week, which would seem to indicate that rich young
widows are very plentiful.

In these latter days a Boer wedding is arranged on a very grand scale.
No matter if the young couple reside fifty miles from the nearest
town, they all come in to church to get fixed up. Friends and
relations arrive, with great ostentation, in conveyances drawn by
four, six, and sometimes eight, horses, the number depending on the
wealth of the families. They come from far and near. You can see them
coming to town when they are yet miles away across the veldt--that is,
if the day is bright. The dresses of the women-folks flash gaily in
the sun, and the old vrouw would not change places with the Queen of
Holland as she proudly surveys her offspring seated around her in the
wagonette. The old man presides unctuously at the ribbons, and he
cracks his whip every now and then just to let his team know that he
is there, and that he is a very capable person.

[Illustration: DUTCH CHURCH (PRETORIA)]

The generality of weddings are uninteresting, but occasionally
something unique is introduced. In the town of Harrismith a very long
time ago, a transport-rider decided to take unto himself a fair
partner. He was a practical sort of person, and in cases of this kind
he did not believe in allowing business to become a secondary
consideration. Transport-riding in those days paid very handsomely,
and the intervention of side issues might have meant a serious loss.
Accordingly, this particular gentleman (who had meantime been loading
up coal) repaired to his tent-waggon at the appointed hour, and
proceeded to attire himself in the conventional black suit. In order
to economize time, he pulled his best clothes over his working
garments, and hastily rubbing his face and hands with a coarse towel,
he hurried towards the church. Within ten minutes he was back again
loading up coal, his better half being occupied in preparing dinner.

The Dutch are not a musical nation, and for convincing proof it is
only necessary to attend Divine service in any of their churches.
Their rendition of psalm-tunes reminds me of A.K.H.B.'s story
regarding the lonely Italian, who, passing the Iron Church in
Edinburgh one Sunday morning while the congregation were engaged in
praise, and on inquiring of the beadle 'What that horrible noise was?'
remarked very sorrowfully, 'Then their God must have no ear for
music' It is strange, nevertheless, that no matter how poor a Boer may
be