‘The last Nachtmaal was very good.’

With this he once more edges away from his end of the form and covers an additional three inches.

‘Ja!  Piet.’

Another person would have become exasperated at this stage, but not so Piet.

‘The new minister preaches very well,’ is followed up by an advance of three more inches.

‘Ja, Piet!’

The form may be an inconveniently long one, and this naturally hampers Piet somewhat, because by the time he has covered half the distance, his stock of remarks may be exhausted.  But he gets close up in time, by the exercise of perseverance, and when he is at last in a position to manipulate his left arm in connection with the maiden’s waist, he does so with a sigh of relief.

‘I think I love you a great deal,’ is what he says when he has placed his arm to his satisfaction.  The maiden whispers ‘Ja, Piet!’ and the thing is done.

But the young Boer does not attach so much importance to pleasant features and agreeable dispositions, as he does to the worldly standing of the lady’s parents.  If there is the slightest prospect of a handsome dowry in the shape of one or two farms, the inducement to enter into married bliss is, of course, greater than in the case of the young lady who merely brings with her a nice set of false teeth and a pleasant countenance.  Young widows are in great demand throughout the country, because, as a rule, they are in possession of farms and stock which require the undivided attention of a responsible man, and that man must be a husband.

Such an instance occurred only the other day.  This very fortunate young man, before his betrothal, could conveniently count his riches on the fingers of his left hand—­in pence!  But he is happy now, because he can bring in a load of wool every year with his own waggon and oxen, and talk to the merchant with all the swagger and assurance of a full-blown capitalist.

It must not be supposed that such occurrences are uncommon; they happen almost every week, which would seem to indicate that rich young widows are very plentiful.

In these latter days a Boer wedding is arranged on a very grand scale.  No matter if the young couple reside fifty miles from the nearest town, they all come in to church to get fixed up.  Friends and relations arrive, with great ostentation, in conveyances drawn by four, six, and sometimes eight, horses, the number depending on the wealth of the families.  They come from far and near.  You can see them coming to town when they are yet miles away across the veldt—­that is, if the day is bright.  The dresses of the women-folks flash gaily in the sun, and the old vrouw would not change places with the Queen of Holland as she proudly surveys her offspring seated around her in the wagonette.  The old man presides unctuously at the ribbons, and he cracks his whip every now and then just to let his team know that he is there, and that he is a very capable person.