CHAP.  II.

Sunday, September 1.—­Recklessness; preached twice to-day without any preparation; “sommer uit die vuis uit” (literally, straight from the fist); simply compelled to; very unpleasant day; wind and dust; made services very short; fifty-five minutes.

In afternoon a large crowd of young people.

Mr. Otto took funerals for me this morning (eleven buried).

This afternoon Mr. Becker buried six.

About fourteen have died since last night.

It is pitiable to see the innocent little children and babies suffering and struggling against the accursed pneumonia; and there seems no hope when once they get it.  Poor little mites!

A census taken lately gives 683 as the number of sick.  Milk ration[27] has been stopped since yesterday; new sorrow.  Our Camp a veritable valley of desolation.  For the very essence of sorrow and misery, come here!  For weeping, wailing mothers, come here!  For broken hearts, come here!  For desperate misery and hopelessness, come here!  What would become of us if we had not our Religion to fall back upon!  What, if we had not the assurance that a Good and Merciful God reigns above!  What if there was no Love!  What, if there was no hope of the Resurrection and Life Everlasting!  What, if there is nothing beyond the Grave!

The nights here are so awful, and one yearns for day; and then the fearfulness of being awakened repeatedly in the night by the tramp of those who carry away the dead to the morgue tents.  I woke last night in such a way, and knew that they were bearing young Herklaas away.  One grows a bit pessimistic under the circumstances.  Despite my services, I had to visit several sick—­mostly dying children, with weeping mothers.  It is so hard to pray, and so very wearying.  And then, to comfort and cheer, when your own heart is lead within.

In the hospital there are many sick; am neglecting the hospital, and my conscience hurts, but am going regularly from to-morrow; must find time somewhere.

Mrs. De Lint’s children are all sick; baby very bad; poor woman; am so sorry for her; Peter away in Ceylon.

Those deep rings round the eyes, which one sees all about, bear testimony to nights of watching and of anguish in the heart.  May God take pity!

Monday, September 2.—­Bitter day, the bitterest I have yet had; Superintendent furious because of my last letters[28].  The worst is I see that I am altogether misunderstood, and that I am suspected now of interfering and working against the Superintendent.  And yet this is not so, for I would go to-morrow if I knew I was at all hostile to the authorities.  I fear I have been indiscreet in what I wrote; shall have straight talk to-morrow, and ask Superintendent to let me resign if I have not his confidence; there must be no suspicion, otherwise I cannot stay.  This matter is a load upon my heart.