The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1900-08-11
A GOOD SORT OF WAR LETTER.
me Rocky Boer Language, a Dutch
Lass as Teacher, and a Drmatic
"Curtain."
From the London News.

From the London News.
IL Is bad thing TO travel in a country
during war time even when YOU are IA
miliar with its language, but Ii is far
worse when you know only enough of the
native tongue to make yourself misunder-
stood says the Orange River Colony cor
respondent. 1 have managed to get my
self into some gorgeously picturesque sit
uations on this account. and more than
once have vowed TO master the Boer da-
lect or wreck my talking apparatus in the
attempt. 1t is not an easy language to
learn II is very like their kopjes steep,
rough, rocky, and disjointed; and. like the
Ropes, YOU can't take il by storm but
must climb steadily and with patience,
ana make sure of one step before you
venture on the next. II is a superb Ian
guage 10 use when one is driving bullocks.
or blacks; the first sentence seems to roll
Off the lips like a malediction. and the
second chops OFF short like the bark of
toy terrier. l should ask for no finer form
of speech on earth if wanted TO curse
mine enemy, but how on earth they man
age 10 make love with it passes my COM
prehension. Still, I thought il might come
in handy if only TO brighten Australian
horses with, and kept constantly on the
lookout for chance TO learn; and verify
my chance came unto me in due season.
didn't learn the dialect, but I learned
something else. which may prove equally
useful in later life.
We had pitched camp for a week, in
| order to allow the ever-dallying provision
conveys to catch up to us; So obtaining
permission from headquarters, l saddled
up and rode out to do a little scouting on
my own account, for l have long since
learned that it's no use hanging around
camp If you want to know anything about
the real life of the folk who dwell in the
land. About six miles from our lines / ran
against dainty little farmhouse cuddled
up against the slope of a shrub-covered
kopje. On one side of the dwelling a trel-
isWork of vines broke the wind. and on
the other long. double row OF orange
trees beautiied the scene. Tall, graceful
popular trees whisped in the wind at both
front and rear, while a pretty flower gar
den, fragrant with flowers, spread far
away in front of the substantial dwelling.
l was admiring these things from my
horses back when it suddenly dawned
upon me that had possibly played the :m-
beetle in straying so far from camp But
it was 700 late to hang back. If the far
mer-folk were friendly, / was in luck;
for the inside of such a dwelling could
not be ill-supplied with creature comforts.
IT, however, they were hostile, l was at
their mercy. l had no desire to match my
pony's pace against the flight of a Mauser
bullet; so humming a song and thinking of
a psalm I rode forward as if certain OF
kindly welcome. An elderly Boer with
kindly face met me at the door and gave
me the time of day with all civilty; mig
ger lad took hold of my bride, and
swung myself out of the saddle just in
time TO receive civil greeting from the
farmers wife, just such a farmers wife
as one is apt to see in any part of Eng
land, healthy, wholesome substantial,
well-fed, and well-cothed. They invited
me inside, and there their four daughters
introduced themselves to me. They All
talked English as we'll as I could, and be-
fore I had been there twenty seconds I
had arrived at the conclusion that should
never get a better chance to study the
language of the people of our foes and
determined to sacrifice myself upon the
fiinty shrine of duty. Three of the maid
ems were plain-faced, good honest-looking
girls, but the fourth had a face like a
young preachers first public prayer-a face
that many a man would risk his life for.
So much of my whole career has been
passed amid the rougher ard more rugged
scenes of life that a description CT dainty
womanhood comes awkwardly from me
But have read so much about the ugli-
ness and clunlSiness of the Boer women
in British journals that I should like to
try and describe this daughter of the
ve'dt, although cny a farmers daughter.
I do not know if she should be called
short or tall, but her cheek could have
nestled comfortably on the shoulder of
fair sized man. l do not know how
much hair she had but there was enough
of it to make a fellow feel as If ii did
not matter a rap if half the earth was
bald II was not red, nor yellow; it was
Ike honey kissed by sunshine. She had
the sort of forehead which one never sees
on the face Of a fool-Nature's signboard
for an empo ium for br lins. Her eyes were
large, brown, and fearless. not bold, nor
yet wave1ing. Her mouth was perfect. not
one of those sepulchres which disfgure
some feminine faces, not childishly small
like a bud bursting into bloom, but
strong, true mouth large enough for
prayer to slip through, but not Big enough
to swear with. Her waist would just
about fill the crook of a strong mans
arm. and make h m feel that there was
no room for anything else under heaven.
The arch of her bust was like the curve
on wave as it breaks on the beach in
tine bay net the stiff lath and plaster
models one is ant to see walking round
the streets of cities. Her hands were
shapely, brown. and strong cracked a lit
tie by wind and weather; not toy hands.
hut hands that could spank a baby. or
help a husband back to paths of recti-
tude when al the world had damned him
past redemption.
Lesson in Dutch.
So she looked when I saw her, and
said un,o my soul: Verify, it is a good
thing for a man to know something of
his enemies language, and / made up my
mind to learn 1t was the fifth evening
after that. and had registered my fifth
visit to the farm. when an event befell
which put an end to my studies in Dutch
for The time beng ! had dined with the
farmer the plain sisters had made music
for me. they had lifted up their voices
in song also, for I was an honored guess.
having been enabled to do some little deed
of kindness through the favor of our
courteous general to a re alive of the la
dies who was prisoner in our lines They
had given me blankets and rugs or the
poor beggar, and the general had handed
them 10 the man. The night was beau
tiful one so. lighting a cigar, | rambled
down toward the quarter m'le-long ave-
nue. Of orange trees. 1t was to be my last
visit. for our troops were on the move
at dawn. As sauntered forward I heard
the rustic of a woman's skirts amid the
bushes on my right and looking in that
direction ] saw the navy-blue dress and
hat ~ he dx ubn