Called in to see woman who had just received news that husband had fallen in battle.  Such sorrow is too great to realise; one can only stand afar off to behold—­and weep.

At 3 p.m. suddenly told that no one to take women’s prayer meeting; so had hurriedly to go without so much as minute’s preparation; quite large crowd.

Mr. Becker played me trick; he took funerals; four I believe, so I had time to make short visit hospital.

Doctor stopped me two days ago, and said the man B——­ in hospital wished to be left alone; so left him alone; but this evening he has gone to meet his God.  Could never make him out.  Was it ignorance or obstinacy or indifference?  May God have mercy on his soul.

Old Mr. Norval also died this afternoon; thank God; too terrible to see him struggling with Death; unconscious the last three days; glad read Psalm and prayed with him a few days ago.

And so our fellow-men around us are carried off by Death; and now they are solving the great mystery of the Hereafter.  Stupendous thought!

These same men, women and children with whom I prayed, to whom I spoke about eternal things—­they know now what we are burning to know.  Is there Life after Death?  Is there a Heaven?  Is there a Hell?  What do the departed do just now?  Is there perhaps a purgatory where souls are purified?  Is there a Throne above, around which a crowd that cannot be numbered stand clothed in long white robes?  What about the palm branches?  And a thousand more questions.

“The just shall live by his faith.”

Last night children’s service in lower church; great crowd; “En tot zich zelven gekomen zijnde” (And when he came to himself).

This evening similar service in upper church; very bright and hearty; Miss Dussel sang hymn and solo part of “Mannen breeders” (Hold the Fort); nice change in programme; accompanied her on autoharp.

This morning went over to village and exchanged pulpits with Mr. Becker; felt quite lost in big, empty church.

Old sermon had to “bite off spit"[60]; goodness knows where I would have found time to prepare one.

Had nice chat with Macdonald’s father.

Grand dinner; roast mutton and actually a dish full of gravy!  Could scarce believe my eyes; real gravy; how glorious; and rice too.  Think of it!  Let me be silent about the dish of stewed peaches—­I might fill pages—­a dish fit for the gods.  Wonder what the look and smell of a vegetable is?  Have just faint recollection of such names as potatoes, onions, beans, cauliflower, pumpkin, but I get a bit blurred when try to discriminate; long absence has stunted my memory.  Believe there is a vegetable called beetroot too, and wonder if the name cabbage is correct.  By the way, what do we call that stuff one sometimes puts on bread for breakfast and tea?  I believe, too, having heard and partaken of a preparation called jam in days gone by.  And what, now what, do they always put in tea and coffee in other places?  Fancy it has whitish colour; have an idea it can be drunk pure too.