“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).