“Some time after he met me in the street:  ’Well, Moffat, what have you determined upon?’ ‘I am waiting the return of Dr. Philip.’  ’Don’t wait for anybody; just jump on board a ship.  Think of the importance of getting the New Testament put in print in a new language!’ He invited me to dinner again and said, ’Have you come to a conclusion?  I wish I could give you mine.  I feel some interest in the extension of the knowledge of the Word of God.  Take nobody’s advice, but jump on board a ship for England.’  He spoke so seriously that I began to feel serious myself.

[Illustration:  MARY MOFFAT.]

“Dr. Philip came, and when the Governor explained the circumstances, the Doctor said, ‘Go, by all means.’  I was nervous at the thought.  I was not a nervous man in Africa.  I could sleep and hear the lions roar.  There seemed so many great folks to meet with.  I came to England and by-and-by I got over it.”

On the Wednesday, following this meeting, he was entertained at a public breakfast at the Cannon Street Hotel.

For a few weeks the Moffats dwelt at Canonbury, though Robert himself was so much engaged in visiting different parts of the country, Edinburgh included, where he met with many old friends, that he was not suffered at this time to dwell for long in any one place.

The winter was spent at Brixton, and on the 21st of December, L1000 was presented to Robert Moffat as a birthday gift, a most cheering tribute of esteem to a tried and faithful servant of Jesus Christ.

The effects of this act of kindness had not passed away when a heavy cloud hung over the happy home at Brixton.  She, who for more than half-a-century had been the loving helpmeet of the African missionary, sharing his joys and sorrows, his hopes and discouragements, and many of his privations and perils, lay dying.  A troublesome cough, a difficulty of breathing, a few long deep breaths, and she was gone, without even a word of farewell; called home to receive the “Well done, good and faithful servant,” and to enter into the joy of her Lord.  Her last words were a prayer for her husband, that strength might be given him to bear the blow.

Robert Moffat indeed needed strength in this hour of affliction.  His first exclamation on finding that she had really gone was, “For fifty-three years I have had her to pray for me,” and writing to his old friend and fellow-labourer, Roger Edwards, who was then at Port Elizabeth, he said, “How lonely I feel, and if it were not for Jeanie (his daughter) it would be much more so.”

The events of the next few years may be briefly summarised.  He travelled much to different parts of the country, visiting High Leigh, the old house at Dukinfield, and Carronshore.  His services were continually in requisition for missionary meetings, and doubtless many of our readers will be old enough to remember the bronzed face, with its full flowing beard, blanched by age, the keen eyes, and the venerable form of Robert Moffat at this time, and to call to mind the pleasure they derived as they listened to his glowing descriptions of the needs of Africa.