her
several times according to our customs, and burnt many very long
candles,[*] we were married and went to live on a farm of our own at a
distance. For my part I have never regretted it, although doubtless I
might have done much better for myself; and if Jan did, he has been wise
enough not to say so to me. In this country most of us women must choose
a man to look after--it is a burden that Heaven lays upon us--so one
may as well choose him one fancies, and Jan was my fancy, though why he
should have been I am sure I do not know. Well, if he had any wits left
he would speak up and tell what a blessing I have been to him, and how
often my good sense has supplied the lack of his, and how I forgave him,
yes, and helped him out of the scrape when he made a fool of himself
with--but I will not write of that, for it makes me angry, and as likely
as not I should throw something at him before I had finished, which he
would not understand.

[*] It is customary among the Boers for the suitor to sit up
alone at night with the object of his choice. Should the
lady favour him, she lights long candles, but if he does not
please her she produces "ends," signifying thereby that she
prefers his room to his company.--Author.

No, no; I do not regret it, and, what is more, when my man dies I shall
not be long behind him. Ah! they may talk, all these wise young people;
but, after all, what is there better for a woman than to love some man,
the good and the bad of him together, to bear his children and to share
his sorrows, and to try to make him a little better and a little less
selfish and unfortunate than he would have been alone? Poor men! Without
us women their lot would be hard indeed, and how they will get on in
heaven, where they are not allowed to marry, is more than I can guess.

So we married, and within a year our daughter was born and christened by
the family name of Suzanne after me, though almost from her cradle
the Kaffirs called her "Swallow," I am not sure why. She was a very
beautiful child from the first, and she was the only one, for I was ill
at her birth and never had any more children. The other women with their
coveys of eight and ten and twelve used to condole with me about this,
and get a sharp answer for their pains. I had one which always shut
their mouths, but I won't ask the girl here to set it down. An only
daughter was enough for me, I said, and if it wasn't I shouldn't have
to