Neglected 475.
The poor little mites! the horrid, cruel pneumonia! and there seems to be no saving them when once the pneumonia, grips them.
Mr. Becker took funerals, seventeen; several in blankets.
And so we go forth day by day; the dread whistle; the regular tramp of the bearers to morgue tents, and the slowly winding procession every afternoon.
Called hurriedly to hospital twice; dying girl just brought in; could understand.
Hysterical girl Martie[30], swearing and cursing all round; each nurse in particular, and the whole lot generally.
Old Mrs. Van Zyl, 492, evidently dying.
Called to enquire after old Mrs. Oosthuizen; found she had died soon after last visit.
Pleasant evening; stories of my travels; in Italy once more.