Sunday, October 6.—No diary yesterday; spent morning at river[62]; hour's walk; small party, seven; persuaded Mr. Fourie to join; wife betterish.
Forgot for the while there was such a thing as a camp, and in the beauties, rugged and rude, of Nature able to enjoy life once more and banish thoughts of sickness, hospitals, deaths, funerals, etc. The grand old river!
Returned early with Mr. F. and did few hours' visiting.
To-day most busy and tiring day, as all Sundays are.
Service at ten and again at three.
Funerals at 5 p.m., four; after, prayer meeting.
Luckily (!) weather threatening, so announced there would be no meeting to-night; thankful in my soul.
And now the gentle drops making music on my roof; really it is too grand; one feels like living again to be in room where you can stand upright all over.
Miss Ferreira died last night; buried this afternoon; "Zalig zijn de dooden die in den Heere sterven" (Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord); large crowd at cemetery.
But to think that so young and so strong a person should so suddenly be called away; "Levende gaan zij de eeuwigheid binnen" (literally, Living they enter eternity).