'Will you please make an exception in my favour and allow me to see my husband? I am ill, and must return to my home in Johannesburg at once.' 'What does she say?' roared the Landdrost, who for some reason was in a furious temper. He turned to a Boer in the room. 'Tell her she may whine as much as she pleases, she can't see her husband on Saturday. _Nobody_ can go in the prison on Saturday. If she wants to see her husband she must wait until next Monday!' The man turned fiercely towards me, but seeing my patient face, or perhaps for the sake of some Boer woman on a distant farm, his voice broke, and became quite gentle as he delivered the message. With one exception this was the only time I ever received harsh treatment from a Boer official. Of course I sometimes met with a _strictness of manner_ which was to be expected, and which I was quite prepared to submit to. Brutal unkindness I never experienced but twice. Reaching the jail, whither I had directed the cabman to drive me, I found Advocate Sauer and Mr. Du Plessis standing at the gate. They almost dropped at sight of my face. Dignity had deserted me. I was actually howling in my distress, 'Please, _please_ let me in to my husband!' Du Plessis, rough and violent as he was to most people, was always kind to me. He opened the wicket and pushed me gently through. That was his answer. My sudden entrance, a ball of a woman with the tears dripping down on to her breast, surprised the warders. They regarded me with stricken faces. One at last rallied. With his eyes still fastened upon me, he called, 'Mister H-a-m-mond, Mister H-a-m-mond, your missis is here!' and my husband came rapidly across the yard. I went home to my bed. Dr. Murray came in charge. 'Poor little woman! There is nothing to prescribe but oblivion in a case like this.' He ordered narcotics. Two weeks later I was told that I had been dangerously ill. In that darkened room I had suspected my jeopardy. Surely there is a special place in heaven for mothers who die unwillingly. From distant parts of the world kind letters came to me--and from Johannesburg messages, sweet, with full-hearted sympathy--many of these from people whom I had never seen, nor ever shall in this life. I found friends in the days of my trouble, as precious as rare jewels, whom I shall wear on my heart until it stops its beating. The Government most generously allowed my husband to come to my bedside. He was accompanied by the chief jailer, Du Plessis. He wore some violets in his buttonhole, I remember, which the jailer's child had given him. Mr. Du Plessis asked to see me. He had news to tell me which would cheer me up, he said. Brought to my bedside, all he could say, and he said it over and over again in his embarrassment, was: 'Don't be unhappy; your husband won't be many years in prison.'