You be here," shouted the Dutchwoman, "when the morning star rises, and I will let my Kaffers take you out and drag you, till there is not one bone left in your old body that is not broken as fine as bobootie-meat, you old beggar! All your rags are not worth that--they should be thrown out onto the ash-heap," cried the Boer-woman; "but I will have them for my sheep.

Not one rotten hoof of your old mare do you take with you; I will have her--all, all for my sheep that you have lost, you godless thing!" The Boer-woman wiped the moisture from her mouth with the palm of her hand.
The German turned to Bonaparte, who still stood on the step absorbed in the beauty of the sunset.
"Do not address me; do not approach me, lost man," said Bonaparte, not moving his eye nor lowering his chin.

"There is a crime from which all nature revolts; there is a crime whose name is loathsome to the human ear--that crime is yours; that crime is ingratitude.

This woman has been your benefactress; on her farm you have lived; after her sheep you have looked; into her house you have been allowed to enter and hold Divine service--an honour of which you were never worthy; and how have you rewarded her ?--basely, basely, basely!" "But it is all false, lies and falsehoods.

I must, I will speak," said the German, suddenly looking round bewildered.