e fact
that it is seldom necessary to introduce one Boer to another--they are
very well acquainted without such formalities; if they are not, they
very soon strike up an acquaintance.

Of course there are exceptions, and I remember one in particular. The
instance I refer to occurred in a store. One of the gentlemen in
question was leaning heavily against the counter, and one could
observe at a glance that he, at least, had a good opinion of himself.
Presently Boer number two entered. He was small in stature, like the
other man, but there was a note of uncertainty about him which seemed
to betoken that his opinion of himself did not measure up in
proportion to that of the other Boer. Number two looked about him a
bit, and occasionally directed a furtive glance at number one, who, on
the other hand, stolidly regarded the array of goods spread out before
him. Number two seemed to have settled the question in his own mind at
last, for he approached the other party and held out his hand.

'I am Britz,' he said laconically, as the other touched the
outstretched hand indifferently.

'Ja!' said number one; 'I am Papenfus.'

The conversation ended here, and number two made a silent departure.

[Illustration: WAGGONS BRINGING WOOL TO EARLY MORNING MARKET
(JOHANNESBURG)]

The preliminary salutations of another pair of Boers are probably as
interesting. It was during a prolonged drought, and both gentlemen had
evidently experienced a difficulty in finding a sufficiency of
water for the purposes of ablution. They had not met for a number of
years, but the recognition was mutual.

'Almachtig, Gert, you are still as ugly as ever!'

'Ja!' replied the other readily; 'and you are still alive with that
face!'

The Boer is coarse in his conversation, although he prefers to regard
it as wit. He likes to participate in a conversation bristling with
this sort of wit, but when you come to tell him a really good thing,
he fails entirely to grasp the point, and your joke falls flat,
resulting usually in a painful silence.

He is also very chary of complications in the handling of money. He
brings his wool into town once, and sometimes twice, a year, and that
staple comprises the current coin of the country. His clip is weighed
off in due course, and he proceeds to the store and sits down while
the clerk figures up the amount. You may be foolish enough to ask him
if he will buy a plough or a bag of coffee, but he continues to smoke