Washing-stand looks handsome, thanks to Stienie; oilcloth will make
it quite spruce.

Young man addressed me quite intimate-like this afternoon, "En wat
schrijf maat in de boekie?" ("Mate, what are you writing in that
book?")

Mr. Becker funerals; don't know number.

* * * * *

Thursday, September 12.--News from Steytler[39]; sent away from
Potchefstroom; let me be doubly careful. I am so attached to my work
now, love it, that it would be a grievous burden were I compelled to
give it up[40].

Only there is too much, too much to do, and if I visit one side of
the Camp, the other side has to be neglected. Five would have their
hands comfortably full here, and then there would be less "oorslaan"
(neglect).

I am continually asked to visit new sick people; there seems to be no
end to all the sickness.

The woman in 34 is very bad; next door to 626 is also great misery;
children very sick and without medical attendance. That is so
sorrowful; the number of tents where no doctor comes[41], the absence
of invalid food and nourishment; the hard, bare floor (heard of a
case yesterday where grass had begun to grow under sick bed); the