospital.

After more than a month in hospital, during convalescence (but while mentally affected) I ran away to the Van As's. It was a case of mental delusion. The whole issue of the war depended upon me—could I be kept in hospital, then the English would win; was I allowed to escape, the Boers would win.

After ten days in camp again (for I was wisely left alone), it slowly dawned upon me (while waiting for a permit to return home) that every one had been bought over to conspire against me. So I left the camp one evening after dark. Mr. Becker was the only man to be trusted, and to the Beckers forthwith I fled.

In another ten days my brother arrived to take me home.

During these days of blank, my chief pastime was to recite the Burial Service.

When once home, complete recovery came speedily.



NOTE TO CONCLUSION.

A.—Three subjects there were which, while writing the Diary, I decided to treat fully later—"The Daily Funerals," "The Sanitation," and "The Officials." This could be done from memory, and could well stand aside while devoting my time to the daily experiences.

There is, however, too much of the morbid in the Diary already without wilfully adding more, so "The Daily Funerals" is let alone.

The second will be too disgusting, so it must stand over too; and as for "The Officials," two have since died (December, 1901—enteric), and so that chapter as well may not be written.

B.—One word more on the mortality of the Camp. Here is the official record of the deaths:—

1901—May, June, July 47 August 175 September 236 October 154 November 236 December 276 1902—January-March 183 ———- Total 1,307

The Rev. Mr. Becker, however (who made a point of noting down the exact number of deaths each day) gives 206, 246, 157 as the totals for August, September, October respectively. The amended grand total would then come to 1,351.



TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:

Variant spellings have been retained. In a few instances, punctuation and spelling errors have been corrected. These are listed below.

1) In Footnote 20, the original reads: "The flour given was good for the bread was usually excellent." A comma has been added.

2) In Chapter II, page 16; the original reads "A cenus taken lately".

3) In Chapter II, page 39; the original reads "same one I had long tallks with before".

4) In Chapter II, page 49: the original reads "so had hrriedly to go".

5) In Chapter II, page 52: the original reads "What one longs for is possibility to have on day or afternoon off".

6) In Footnote 51, the original reads: "... sing only Psalms. never Hymns." A period has been replaced with a comma.

7) In Chapter III, page 58: the original reads: "you won't find child alive though;;".

END OF TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES