particularly so in my own case, for here was I, who should have been but
a cheerful lad, oppressed with the sorrows and anxieties, and fettered
by the affections of maturity.

I could not get Marie out of my mind; her image was with me by day and
by night, especially by night, which caused me to sleep badly. I became
morose, supersensitive, and excitable. I developed a cough, and
thought, as did others, that I was going into a decline. I remember
that Hans even asked me once if I would not come and peg out the exact
place where I should like to be buried, so that I might be sure that
there would be no mistake made when I could no longer speak for myself.
On that occasion I kicked Hans, one of the few upon which I have ever
touched a native. The truth was that I had not the slightest intention
of being buried. I wanted to live and marry Marie, not to die and be
put in a hole by Hans. Only I saw no prospect of marrying Marie, or
even of seeing her again, and that was why I felt low-spirited.

Of course, from time to time news of the trek-Boers reached us, but it
was extremely confused. There were so many parties of them; their
adventures were so difficult to follow, and, I may add, often so
terrible; so few of them could write; trustworthy messengers were so
scanty; distances were so great. At any rate, we heard nothing of
Marais's band except a rumour that they had trekked to a district in
what is now the Transvaal, which is called Rustenberg, and thence on
towards Delagoa Bay into an unknown veld where they had vanished. From
Marie herself no letter came, which showed me clearly enough that she
had not found an opportunity of sending one.

Observing my depressed condition, my father suggested as a remedy that I
should go to the theological college at Cape Town and prepare myself for