To his daughter Agnes he writes, after the account of her death:  “...  Dear Nannie, she often thought of you, and when once, from the violence of the disease, she was delirious, she called out, ’See!  Agnes is falling down a precipice,’ May our Heavenly Saviour, who must be your Father and Guide, preserve you from falling into the gulf of sin over the precipice of temptation....  Dear Agnes, I feel alone in the world now, and what will the poor dear baby do without her mamma?  She often spoke of her, and sometimes burst into a flood of tears, just as I now do in taking up and arranging the things left by my beloved partner of eighteen years....  I bow to the Divine hand that chastens me.  God grant that I may learn the lesson He means to teach!  All she told you to do she now enforces, as if beckoning from heaven.  Nannie, dear, meet her there.  Don’t lose the crown of joy she now wears, and the Lord be gracious to you in all things.  You will now need to act more and more from a feeling of responsibility to Jesus, seeing He has taken away one of your guardians.  A right straightforward woman was she.  No crooked way ever hers, and she could act with decision and energy when required.  I pity you on receiving this, but it is the Lord.—­Your sorrowing and lonely father.”

Letters of the like tenor were written to every intimate friend.  It was a relief to his heart to pour itself out in praise of her who was gone, and in some cases, when he had told all about the death, he returns to speak of her life.  A letter to Sir Roderick Murchison gives all the particulars of the illness and its termination.  Then he thinks of the good and gentle Lady Murchison,—­“la spirituelle Lady Murchison,” as Humboldt called her,—­and writes to her:  “It will somewhat ease my aching heart to tell you about my dear departed Mary Moffat, the faithful companion of eighteen years.”  He tells of her birth at Griqua Town in 1821, her education in England, their marriage and their love.  “At Kolobeng, she managed all the household affairs by native servants of her own training, made bread, butter, and all the clothes of the family; taught her children most carefully; kept also an infant and sewing school—­by far the most popular and best attended we had.  It was a fine sight to see her day by day walking a quarter of a mile to the town, no matter how broiling hot the sun, to impart instruction to the heathen Bakwains.  Ma-Robert’s name is known through all that country, and 1800 miles beyond....  A brave, good woman was she.  All my hopes of giving her one day a quiet home, for which we both had many a sore longing, are now dashed to the ground.  She is, I trust, through divine mercy, in peace in the home of the blest....  She spoke feelingly of your kindness to her, and also of the kind reception she received from Miss Burdett Coutts.  Please give that lady and Mrs. Brown the sad intelligence of her death.”