"Wie is daar? Wat is dit?" ("Who is there? What is it?")
"Zal Minheer L---- assemblief gou kom naar Mrs. Meintjes? Zij le op
sterve!" ("Will Mr. L---- please come quickly to Mrs. Meintjes? She is
dying!")
Just returned; delirious; called her by name after prayer, and she
became conscious for a few seconds; fear her moments on earth are
numbered. How good of those girls to watch over her! Husband rushed
out of tent in tears. Now, what could I do?
"Is there no pity sitting in the clouds can see into the bottom of
our grief?"
10 p.m., walked through Camp.
Great coughs; little coughs; deep coughs; shrill coughs; hoarse
coughs; long coughs; short coughs; coughs that are no coughs at all.
Wonder how many are to die to-night!
* * * * *
Wednesday, August 28.--Now if there is anything that rubs me up the
wrong way, it is to see a crowd around a tent doorway, watching the
end. Yesterday I lost my temper at 35, and gave it hot all round.
Such barefaced curiosity is revolting; I hate it.
Yes, 35 (21 years) passed away last night, and so did 415 (Mrs.
Meintjes), whom I visited late last evening.
This morning the black list was laid on my table; twelve[17] in the
night--339, 415, 125, 253, 180, 526, 419, 35, 353, 450, I didn't
expect 415 to live long.
The night has been a most restless one; "Ja, minheer, ons het
vannacht nie rust gehad nie" ("Yes, sir, we had no rest last night")
(morgue tents men).
I woke at 2 a.
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