FOOTNOTES:[27]Condensed milk.[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.[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.[30]Martie Snyman.[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.[32]Betty Lotz.[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.[34]On the ground.[35]Aunt; she was really the grandmother, though. Reference is made later to this same case.[36]For cocoa.[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.[38]I had brought with me six tins syrup, a few tins jam, 1 lb. of tea, and a little oatmeal.[39]The Rev. J. Steytler, who had also gone to labour in a camp. He was sent away for political reasons.[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.[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.[42]Dutch idiom, literally translated, "pull through."[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.[44]Mr. Otto, the Schoolmaster of Dewetsdorp, a God-fearing man, with a large heart and a great soul—a blessing to many.[45]The last day for the Boers to lay down arms, according to Kitchener's great proclamation.[46]Whereon I used to hang out my bedding.[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.[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.[49]Baby Van As.[50]Which I practically stole.[51]Members of the Afgescheidene Kerk (Doppers) sing only Psalms, never Hymns.[52]This was Mrs. Van der Berg—Lenie's mother.[53]Lenie van der Berg.[54]My brother packed a box of groceries for me, and my mother bought a fresh supply of invalid food.[55]Merchant at Bloemfontein, to whom I had written for groceries.[56]The two shops in Camp contained precious little, and no foodstuffs.[57]Mr. Van As and Mr. Fourie were the contractors.[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.)[59]I got permission first.[60]Literally from Dutch "spit afbijten"—bear the brunt.
[27]Condensed milk.
[27]Condensed milk.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[30]Martie Snyman.
[30]Martie Snyman.
[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.
[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.
[32]Betty Lotz.
[32]Betty Lotz.
[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.
[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.
[34]On the ground.
[34]On the ground.
[35]Aunt; she was really the grandmother, though. Reference is made later to this same case.
[35]Aunt; she was really the grandmother, though. Reference is made later to this same case.
[36]For cocoa.
[36]For cocoa.
[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.
[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.
[38]I had brought with me six tins syrup, a few tins jam, 1 lb. of tea, and a little oatmeal.
[38]I had brought with me six tins syrup, a few tins jam, 1 lb. of tea, and a little oatmeal.
[39]The Rev. J. Steytler, who had also gone to labour in a camp. He was sent away for political reasons.
[39]The Rev. J. Steytler, who had also gone to labour in a camp. He was sent away for political reasons.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[42]Dutch idiom, literally translated, "pull through."
[42]Dutch idiom, literally translated, "pull through."
[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.
[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.
[44]Mr. Otto, the Schoolmaster of Dewetsdorp, a God-fearing man, with a large heart and a great soul—a blessing to many.
[44]Mr. Otto, the Schoolmaster of Dewetsdorp, a God-fearing man, with a large heart and a great soul—a blessing to many.
[45]The last day for the Boers to lay down arms, according to Kitchener's great proclamation.
[45]The last day for the Boers to lay down arms, according to Kitchener's great proclamation.
[46]Whereon I used to hang out my bedding.
[46]Whereon I used to hang out my bedding.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[49]Baby Van As.
[49]Baby Van As.
[50]Which I practically stole.
[50]Which I practically stole.
[51]Members of the Afgescheidene Kerk (Doppers) sing only Psalms, never Hymns.
[51]Members of the Afgescheidene Kerk (Doppers) sing only Psalms, never Hymns.
[52]This was Mrs. Van der Berg—Lenie's mother.
[52]This was Mrs. Van der Berg—Lenie's mother.
[53]Lenie van der Berg.
[53]Lenie van der Berg.
[54]My brother packed a box of groceries for me, and my mother bought a fresh supply of invalid food.
[54]My brother packed a box of groceries for me, and my mother bought a fresh supply of invalid food.
[55]Merchant at Bloemfontein, to whom I had written for groceries.
[55]Merchant at Bloemfontein, to whom I had written for groceries.
[56]The two shops in Camp contained precious little, and no foodstuffs.
[56]The two shops in Camp contained precious little, and no foodstuffs.
[57]Mr. Van As and Mr. Fourie were the contractors.
[57]Mr. Van As and Mr. Fourie were the contractors.
[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.)
[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.)
[59]I got permission first.
[59]I got permission first.
[60]Literally from Dutch "spit afbijten"—bear the brunt.
[60]Literally from Dutch "spit afbijten"—bear the brunt.
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.
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 £5; 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. Iopened 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'squiet 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 ferver 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. Andnow? 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.