Record day so far; visited thirty-five tents; very hard task. It is so delightful to offer up a thanksgiving prayer for a change; the usual "noodgebed" (emergency prayer) is most wearying. Thank God, that in some I found "beterschap" (convalescence).
Am striking out in new direction now; there is too much despondency and heaviness of spirit rampant; anyhow, extremely difficult task, for the conditions all around are most lamentably depressing.
Am going to sew blankets into bag this evening, a la Hanglip[15]; last night bitterly cold; frost this morning; to-day very hot again; these two extremes so disastrous to the sick.
440 little better, and 383 much better.
190; Mrs. Taljard died last night.
Deaths at 201, 312, and 460 also; and all these had never yet been visited. Here is where the dissatisfaction comes in; and yet, how am I to know?
In 436 a child died; mother in great sorrow.
Next to 416 is Mrs. Van der Walt; very sick; not at all serene within; such cases very hard. While at dinner suddenly called to Mrs. Van der Walt—death's throes; prayer; when at dinner, on return, heard the horrible whistle go.
Our wood is done, and there remains nothing wherewith to make coffins; will have to bury in blankets to-morrow I fear; this will cause extra affliction and unhappiness. Pitiable to see husband of Mrs. Van der Walt pleading for boxes which could not be given; and he was "schatryk" (very rich) they say. There will be a great outcry, I'm afraid. And yet, after all, will a coffin save the soul?
After dinner, 169; baby died; mother sorely stricken.