if she pulls through it will be a
miracle. Mr. Van der Merwe very, very bad indeed (enteric); wonder
if! Sad; mother died some days ago; then young wife, and yesterday
his little daughter was buried. Is there a sorrow like to our sorrow?

Little boy is dying in hospital.

49; child also dead.

156; of these remaining orphans (Joubert's), one little girlie is
dying. Foeitog!

70 very much better.

Got bedstead for 631; three little children dangerously ill; and all
three "deurgele" (bedsores); "Mammie, mammie, mij boutjes is zoo
zeer" ("Mother, mother, my legs are so sore").

The misery there is heartrending; hard ground; cold and wet as well.
Poor little mites; and nourishment?

Second visit. Found mother down too; terrible pain. What will happen
now, I wonder!

Called in to 620; old Mrs. Roux; sick; prayer; asked me to come
again.

Wish I could press a button and summon papa to do the praying part
for me!

Number of deaths so far (according to Mr. Becker's funeral lists)
about 420.

Since I've been here (25 days), we have buried about 300. Appalling
figures!

This afternoon (Mr. Becker), funerals eight.

* * * * *

Monday, September 16.--Flood.

Our Camp one sheet of water and mud; furrow too small for the rush of
water; great inundations; many tents flooded; great misery; and how
about the cooking business? Everything to be done outside (we are
among the few privileged with a kitchen). Women have to wade through
water and mud; wet wood; raining continually. Just picture the scene!

Came to one tent; in front of door one mass clay and mud; inside
awful; and yet there lay a girl very dangerously sick, and another
also down.

425, Mrs. Booysen; skeleton; completely flooded; everything wet; and
the floor! Yesterday they got her a bedstead; till now she had to lie
on the floor; sick daughter; wonder where she will sleep. Floor?
Impossible.

In another tent rain leaked through; water all over.

Another matter which tells of fresh misery. The sanitary sheds and
screens are all some distance out of the camp. Imagine the
painfulness of affairs on days like this, when one hardly dares put
head out of doors.

Overheard conversation between old man and doctor:

You, what do you want here? Go away from this ---- tent! Voetzak,
voetzak! Get away from this ---- tent!" This was to an old man. It
makes one's blood boil. There is no real--no, not a particle
of--sympathy.