Wednesday, September 4.—My visits to hospital I love.
That one girl such a sad case; fever and most terrible headache; they say it is sunstroke.
Hysterical girl quiet.
Filth and stench in some tents almost unbearable.
Nos. 34 and 35 very bad; ventilated tent myself; some folks built that way, and sickness becomes their trench behind which they shelter. But I will persist in maintaining that no matter the sickness, no matter the distress and poverty, cleanliness is a possibility anywhere[31]. But what an opportunity for the careless to degenerate!
Managed to get bedstead for Mrs. Van Zyl; fear she won't last long.
I wonder what the safest policy would be when two women pour out their griefs into your ear at the same time. When they simultaneously tell you all about their departed cherubs? Some people selfish in their sorrow. Took little camphor brandy Mrs. Niemand's; tent full lamenting womenfolk; and the helpless babe casting her black eyes from one to another. Some people will insist on anticipating the Almighty (the child is dead, though).
Saw a child to-day the very image of a mouse; two months' illness; large ears; black eyes; thin, bony hands; huddled together.
Very busy afternoon.
Funerals at 4 p.m.; eighteen corpses; "En God zal alle tranen van hunne oogen afwisschen" (And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes).