I have said that the Boer is practical in all things; he is even so in love.  The old story concerning the ‘opzit’ candle may have applied in former days, but the Boer of the present day does not waste his time in any such fashion.  He has probably become cognisant of the match-making methods practised by other nations, and he has, therefore, abandoned that affected by his forefathers.  It is still a common thing, however, to see him astride a horse with a sleek skin and noble appearance and plenty of life in it, cantering gaily towards the residence of his beloved or intended.  Sometimes, too, in order, perhaps, to add more lustre to his own appearance, he is to be seen suffering untold agony under the unyielding brim of a tall, white felt hat, trimmed with green veiling.  He likes to look imposing, and so he gets under that hat.  This in many instances may account for the restiveness of his steed, which is as yet unaccustomed to the weight of a person with such a grotesque headgear.

The Boer has several methods of courting.  There is one thing he objects very strongly to, however—­he doesn’t like courting in a drawing-room; he prefers a dark and quiet corner on the veranda.  Let us picture a little scene in this connection.  Observe young Piet, dressed in his best Sunday suit, and wearing a worried look in addition, sitting on one end of a long form that stands on the veranda of the house; and observe also a fair young damsel, who has just been initiated into the art of doing her hair up on top, sitting on the other extreme end of that form.  The night may be dark and only the stars visible, or the moon may be shining brightly overhead, casting shadows awry here and there, and endeavouring to catch a furtive glimpse of the lovers under cover of the veranda.

A painful silence takes the place of conversation at the outset, and young Piet occasionally coughs in an apologetic manner.  When he does sum up sufficient courage, the moon has travelled a considerable distance; but then Piet is not so sentimental as to make any reference whatever to the moon.

‘That’s a fine horse your father has bought of Dirk Odendaal,’ says Piet, in a tone which suggests that his new paper collar, purchased for the occasion, is choking him.

A two minutes’ pause ensues.

‘Ja!  Piet,’ agreeably assents the maiden after an interval which Piet reckons must be at least half an hour—­and he has forgotten about the new horse altogether.

‘Your father’s oxen are looking well after the rain,’ continues Piet some minutes later; and this time he has reduced the space between himself and the maiden by about three inches.

After the lapse of another few minutes, the maiden, who is evidently bashful, ventures again, ‘Ja!  Piet.’

Piet’s eyes wander away across the open veldt in front of him, and gradually from the observation of kopjes, they wander upwards towards the pale moon; but, as has already been remarked, that luminary suggests no new theme in the mind of Piet.