The Moffats

L^'vuiioa

BV 3555 .M7 H8
Hubbard, Ethel Daniels
The Moffats

ROKERT AXU MARY MOFFAT, TWO

CHRISTIAN PILGRIMS WHO. AT THE

THRESHOLD OF LIFE, RISKED

ALL TO CARRY THROUGH

THE UATROD PATHS

OF AFRICA THE

GOSPEL OF A

LOVING

GOD

Photos. London Missionary Society

THE MOFFATS

BY

ETHEL DANIELS HUBBARD

ILLUSTRATIONS

BY

JESSIE GILLESPIE

NEW YORK

Missionary Education Movement of the
United States and Canada

1917

COPTBIGHT, 1917, BT

MISSIONABT EDUCATION MOVEMENT OF THE

UNITED STATES AND CANADA

TO MY MOTHER
AND MY AUNT

This Book
Is Affectionatelt Inscbibbd

NOTE

The author desires to acknowledge her indebted-
ness to various sources of material. Seven of the
half-tone illustrations are used by permission of
the London Missionary Society ; the other through
the kindness of the Board of Foreign Missions of
the Methodist Episcopal Church, Two books
which have furnished valuable assistance are The
Lives of Robert and Mary Moffat, by John S. Mof-
fat, their son, and Missionary Labors and Scenes
in Southern Africa, by Robert Moffat himself.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER
I

Robert and Mary ....

PAGE
11

II

A Young Man 's Problem .

19

III

''Fare Thee Weel" ....

31

IV

The Kraal of Afrikaner the Out-
law

47

V

''Two Strong Men Stand Face to
Face"

67

VI

The Gipsy Life of an African
Traveler

79

VII

The Victory of Love ....

99

VIII

A Honeymoon in an Ox-caet .

117

IX

The Wait-a-bit Thorn

135

X

Black Bugbears

151

XI

" The White Man 's Burden " .

167

XII

The War Cry of the Mantatees .

181

XIII

The Wife's Part ....

197

XIV

The Dream Come True .

215

XV

"The Smoke of a Thousand Vil-
lages"

239

XVI

The Almond-tree of Kuruman

259

XVII

The Reveille

277

ILLUSTRATIONS

PAQE

Robert and Mary Moffat at the Threshold of Life (Half-
tone) Frontispiece

" Robert and Mary Had Talked It All Over for the Last

Time" 12

" He . . . Came to a Sudden Halt Before a Poster Which

Hung by the Roadside " 20

" For Her, That Autumn Was Gray with Loneliness " 32

" The Man Most Talked About and Most Feared in All

Africa" 48

" With a Feeling of Utter Desolation, Robert Watched the

Ox-wagon Disappear in the Desert " 68

" Afrikaner Smiled Appreciatively at the Words Which He

Caught" 80

" She Sat Down and Wrote a Letter to Robert's Parents " 100
Map of South Africa, Showing Places Mentioned in The

Moffats 118

"At All Hours of the Day Their Hut Was Invaded by

Inquisitive Visitors " 136

"The Smoke of a Thousand Villages" (Half-tone) . .148

Within a Bechuana Kraal (Half-tone) 148

" There on the Floor Sat His Wife, Shaking a Milk-Sack " 152
" Little Mary Moffat . . . Hand in Hand with Dicky . . .

Her Playmate " 168

"Waterboer, the Griqua Chief" 182

" Real Little Bushmen, Straight from the Wilds " . . 198

Trekking in South Africa (Half-tone) 212

Kuruman in Winter (Half-tone) 212

" Women and Girls . . . Gathered Around Mrs. Moflfat to

Learn the Use of the Needle " 216

" He Was Spirited Awav to Audience Halls to Address Great

Throngs of People" 240

"There . . . Mary Pledged Him Her Love and Loyalty

While Life Should Last " 260

" Through All the Memories of the Past . . . Robert Moffat

Dreamed Anew the Future of His Adopted Country " . 278
Robert and Mary Moffat in the Evening of Life (Half-tone) 284

CHAPTER I
ROBERT AND MARY

How sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk,

How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade

I clasped her to my bosom !
The golden hours on angel wings

Flew o'er me and my dearie,
For dear to me aj light and life

Was my sweet Highland Mary.

— Robert Burns

" BOBEBT ^Bl^

AND

MABY mr^

HAD

TALKED tt^

IT ALL Jiiii^

OVEB

FOB l^^HI

THE

LAST ^^^A

TIME

HH

7^,

I

ROBERT AND MARY

SUMMER evening in the north of
England cast its phantom light upon
the fields and the garden and the old
stone house at the end of the lane.
The fragrance of roses drifted through
the air and mingled subtly with the
bitter-sweet thoughts of the girl who sat alone
by her chamber mndow. A few minutes before
she had come indoors and taken refuge in her
room, knowing that only solitude and the stillness
of night could smooth the tangle of the day's
experience.

Almost mechanically she said over again the
words she had spoken with such sad confidence
earlier in the evening when Robert was by her
side, his very presence giving her courage. * ' Im-
pelled by feelings I cannot master, held back by
ties I dare not break." Out there in the shadowy
lane between the hedgerows and the hawthorn
trees, Robert and Mary had talked it all over for
the last time, only to reach the same unwelcome

13

THE MOFFAT S

conclusion they had reached before — he must go
and she must stay. The difficulty of the situation
was more bearable when he was there to *' share
it a' " and point out the one gleam of hope for
the future. Alone, her heart quailed before the
thought of what she must endure. If only Rob-
ert were like other men, content to settle in
England to a worthy work, driven by no heart-
breaking determination to leave home and coun-
try and go to the ends of the earth! How easy
then would be her lot, not unlike that of other
women; how plain her duty, for her father did
not oppose her marrying Robert because he was
a gardener in his service, but solely because he
was possessed by this terrible resolve to spend
his life in some wild, heathen country from which
he would probably never return!

But that vagrant thought did not linger in the
girl's mind, for she knew full well that the very
reason she loved Robert with the whole strength
of her being was that a great purpose stood like
a fixed star over his life. She read that purpose
in his black eyes, which flashed forth the old
Covenanter spirit of his Scotch mother. She had
seen its outworkings every day during the half-
14

ROBERT AND 3IAR7

year he had lived at Dukinfield ; in the painstaking
way he grafted and pruned the young trees in her
father's garden; in the eagerness with which he
turned to his books when the day's work was
done, as if he had a goal to reach and there were
no time to lose; in the fervor with which he
played his violin winter evenings as they sat
around the blazing fire in the grate, played as if
life held a vision for him.

No, though she, Mary Smith, be left at home
desolate and heart-broken, she would never, never
stand between Robert Moffat and his purpose.
She would acquire a purpose for endurance to
match his for action. He must go and she must
stay — and God help them both! With a sob
catching her breath, she knelt and asked God to
make them able to drink the cup he had placed in
their trembling hands. And then, tired out with
the heart-searching experiences of the day, she
fell asleep.

Meanwhile, out between the hedgerows which
bounded the Manchester road, a young man
walked with dogged gait, as if force of will alone
held him to his course. He was tall and straight,
with an agile, firmly knit figure which told of an

15

THE MOFFAT S

outdoor life and athletic training. If the twi-
light had been bright enough to reveal his face,
one could have read a sensitive nature made
strong by an indomitable will. The determined
flash in his eyes showed that Robert Moffat would
do his duty, though it thwart his dearest desire.
'' There is no other way," he said wearily to him-
self, ** no other way for Mary or for me. God
has laid his claim upon us both, for me to go, for
her to stay, and we may not disobey. Some time
he may lay his claim upon Mary's parents, and
they will let her come to me in South Africa or
the South Sea Islands or wherever I may be, and

then ." But even as he said the words with

which they had comforted each other earlier in
the evening, a great wave of homesick longing
swept over him, and the future loomed drear
and forbidding. In imagination he pictured the
enormous distance he must go, the voyage of
three months, then the slow journey on foot or by
ox-cart into the interior, and his heart left back
in old England, up north in Cheshire, with blue-
eyed Mary of Dukinfield. Alas for Robert ! He
had little dreamed it would cost him so dear to
carry out this precious scheme of his, which had
16

ROBERT AND MART

come to him with all the force of a command from
heaven. He had foreseen that it would mean a
terrific wrench to tear himself away from the little
home group in Scotland, especially from his dark-
eyed, beautiful mother, who had always been a
mystery and an inspiration to him. But never
had he known or imagined — how could he? — the
cruel hurt of loving a girl with all his heart and
going away to leave her, perhaps forever.

The tall chimneys and spires of Manchester
loomed close at hand, and Robert Moffat strode
through the dingy outskirts, past the cottages of
the spinners and the weavers into the broader
streets of the city, turning finally into that quiet
side street where he had his lodging. The long
twilight was fading from the west, but scarcely
would it vanish wholly before the first signs of
dawn were glimmering in the east. Such is the
magic of these summer nights in the north.

A day or two hence Robert was to start on his
way to Scotland for that dreaded parting with
his father, mother, brothers, and sisters in the
stone cottage by the Firth of Forth. Then back
again to Manchester for the meetings which would
celebrate his departure to a foreign country,

17

THE MOFFATS

for one last walk over the familiar road to
Dukinfield to the girl who would be out among
the trees and the flowers awaiting his coming, an
agonizing farewell, then the journey south to
London, and finally the harbor and the ship and
— the shores of England no more !

18

CHAPTER II
A YOUNG MAN'S PROBLEM

I was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision.

— Saint Paul

" HE . . . CAME TO A SUDDEN HALT BE-

FOBE A POSTER WHICH HUNG BY

THE ROADSIDE."

II

A YOUNG MAN'S PROBLEM

HE bitter crisis which the young lovers
were compelled to face had its origin in
a chain of events beginning far back in
Robert Moffat's boyhood. In his cot-
tage home in Scotland there had come
to the small boy, all unknown to himself,
the first beckonings toward the high destiny of
his manhood; years later the shadowy summons
to the child became a clear call of duty to the
young man.

It was after Robert had left his home in Scot-
land and begun work as gardener on a large estate
at High Leigh, England, that one summer evening
he set out on foot for Warrington, about six miles
away, intending to make some purchases in the
shops. It was sunset time, and a peculiar hush
seemed to brood over field and town. Stirred by
the beauty of the hour and the scene, the young
man fell to dreaming of his future and the role
he would like to play in life. His thoughts dwelt
fondly upon a new position which had been offered

21

THE MOFFATS

him, upon its responsibility and importance and
the honor it implied to a lad of nineteen. His
fancy drew a sunny picture of the life he would
lead in the new environment, of the personal ad-
vantages it would yield him, as well as the oppor-
tunities for doing good. With a glow of satisfac-
tion at the prospect, he crossed the bridge which
led into Warrington and came to a sudden halt be-
fore a poster which hung by the roadside. Mas-
tered by a curiosity he could not explain, he read
the words once and again: "Missionary Meeting,
Guild Hall, Warrington, Thursday Evening, July
/ 25. Speaker, Reverend William Roby, of Man-
^ Chester." The date was past, the meeting over,
and the speaker already departed to his home.
What invisible hand wove the spell which held
Robert Moffat rooted to the spot, dead to all
around him?

By a quick process of association the words
awakened memories that had been for a long time
slumbering in the young man's mind. He was
back in the stone cottage at Carronshore, Scot-
land, a little boy sitting with his brothers and
sisters around the fireside while the north wind
whistled outside, rebelling at his stint of knitting
22

A YOUNG MAN'S PEOBLEM

or sewing, which he thought fit for girls only, but
listening intently while their mother read them
stories of the daring Moravian missionaries in
Greenland and Labrador. He was looking again
into his mother's strangely beautiful face, with its
interplay of severity and tenderness, gloom and
radiance. For a moment he caught again that
w^onderful smile, which iUumined her face as sun-
shine brightens a gray day in April. Then, all
at once, he understood why the placard, with its
notice of a bygone event, stirred such a commo-
tion in his mind. God was calling him, Robert
■^ Moffat, to the life of a missionary, exactly as he
had called the men and women of the Moravian
church years before.

From that night, one question, and one only,
haunted Robert's mind, forcibly expelling the old
dreams of the future, as well as the doubts and
perplexities of the year just past. From that
moment, as he afterwards said, he was '' another
man with another heart." How was he to be-
come a missionary? None of the great mission-
ary societies in London would accept him, he
thought to himself, because he had never been to
an academy or college. He took a hasty review

23

THE MOFFATS

of his school career and found it brief and frag-
mentary enough. Little or no systematic educa-
tion had fallen to his lot. First, there had been
the parish school, taught by '' Wully " Mitchell,
the stern taskmaster, who chastised his small
pupils because they floundered hopelessly in the
catechism, their first reading-lesson after their
a-b-c's. A few years later he had trudged by the
side of his older brother, Alexander, to Falkirk,
the next to^\m. There for six months he had
studied writing and bookkeeping in the regular
classes and picked up a little geography and
astronomy after hours by listening outside the
circle of older boys, when they took their extra
lesson for extra pay, and seeking explanation of
the knotty points from his brother as they walked
home. At fourteen he had been apprenticed to
learn the trade of gardener and had begun his
day's work at four o'clock, even on the dark, cold
mornings of a Scottish winter, when he had to rap
his knuckles against the handle of the spade to
bring feeling into them. Long hours and hard
work had not deterred him, however, from going
occasionally to evening school to study Latin and
24

A YOUNG MAN'S PROBLEM

from taking lessons at the anvil and on the violin
from a kind and versatile neighbor.

It was not his parents' fault that he had had so
few school advantages, but his own, for he had
wanted to be a man before his time and go to sea
as a sailor. With a friendly captain he took
several voyages in a trading vessel, but the
hairbreadth escapes along that dangerous coast
were too many for a boy of ten to relish, and he
returned to his father's house a ''sadder and
wiser" lad.

This reminiscence gave Robert the needed clue
to solve his enigma, how to become a missionary.
It was simple enough. He would again go to sea
as a sailor, cross the ocean to some foreign land,
and there teach the heathen people about Jesus
Christ, the Savior, to whom he had recently
yielded his passionate homage after months of
doubt and struggle.

When Robert Moffat had left his home in Scot-
land just before his eighteenth birthday, to take
his new position as gardener at High Leigh in
Cheshire, his mother walked with him to the
Firth of Forth, from which he was to go by ship
to England. It seemed like a long separation to

25

THE MOFFATS

the mother and her boy, for England and Scotland
were very far apart in those days. Excitement
and regret blazed in Robert's eyes as he looked
toward the shore and then into his mother 's seri-
ous face. '*Now, my Robert," said she, " let us
stand here for a few minutes, for I wish to ask
one favor of you before we part. I only ask
whether you will read a chapter in the Bible
every morning, and another every evening?"
** Mother," interrupted the boy rather indig-
nantly, ''you know I read my Bible." ''I know
you do," she replied, ''but you do not read it
regularly, or as a duty you owe to God, its author.
Now I shall return home with a happy heart, inas-
much as you have promised to read the Scriptures
daily. Oh, Robert, my son," and her eyes shone
with tears, "read much in the New Testament.
Read much in the Gospels, the blessed Gospels.
Then you cannot well go astray. If you pray, the
Lord himself will teach you." The passionate
enthusiasm which burned in her own life was soon
to catch fire in her son's life with an intensity of
which she little dreamed.

In the days that followed, Robert was tempted
to abjure that promise to his mother, since its
26

A YOUNG MAN'S PROBLEM

fulfilment brought him but little satisfaction at
first and sore uneasiness later on. As he
went about his work in the garden at High
Leigh, one question harassed him continually.
''What think ye of Christ? What think ye of
Christ?" Must he answer that question! Would
it give him no peace until he dealt with it fairly
and squarely? Perhaps he could dodge its at-
tacks if he should give up reading the Bible. At
the thought, his mother's face, with its dark,
pleading eyes, came vividly before him, and
he knew he could never break his promise to her,
whatever commotion it might cause in his mind.

One night he had a horrible dream. It seemed
as if his sins were piled up into a great mountain
and were tumbling down upon him. When he
awoke, shivering with terror, he fell on his knees
in prayer for the first time in many weeks. The
specter of his dream pursued him into the day-
light and dogged his steps wherever he went, but
there was no one to whom he could confide his
misery. When he tried to pray, a black cloud
seemed to come between himself and God.

Every evening he betook himself to his garden
lodge and there, in solitude undisturbed, read and

27

THE MOFFATS

reread the New Testament, even as his mother
had bidden him. As he read, meaning gradually
crept into the words which had hitherto seemed
so blank. *'Can it be possible that I have never
understood what I have been reading?" he ex-
claimed with a full heart. One passage and then
another shone out of the fog, until he could see
his way straight to Jesus Christ and could read
the friendly welcome upon his face. Then he had
all the light he needed to chase the bogies of fear
from his life forever.

AVith boyish enthusiasm he threw himself into
the work of the Wesleyan Methodists, whose
straightforward preaching had helped to "stab
his spirit broad awake." The Methodists were a
new sect, much misunderstood and maligned, and
Robert's connection with them brought him into
disfavor with his employers, Mr. and Mrs. Leigh.
Hitherto they had been uncommonly interested in
their young gardener, who had such quiet ways
and such determined black eyes. About this time
a flattering offer was made him to become factor,
steward, and gardener combined, with hundreds
of acres of farm land, a garden, and a number of
men under his charge. But one condition was
28

A YOUNG MAN'S PROBLEM

attached to the offer, — that he should give up the
Methodist meetings. Robert Moffat replied with
the spicy candor of a Scotchman, "I thank you
for your good intentions, but I would prefer my
God to white and yellow ore."

It was not long before another position was
proffered with no such conditions attached. Rob-
ert was looking forward to its acceptance, when,
near the bridge at Warrington, the whole meaning
of life was changed in a moment by a few printed
words on a poster by the roadside. Since that
memorable night there had been but one concern
in life for Robert Moffat. How should he find a
way into the lofty, adventurous career of a mis-
sionary? Would there be a place within its
charmed circle for a young Scotch gardener, with
no pretensions to learning, but ^'a man for a'
that"!

29

CHAPTER III
''FARE THEE WEEL"

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear
And the rocks melt wi' the sun!
And I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only love,
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my love,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!

— Eobert Burns

" FOE HEB,
THAT AUTUMN
WAS GRAY WITH
LONELINESS."

Ill

''FARE THEE WEEL"

,N the city of Manchester, not many
miles from High Leigh, there was to
be held a gathering of Wesleyan Meth-
odists which would last several days.
Being exactly in the mood for such an
event, Robert Moffat resolved to attend
-and persuaded Hamlet Clarke, his chum, to
accompany him. Accordingly, on an autumn day,
the two set forth along the road which led through
the green fields and the picturesque villages into
Manchester, the busiest city of northern England.
The usual cloud of black smoke hung low over the
city as they approached, betokening the presence
of the great cotton industries, but nothing there
was to betoken the presence that day of a young
Scotchman who would soon undertake an indus-
try more stupendous in its effect for all time than
the output of those great factories.

Not long after their arrival in town, a name, at
once familiar and mysterious, caught Robert's at-
tention. The Reverend William Roby ! The very

33

THE MOFFATS

name he had read on the poster by the Warring-
ton bridge that memorable evening not long be-
fore ! What would he be like, the unknown man
whose name had figured in the most crucial ex-
perience of Robert's life? To see and hear this
wonderful man would be like having your story-
book heroes step out of the pages where you had
kno^\Ti them and become flesh and blood before
your eyes. So it was with tense excitement that
Robert took his place in the meeting which Mr.
Roby was scheduled to address. The mysterious
personage soon appeared upon the platform, a
real man, dignified and grave, but with a sure
friendliness in his face. There was a true ring
in his voice as he spoke, and Robert sat quite still,
listening to his earnest words with a burning un-
rest in his heart.

That evening, as they returned to their lodg-
ings, a chance remark made Robert's black eyes
flash with interest. ''Mr. Roby," some one was
saying, **oh yes, he is a great missionary; he
often sends out young men to the heathen!'*
What was that? Sends out young men to the
heathen? As Robert Moifat went to his room, a
project was shaping in his mind, such a daring
34

" FARE THEE WEEL "

project that lie lay awake most of the night pray-
ing for courage to make the venture on the mor-
row. Though fearless in danger and immovable
when principle was at stake, Robert was by
nature intensely shy, and to carry through the
plan that he had made meant a severe ordeal. He
confided the scheme to Hamlet Clarke and asked
him to go with him, but Hamlet refused point-
blank, though he consented to go as far as the
door and wait outside.

The next morning two young men could have
been seen walking through the streets of Man-
chester, one with a worried look in his eyes and
a strangely preoccupied manner. The distance
they had to go was more than a mile, yet it hardly
sufficed to quiet the pounding of his heart. They
turned into the fatal street at last, and Robert
loitered intentionally, yet the dreaded number
came nearer and nearer. "Would it be cowardly
to turn and run away? He stood at the very
door, but, even as his hand reached for the
knocker, his nerve failed, and he rushed inglori-
ously to the street and to his friend waiting near
by. A second time he marched up to the door,
but scarcely had he set foot upon the first step

35

THE MOFFAT S

when the audacity of the undertaking came over
him, and he fled again. To gather courage he
walked up and down a few minutes, and then
strode resolutely to the door and knocked. No
sooner was the deed done than he would have
given a thousand pounds, had he possessed them,
to recall the act. He hoped, oh, how he hoped,
that Mr. Eoby would not be at home, and never
again would he be trapped into such presumption.
At that moment a maid opened the door, and
Robert asked in a faltering voice, "Is Mr. Roby
within?" '*Yes," was the reply, and he was
shown into the parlor.

A few moments of suspense passed. Then a
step was heard in the hall, and the man whom he
both dreaded and longed to see entered the room.
Not so formidable was he, after all, — just a frank,
friendly man with a cordial grip of the hand.
Robert Moffat's tale was simply told, and Mr.
Roby listened with a sympathetic smile, asking
a few questions now and then to encourage him
to tell of his experience in becoming a Christian,
and of his purpose to ''help in the missionary
cause," as he modestly phrased it. He carefully
avoided mention of the fact that it was Mr. Roby's
36

''FARE THEE WEEL"

name on the poster which had led him to his house.
The outcome was that Mr. Roby offered to write
to the ''directors of the society," as he called
them, to see if they would accept Robert as a mis-
sionary. He would report their reply as soon as
he received it.

It was several weeks before the expected letter
reached High Leigh, where Robert Moffat had
been watching daily for its coming with a boy's
intolerance of delay. He tore the envelope open,
and read :

November 27, 1815.
Dear Sir:

I have been anxiously waiting for an answer to the letter
which I wrote to the directors of the Missionary Society
respecting you and did not receive it till this morning. It in-
forms me that at present they have so many applications they
cannot receive all who offer their services for missionary work,
and are therefore obliged to select those who possess the most
promising acquirements. On this account they are under the
necessity of declining your offer at present.

What a blow to the high hopes he had cherished
during those weeks of waiting ! Why had he not
known that it would end this way, when he had so
little education to give him favor in their eyes?

37

THE 31 OFF ATS

''Obliged to select those who possess the most
promising acquirements!" What could he do to
attain those "promising acquirements"? Would
Mr. Roby consider his case lost or would he try
some other way? He read on:

" Nevertheless, will you not come to Manchester and let
me place you in a situation near by, that I may examine
you as to your fitness for missionary work? "

"Not knowing whither he went," so far as his
future was concerned, Robert Moffat went out
from the garden lodge at High Leigh and jour-
neyed again over the road to Manchester to en-
trust his prospects to the hands of a man he had
seen only twice, but in whom he felt a sure confi-
dence, nevertheless. When he reached the city,
Mr. Roby took him to one and another of his
acquaintances, seeking a position in a bank, mer-
cantile house, or garden, but nowhere was an
opening to be found. When it seemed as if the
quest were ended, Mr. Roby turned to his com-
panion with the remark, "I have still one friend
who employs many men, to whom I can apply, pro-
vided you are willing to go into a nursery gar-
den."
38

''FARE THEE WEEL"

''Go?" replied Robert. ''I would go anywhere
and do anything for which I may have ability. ' '

By a strange coincidence, which made it seem
afterwards as if an unseen Power were directing
the course of the young Scotchman, Mr. James
Smith of Dukinfield was in the city that day and
readily consented to give him employment in his
nursery garden. James Smith was himself a
Scotchman who had come to England many years
before and established a prosperous business in
the suburbs of Manchester. It was agreed that
Robert should start to work at the beginning of
the new year, and Mr. Smith drove home that
night with a sense of satisfaction that he had
found so promising a workman, but with a curious
feeling of uneasiness when he thought of the
comely young Scotchman with his great ambition,
and then of his own blue-eyed Mary, the pride of
his heart and the idol of his home. '*We are safe
for the present," said he to himself with a whim-
sical smile, ''for the missionary society has re-
fused him." Thus saying, he turned into the lane
and saw the gleam of the lamp that Mary had
lighted for his home-coming.

By the series of events narrated, Robert Moffat

39

THE MOFFATS

had been led from the cottage at Carronshore to
the stone house at Dukinfield, there to meet the
supreme test of his love and loyalty. It was deep
winter, with its frosts and snows and "cauld
blasts," when first he came to that hospitable
home whose friendly fireside welcomed many an
interesting- guest from near and far. Though
Mr. Smith was a staunch non-conformist and his
wife belonged to the Church of England, they
were united in sincere devotion to the cause of
Christ and opened their home freely to preachers
and missionaries who came to the neighborhood.
Their only daughter, Mary, was a girl of radiant
energy, whose strong personality deeply influ-
enced the social life of her home and community.
She had an ease of manner and a readiness of
speech which sometimes disconcerted the bashful
young Scotchman, who was glad, nevertheless, to
seek her society whenever occasion permitted.

Mary Smith had spent her school-days in the
little town of Fairfield, where the Moravians had
built up an interesting settlement with a chapel
and school at its heart. Thus, by a curious coin-
cidence, Robert and Mary had been brought under
the same potent influence, the one by the fireside
40

''FARE THEE WEEL

stories of his childhood, the other by her girlhood
association with a people whose ideals have been
such a dynamic in the history of the Christian
church. In both cases the contact was determi-
native of their futures. At the Moravian School
Mary Smith had come to think no career on earth
quite so desirable as that of a missionary. So
firmly did this idea fasten itself upon her mind,
that subsequently, at a meeting in Manchester,
she whispered a prayer that God would send her
as a missionary, perhaps to South Africa, if he so
willed it. In like manner, Robert Moffat's pur-
pose had its origin in the tales of the Moravian
heroes which his mother loved to tell.

By the time the daffodils began to bloom in the
fields and the scent of spring was in the air, life
was becoming perilously sweet for the two young
people at Dukinfield nursery. Across the hearth
where the fire still burned brightly those cool
spring evenings, the young man glanced furtively
toward the girl, who sat by her work-table, her
fingers flying nimbly over her work, her eyes
sparkling with vivacity as she talked of this
theme and that. Soon there followed that magic
period of blossom and fragrance, quaintly called

41

THE MOFFATS

the lilac tide, when, hand in hand, Robert and
Mary strolled in the garden and in the wood back
of the nursery, talking with unending interest of
those years in the life of each when the other was
yet a stranger and touching reverently upon their
future, which as yet lay unrevealed. Upon the
glory of that springtime, summer cast a disquiet-
ing shadow.

One day there arrived at Dukinfield a message
of startling import. Robert Moffat had been ac-
cepted by the London Missionary Society and was
instructed to make ready for sailing within a few
months for a country which should be designated
after he came down to London. Mr. Roby had
persuaded the directors to accept his '^bonnie
laddie," as he called him, who might not possess
a college degree, but who had within him the stuff
out of which missionary heroes are made.

The great dream of Robert's life had come true,
but oh, what a storm of conflict its realization
brought! He wished to take Mary Smith with
him as his beloved bride, and she said it would be
''worth a thousand lives " to go, but with one ac-
cord her father and mother declared she should
never go with their consent. She was too frail
42

''FARE THEE WEEL"

to endure the rigorous life of a pioneer, ' ' the diet
hard and the blanket on the ground." Moreover,
how could two lonely people face old age with
their only daughter *'ten thousand mile" away
in an inaccessible wilderness? There were the
three boys, to be sure, but what son could take
the place of a daughter like Mary? In those days
it was like saying a lifelong farewell to go as a
missionary, for few went and fewer returned.
Yet Robert must go and Mary must stay, and God
alone could nerve them for the sacrifice.

With a heavy but resolute heart Robert left
Dukinfield to lodge in Manchester near Mr. Roby,
who was giving him final instructions before he
should go down to London to receive his appoint-
ment from the missionary society. On September
13, 1816, having said the last good-bys up in the
little cottage in Scotland and, hardest of all, in
the dear old house at Dukinfield, he took the coach
which bore him away from the associations he
loved best in life, down over the long road which
led at last to London. ' ' Oh, that I had a thousand
lives and a thousand bodies!" wrote Robert Mof-
fat to his parents after visiting the London mu-
seum, where the idols worshiped in China, Africa,

43

THE MOFFAT S

and the South Seas were exhibited. "All of them
should be devoted to no other employment but to
preach Christ to those degraded, despised, yet
beloved mortals. I have not repented in becom-
ing a missionary, and, should I die in the march
and never enter the field of battle, all would be
well."

On the last day of September a farewell service
was held in Surrey Chapel for the nine young
men who were to be dedicated to the unfinished
task which Jesus Christ began. It had been pro-
posed that John AVilliams and Robert Moffat
should be sent to Polynesia, but a Scotch minister
interposed, saying, "Thae twa lads are ower
young to gang thegither." Thus John Williams
went to the South Seas, to become in later years
the first martyr of Erromanga, and Robert Mof-
fat— we shall see what befell him and what he
achieved in the mysterious regions of South
Africa.

It was the middle of October before the little
party of missionaries embarked at Gravesend on
the ship Alacrity, a name which became a mockery
before the tedious voyage of eighty-six days was
over. In the Downs the pilot-boat turned back,
44

"FARE THEE WEEL"

bringing those last precious letters from the out-
bound ship up to a little family group in Scotland
and to a brave-hearted girl at the Dukinfield
nursery. For her, that autumn was gray with
loneliness and poignant with the sting of associa-
tions which the old familiar places forever sug-
gested. Every spot was memory-haunted, the
lane, the fireside, and the garden walks. Those
empty places where Robert was wont to be, how
they brought the dull ache to her heart and the
quiver to her lips! In God's infinite compassion
would he some time bring together, across the
widening distance, two young lives which belonged
side by side?

45

CHAPTER IV

THE KEAAL OF AFRIKANER
THE OUTLAW

The tumult and the shouting dies;
The captains and the kings depart;
Still stands thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget — lest we forget!

— Budyard Kipling,

"the man

MOST

TALKED

ABOUT

AND MOST

FEARED

TN ALL

AFRICA."

IV

THE KEAAL OF AFRIKANER
THE OUTLAW

UT the servants, where are the ser-
vants 1 ' ' inquired a firm young voice.

''Servants? What do you mean?"
was the gruff reply.

*'I mean the Hottentots, of whom I
see so many on your farm."
''Hottentots!" cried the farmer with a sneer.
"Do you mean that, then? Let me go to the
mountains and call the baboons, if you want a
congregation of that sort. Or stop, I have it;
my sons, call the dogs that lie in front of the
door; they will do."

Supper was over in the comfortable Boer home-
stead in South Africa, where Robert Moffat was
stopping for a night's hospitality on his way from
the coast to the interior. The farmer, upon hear-
ing that he was a missionary, had proposed that
he hold a service for the family at the close of the
evening meal. The big Bible and psalm-book had
just been produced when he electrified the com-

49

THE MOFFATS

pany by asking for the Hottentot slaves. Seeing
that his request was unpopular, Robert ceased to
press it and quietly began the service. After the
psalm had been sung, he led in prayer and then
opened his Bible to the story of the Syrophenician
woman and read. His voice was clear and vibrant
as he came to the words, ''Yea, Lord, for even the
dogs eat of the crumbs that fall from their mas-
ter's table." He went on to speak, but presently
the voice of the old man, his host, interrupted : " If
Mynheer will sit down and wait a little, he shall
have the Hottentots." The order was given, and
the strange brown figures came trooping in, half
dazed at the novel experience of being inside their
master's house and listening to a religious ser-
vice. After his arrival in Cape Town in January,
Robert Moffat had been detained several months
awaiting permission from the government to
locate beyond the boundaries of Cape Colony.
During this time he had lived in the family of a
Dutch farmer and learned to speak the language,
an acquisition which served him well in situations
like the present. When the service was over and
the Hottentots had scattered to their quarters, the
farmer turned to his guest and said, ''My friend,
50

THE KRAAL OF AFRIKANER THE OUTLAW

you took a hard hammer, and you have broken a
hard head."

On the morrow Kobert resumed his journey,
which had begun in Cape Town and was to termi-
nate in the sandy, sunburnt wilderness north of the
Orange Eiver in the kraal, or village, of Afrikaner,
the outlaw. As he approached the borders of Cape
Colony, signs of habitation decreased, the Boer
homesteads became fewer and farther apart, and
the great isolation beyond the frontier of British
rule cast its shadow before. Whenever he stopped
for a night's rest at the lonely Dutch farmhouses,
he listened to grisly descriptions of the fate he
was sure to meet at the hands of that desperado,
Afrikaner.

''He will set you up for a mark for his boys
to shoot at," declared one farmer with sinister
emphasis.

' ' He will strip off your skin and make a drum of
it to dance to," said another.

"He will make a drinking cup of your skull,"
predicted a third.

"Had you been an old man, it would have been
nothing," bewailed a motherly dame, wiping the
tears from her eyes, "for you would soon have

51

TEE MOFFAT S

died, whether or no ; but you are young and going
to be a prey to that monster."

Robert Moffat listened to these gruesome pre-
dictions with a whimsical smile upon his lips, but
with some misgiving in his heart, nevertheless.

Now this Afrikaner was a notorious outlaw, as
desperate and high-handed as were the Doones of
England or Black Roderick of Scotland. His very
name was a bogy to women and children and a
living terror to strong men. In every village
there was a ' ' trembling lest he should pay them a
visit."

There had been a time, in the changing history
of South Africa, when the proud Afrikaner family
roamed at will over their native hills and plains
within one hundred miles of Cape Town. The
flocks and the game were theirs, the pastures and
streams were their undisputed possession, and
their wild songs mingled with the winds which
swept over Witsemberg and Winterhoek moun-
tains, once the strongholds of their clan. But the
white man had already obtained a footing in the
country, and the old story of usurpation and ex-
termination had begun. In 1652, Dutch settlers,
expelled from South America, landed in South
52

THE KRAAL OF AFRIKANER THE OUTLAW

Africa and founded Cape Town. As their num-
bers increased, they encroached upon the domains
of the native tribes, sometimes seizing whole dis-
tricts and forcing the poor Hottentots into flight
toward the wilderness, or else into slavery on the
Dutch plantations. Jager Afrikaner, the eldest
son, who had succeeded to the chieftainship, be-
came, with his depleted clan, the vassals of a
Dutch farmer who knew neither sense nor mercy
in dealing with his high-spirited victims. Insult
and cruelty were heaped upon them, until, pro-
voked beyond endurance, they rebelled, murdered
the farmer, and escaped, with the remnant of their
tribe, to the banks of the Orange River, where they
defied approach.

From that day Afrikaner became the menace
not only of the colony on the south, but also of
the native tribes on the north. A price was put
upon his head by the Cape government. Com-
mandos were sent out for his capture, but he
shrewdly resisted them all. A chief in Great
Namaqualand ceded his dominion to Afrikaner, so
that he ruled by right as well as conquest. In-
born sagacity directed his tactics of warfare,
which were almost invariably successful, though

53

TEE MO F FATS

the odds were ten to one. On one occasion, a hos-
tile chief, bribed by the Dutch farmers to trap
Afrikaner, carried off every ox and cow belonging
to him, leaving only a few calves in the stall.
Afrikaner coolly plotted a swift and thorough re-
venge. He met his enemy in battle and for a
whole day fought doggedly with the larger army,
recovering his cattle once and again, only to lose
them as often. Toward night he led his small
band of followers back to their kraal, where they
killed the remaining calves and rested two days
while the flesh was drying in the sun. Having
thus secured their provisions, they set forth, stole
warily along the northern bank of the Orange
River, located the enemy on the opposite shore by
means of spies, and proceeded to a point beyond
their encampment. In the dead of night they
swam across stream, clothes and ammunition tied
on their heads, guns on their shoulders. By this
stratagem they came upon the enemy from an un-
expected direction, flung stones upon their huts
to rouse them from sleep, shot swift arrows upon
them as they came tumbling out, and before the
startled warriors could recover their senses, fired
such a volley of musketry upon them that they
54

THE KRAAL OF AFRIKANER THE OUTLAW

believed themselves attacked by an armed host and
fled in confusion, leaving the stolen cattle, and
their own as well, in Afrikaner's possession.

Titus Afrikaner, a younger brother, surpassed
even the chief himself in fearlessness and
ferocity. In the middle of the night he would take
his gun, plunge into a deep pool in the river, swim
to a rock just above the water, and there sit await-
ing the approach of a hippopotamus, which he
would shoot at the precise moment that the
creature opened his great jaws to swallow him.
He would smile deliberately when a lion lay dead
at his feet. Once only did he admit the entrance
of anything resembling fear into his life. For
hours he had been struggling to wrest a herd of
cattle from the possession of his enemy. The
cattle themselves, together with the bushes,
formed a screen which hid the two combatants
from each other. Suddenly a movement among
the herd made an oi>ening through which each
man saw his foe. Rifles were leveled, and fingers
pressed the triggers. Just then a cow walked in
between the fighters and two balls lodged simul-
taneously in her body, killing her instantly. Had
it not been for this uncanny interposition, both

55

THE M OFF ATS

men would have been killed, for they were deadly
marksmen. In after years Robert Moffat alluded
to this incident, which he had heard from both
parties, and spoke of the direct way God had in-
tervened to save the two lives. Titus Afrikaner
replied, ** Mynheer knows how to use the only
hammer which can make my hard heart feel."

Such was the dreaded tribe of Afrikaner, to
whose kraal the directors of the London Mission-
ary Society were sending their new missionary,
Robert Moffat. The dread was mitigated in his
case, however, because he believed, as the Dutch
farmers did not, the almost incredible story of
Afrikaner's conversion to the Christian religion.
In 1806 English missionaries had crossed the
Orange River and settled at a place perilously
near the kraal of Afrikaner, the outlaw. Not
long after their arrival, they were astounded to
see the chief himself approaching and to hear his
frank greeting, **As you are sent by the English,
I welcome you to the country; for, though I hate
the Dutch, my former oppressors, I love the Eng-
lish, for I have always heard that they are the
friends of the poor black man."

From the first, Afrikaner seemed to be im-
56

THE KRAAL OF AFRIKANER THE OUTLAW

pressed with the sincerity of the two Albrecht
brothers, the pioneer missionaries in this region.
He sent his children to them for instruction, and,
when he heard they were planning to remove to
another locality, he sent repeated messages and
finally came in person to beg them not to go away.
On several occasions Afrikaner and his tribesmen
were attentive listeners while the missionaries, in
broken Dutch, tried to explain the simplest mean-
ings of the religion of Jesus Christ. Friendly re-
lations were growing steadily, when the tribes liv-
ing at the station of Warmbad became frightened
and jealous and forced Afrikaner to withdraw to
his own kraal. Subsequently misunderstandings
and quarrels sprang up among the tribes. Afri-
kaner returned to his old career of pillage and
bloodshed, while the missionaries lived in hourly
terror of his attack, hiding for a week in a hole
dug in the ground, covered by the tilt-sail of the
wagon as shield from the burning sun. In the
end they were compelled to flee for safety, while
Afrikaner and his men plundered and burned the
mission property and, in the midst of their rav-
ages, met with the weirdest adventure which ever
befell an African savage on the war-path. An

57

THE MOFFATS

attendant of the chief had wandered into the tiny
burying-ground. Stepping over a mound which
seemed to be a newly covered grave, he stood still
in horror, for from the depths of the earth beneath
his feet came forth tones of music clear and un-
mistakable. Were the dead preparing to rise
from the grave, as the missionaries had said they
would? Not waiting for the apparition to appear
he ran swiftly to the camp of Afrikaner, his chief.
Now Afrikaner had no fear of living or dead, so
he summoned his followers and sped to the spot.
One and another jumped upon the mound, and
louder and clearer sounded the sepulchral music.
They took their spades, uncovered the earth, and
there in the dry soil, where, but for this rude dis-
turbance, it might have lain safely hidden until the
return of the missionaries, was Mrs. Albrecht's
piano, brought all the way from London. Curious
fingers dissected the instrument, fragments of
which helped tell the half -comic, half -pathetic tale
to Robert Moffat when he reached Afrikaner's
kraal several years later.

In course of time Christian Albrecht returned
to the Namaqua region, though both his wife
and his brother had died from the hardships
58

THE KRAAL OF AFRIKANER THE OUTLAW

they had suffered there. At a spot south of the
river, called Pella, a place of refuge, he reestab-
lished the mission and there worked and prayed
for the conversion of Afrikaner, his enemy. Just
before he left the country to go again to the Cape,
where he died shortly after, he had the joy of
reconciliation with Afrikaner and the assurance
that the outlaw chief was ready to listen to a mes-
sage of peace and good-will quite contrary to his
life of plunder and bloodshed.

Because he had faith in this story of Afrikaner's
readiness to hear the gospel, Robert Moffat jour-
neyed to the famous kraal with more of hopeful-
ness than misgiving tinging his expectations. But
all speculations regarding his welcome at Afri-
kaner's kraal were soon forgotten in the events
of the journey itself, which was every day becom-
ing more of a problem and a peril.

At Bysondermeid Eobert parted from Mr. and
Mrs. Kitchingham, who had been his companions
all the way from England. In a native cart
drawn by several yoke of oxen, accompanied by
three native servants, he set out across an un-
broken desert, a real missionary on the real trail
at last ! The first night they jolted through such

59

THE MOFFATS

deep sand that the oxen lay down exhausted in the
yoke before they reached that goal of every day's
journey — water.

The next day they resumed the trek, as the
Boers call a cross-country journey, and reached
the spot where a fountain or spring was supposed
to be, to find not a drop of water ! It was evident
that they would die of thirst if they continued in
that direction, so at the suggestion of the native
guide they swerved northward and faced a barren
desert where not a blade of green grass and
scarcely a bush w^ere to be seen. Toward night
men and beasts were again prostrated with thirst
and heat and dropped upon the sand, which was
still hot from the noonday sun. Thirst awakened
the men at break of day and drove them to the
nearest mountain upon a frantic search for water.
After digging and digging in the loose sand, they
came upon a trickling stream of dirty water, like
the bilge water of an old ship. Men and oxen
drank greedily and were ready for a second
draught before they had secured enough to go
around and to fill the small vessels they had
brought with them. When they started to go
back to the wagons, the sun was high in the sky,
60

THE KRAAL OF AFRIKANER THE OUTLAW

and the sand was like a red-hot stove. The oxen
went wild and ran until they came to a slightly
hardened bit of sand, where they crowded to-
gether, trying to cool their hoofs in the shade of
their own bodies, those on the outside struggling
to get into the center. At last the merciless sun
went down, and they began to yoke the oxen for
another journey by night, when to their consterna-
tion they found that most of the herd had run
away toward Bysondermeid. A man was sent in
pursuit, but at midnight he returned to report
that lions and thirst compelled him to give up
the search. A perilous situation it was! Not a
moment was to be lost. At once Robert dispatched
two of the men with the remaining oxen to the
next fountain, instructing them to go on to Pella
and secure assistance from Mr. Bartlett, the mis-
sionary there.

For three days Robert and his wagon-driver
waited on that glaring, sun-baked desert. Not a
single human being nor beast of prey appeared in
sight, although in the night the roar of lions
sounded from the mountain where they went twice
a day for water. Tufts of dry grass supplied the
fire for cooking their food, but, alas, there was

61

THE MOFFATS

little food to cook ! Hunger, thirst, heat, and the
sight of that monstrous desolation seemed enough
to drive one mad! They were just beginning to
fear that the men they had sent for help were lost
or dead, when three shapes appeared on the
horizon, drew nearer and nearer, and at length
resolved themselves into Mr. Bartlett and two
men on horseback, with huge flanks of mutton
fastened to their saddles. Never did a hungry
boy look upon a Thanksgiving dinner with such
real thanksgiving in his heart as did Kobert upon
that mutton, though it was killed but the evening
before. Mr. Bartlett, who was inured to African
temperature, declared that the heat Robert had
endured was enough to set the grass on fire.

After fresh oxen, accustomed to deep sand, ar-
rived, they journeyed on to Pella, well named *'a
place of refuge." Here our young missionary
found the rest and encouragement he needed in
the kindness of Mr. and Mrs. Bartlett and the
native Christians. As he was making ready for
a fresh start northward, the native teacher from
TVarmbad, named Magerman, came to Pella to beg
and implore the new missionary to locate in his
village. It was difificult to resist his entreaties,
62

THE KEAAL OF AFRIKANER THE OUTLAW

but Robert Moffat was honor bound, so he told
him to go first to Afrikaner's kraal, because the
directors in London had promised Afrikaner a
missionary. At last Magerman consented to
escort him across the Orange Eiver, but warily
chose a ford opposite Warmbad, hoping the vil-
lagers would come and take him by force to be
their missionary.

At the river bank rafts were made of dry willow
logs, six feet long, tied together with the inner
bark of the mimosa tree. It was a task of sev-
eral days to transport wagon and contents piece-
meal across the stream, which at this point was
five hundred yards wide and perilous with rocks
and swift current. As the moment approached
when Robert was to cross, he slipped away down
the wooded bank and plunged into the water, pre-
ferring his own strong strokes to the slippery
raft. As he swam toward the center where the
current was swiftest, the onlookers became
alarmed and dispatched expert swimmers to over-
take him, but this they tried in vain to do. He had
barely reached the opposite shore when a man
came running toward him, exclaiming breath-
lessly, ''Were you born in the great sea water?"

63

TEE MOFFAT S

No sooner had the wagon and its contents been
landed in a place of safety beyond the reach of
sudden floods, before Robert Moffat was fairly
mobbed by a crowd of excited people who claimed
him as their missionary. The next day entreaties
were renewed with such force, that it was after-
noon before he could snatch a bite to eat. As a
climax, the women came en masse, declaring that
if he went away from Warmbad he would have to
go over their dead bodies, for they would lie down
before the wheels of his wagon. Again and again
he told them he was in duty bound to go to Afri-
kaner, because the promise had been given. The
long parley was brought to an abrupt end by the
arrival of a band of men from Afrikaner's kraal,
led by three brothers of the chief and sent as an
escort for the missionary. The poor, disappointed
people of Warmbad scattered in dismay, for who
would dare oppose the will of the Afrikaners ?

On January 26, 1818, four months from the
time he left Cape Town, and more than a year
since he sailed from England, Robert Moffat came
to the goal of his journey, the kraal of Afrikaner,
the outlaw. As his wagon creaked into the vil-
lage of huts shaded by the mimosa trees, the
64

THE KRAAL OF AFRIKANER THE OUTLAW

chief's brother led it to a large tree some distance
from the hut of Mr. Ebner, a missionary who had
already come to the kraal, and who was to be
Robert's associate. Robert was considerably
puzzled by this move, but waited quietly to see
what would happen next, his uneasiness increas-
ing in proportion to the chief's delay in comiifg
to greet him. It was an exciting moment for Rob-
ert Moffat, the dramatic climax of all his adven-
tures, when, after an hour of suspense, he stood in
the presence of Afrikaner, the man most talked'
about and most feared in all South Africa. ''Two
strong men stood face to face" in that moment,
and they had come literally ''from the ends of the
earth," in experience as well as geography, to
meet in this African wilderness where the mettle
of each was to be tested.

"Are you the missionary appointed by the
directors of London ? ' ' inquired the chief after the
usual salutation. Upon receiving an affirmative
reply, he looked pleased and said, "You are
young ; I hope you will live long with me and my
people." He then turned and gave orders for a
number of women to attend upon him. As soon
as they appeared with their bundles of native

65

THE MOFFATS

mats and long sticks, he pointed to a spot of
ground and said, "There you must build a house
for the missionary." A circle was formed, poles
were thrust into the ground and tied down, straw
mats were stretched over them and fastened an(i
lo! in the space of half an hour the missionary's
house was complete. No door, no window, no
chimney, a flimsy protection of sticks and straws
from sun, rain, and wind, and from hungry dogs
and serpents, but home for he knew not how long !
A real missionary in a real African hut with a
real "ten thousand mile" between him and the
stone house at the end of the lane in Dukinfield!
Was it a wild hope conjured out of his great need,
that some day the fair daughter of that house
would leave her English home and come to dwell
with a lonely missionary in a far-away African
kraal? What then would isolation and hardship
matter, compared with the peace his heart would
know in her presence ?

66

CHAPTER V

**TWO STRONG MEN STAND FACE
TO FACE"

And it came to pass . . . that the soul of Jonathan was knit
with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.

— 1 Samuel xviii. 1.

" WITH A

FEELING OF

tJTTER

DESOLATION,

BOUERT

WATCHED THE

OX-WAGON

DISAPPEAE

IN THE

DESERT."

'TWO STRONG MEN STAND FACE
TO FACE"

Awake, my soul, in joyful lays
To sing the great Redeemer's praise.

BOYISH voice sang the words to the
accompaniment of a violin, while the
granite rocks caught the tones and
tossed fragments of song into the vil-
lage of huts in the valley below. The
evening glow fell upon the singer,
who leaned against a huge boulder as he sang and
played his violin. It was a brave song out of
the depths of a brave young heart which needed
all the solace his mother's favorite hymn could
give. As his Master went alone to the mountains
and desert places of Judea to pray, so Robert
Moffat was wont to go to the barren, rocky places
above the African kraal to think and pray, and
sometimes to break into victorious song. His
daily problems were so heavy and his prospects
so black, that he was prone to wonder if "he had

69

THE 3I0FFATS

run unsent" or if God had surely guided him to
this forsaken spot in the wilderness. But as his
thoughts trailed back over the long journey and
the experiences which had befallen him in Eng-
land, he felt sure that at every turn he had heard
the still, small voice saying, ''This is the way;
walk ye in it."

In Afrikaner's kraal the missionaries found
themselves in sorry plight. Every day brought
fresh hints of impending disaster. ''My inex-
perienced hand trembled to touch a single chord,"
wrote Robert Moffat afterwards, "lest it should
vibrate in sounds more discordant than those
which fell on my ear the preceding day." The
chief, now called Christian Afrikaner, treated the
missionaries with icy reserve, while Titus, his
brother, was an open enemy of all missionaries
and of Mr. Ebner in particular. Taking his stand
before his hut, while the whole village flocked to
the scene, he hurled the most insulting language
at the missionary and ordered him to leave the
place on penalty of physical violence. In distress,
Robert Moffat went to the chief and besought him,
as a fellow Christian, to stop the disorderly con-
duct of his brother. He appeared curiously
70

" TWO STRONG MEN STAND FACE TO FACE "

unwilling to take part in the affair, though promis-
ing to prevent a personal assault upon the mis-
sionary. Robert then drew Mr. Ebner aside and
begged him not to try to argue with a man so
crazed with rage. As a last resort he ventured
to speak to Titus himself, asking him to refer the
matter to the chief. "I hope you will not inter-
fere," replied Titus calmly. His only recourse
then was to sit down before Mr. Ebner 's hut to
protect the wife and children, should Titus resort
to blows.

It was almost sundown before the savage fury
of Titus spent itself and he moved away, obdurate
and sulky. Later in the evening Mr. Ebner came
to Robert and asked him to assume entire charge
of the mission, as he had resolved to leave the
country. Seeing that he was unduly excited, Rob-
ert urged him to wait a few days before deciding
finally. Meanwhile, he approached Titus Afri-
kaner and drew from him something like a
promise not to molest the missionary again. Even
with this assurance the decision of Mr. Ebner
could not be altered, and Robert saw his only mis-
sionary companions making ready to depart. The
exit was made in fear lest Titus should attack

71

THE MOFFATS

them beyond the village limits, for rumor had it
that, but for Robert Moffat's presence, a second
attack would have been made then and there.
With a feeling of utter desolation, Robert watched
the ox-wagon creep out between the rocks and dis-
appear in the desert, leaving him alone with Afri-
kaner and his tribe!

AVas it strange that he withdrew to the rocky
outskirts of the village to pray for strength to
carry the burdens of the day? For a man not yet
twenty-three years of age, the responsibility was
appalling ! The people were suspicious and jeal-
ous by nature, and their wild life had accentuated
these traits until they became ruling passions.
The best of them had been described as ''sharp
thorns." The land upon which their kraal was
built was barren and unfruitful, yielding no grain
and little prospect of any, because of scarcity of
water for irrigation. There was no way of send-
ing to the Cape for supplies, and, even if there
had been, Robert had no money with which to buy
them, for his meager salary of twenty-five pounds
a year admitted no extras. Out of this maze of
difficulties Robert Moffat found the clue which
was to lead him into friendly relations with the
72

" TWO STRONG MEN STAND FACE TO FACE ^'

people, and, before long, to the happiest of sur-
prises.

He began the usual work of a pioneer mission-
ary, conducting religious services morning and
evening and teaching the children three or four
hours during the day. His school became quickly
popular and numbered a hundred or more chil-
dren who came clad in their dirty harasses,
or outer garments, of sheepskin. It was not
long before his daily services were attended
by no less a person than the chief himself,
who came with unfailing regularity. Afri-
kaner had never been proficient in reading, but
he now applied himself to the task with the
zest of a boy who has discovered the most inter-
esting pursuit of his life. He would read his
Testament hours at a time, sitting in the shade of
a great rock, or else in his hut, unperturbed by
the presence of his family or strangers. Many a
night he sat on a stone outside the missionary's
hut, talking with his new friend until daybreak
upon such themes as the creation of the world,
the redemption of mankind, and the wonders of
the heavenly life. Often, in the exact language
of the Bible, he would repeat passages he had

73

THE MOFFAT S

studied during the day and failed to understand.
There was no end to the questions his inquiring
mind could ask, philosophical questions about end-
less space and infinite duration and the creative
power of God as exhibited in earth and sky. Long
and weighty were the discussions, until he would
rub his hands upon his head and exclaim with
childlike simplicity, ' ' I have heard enough ; I feel
as if my head were too small, as if it would swell
with these great subjects." ,

While Christian Afrikaner was thus discover-
ing new worlds to conquer, Titus was fighting a
new kind of battle with himself as enemy. Some-
how the missionary's influence had penetrated
even his stormy life and set up a counter storm
which drove through his life with cleansing force.
Robert Moffat had made repeated advances to
Titus Afrikaner, speaking to him about the vital
concerns of his life in soft and gentle tones, such
as the African savage had seldom heard. Grad-
ually he showed signs of relenting, until he too
came to the daily services and often sat long into
the night listening silently to the conversation be-
tween his brother and the missionary. He who
had been the implacable enemy now became the
74

" TWO STRONG MEN STAND FACE TO FACE "

staunch friend of the Christian missionary, though
he was not ready yet to acknowledge himself a
follower of the missionary's Christ. He said his
head had become too hard with sin. ''I hear what
you say, and I think I sometimes understand, but
my heart will not feel."

Now Titus Afrikaner was the only influential
man in the place who had two wives, and the exam-
ple was pernicious. Robert Moffat had tactfully
led up to the subject on several occasions, but
Titus was unmoved, though willing to admit that
a man with two wives had no enviable lot. ''He
is often in an uproar," he declared, "and when
they quarrel he does not know whose part to
take." One day he came to the missionary's hut
leading an ox, upon which rode one of his wives.
"What is the matter?" inquired Robert as he
greeted his guest. Shaking hands and laughing,
Titus replied, "Just the old thing over again.
Mynheer must not laugh too much at me, for I am
now in for it." The two wives had quarreled,
and one had flung a rotten stick with such force
that it struck the other's hand and left a piece
an inch long imbedded in the palm. The hand
had swollen to four times its normal size. "Why

75

THE M OFF ATS

did you not bring her sooner?" asked the mission-
ary. ''She was afraid to see you and would not
come till I assured her you were a 7naak mensche
(tame man)." Robert made an incision and re-
moved the splinter, whereupon the woman wept
with gratitude and listened meekly while he
pleaded with her to live a better life.

One day Robert was sitting in the presence of
the chief, when, in a fit of absent-mindedness, he
looked steadily into the black face before him.
Afrikaner modestly asked the reason for this
searching scrutiny. "I was trying to picture to
myself your carrying fire and sword through the
country," answered Robert. ''I could not think
how eyes like yours could smile at human woe."
For answer the once bloodthirsty chief cried like
a child.

Every day gave fresh evidence of the reality of
Afrikaner's conversion. He was not the man to
do things by halves. As he once went the whole
length of evil, he was now going the whole length
of goodness. He joined the missionary in a cru-
sade for cleanliness and industry in the dirty, lazy
kraal. Chief and missionary stood together at
the fountain, superintending the school children,
76

" TWO STRONG MEN STAND FACE TO FACE "

one hundred and twenty in number, as they took
the first real baths of their lives. The two re-
formers persevered in argument and entreaty
until the children actually washed their sheepskin
harasses, no easy task to perform since the skins
were untanned and sewed together with sinews of
animals, besides being stiff with dirt. Wherever
there was poverty or distress in the region, there
Afrikaner went with help and sympathy, though
from his spoils of many years he had but little
left to give. He who had once been a firebrand
among the tribes now became their peacemaker.
When he could have lifted his arm and dared the
contending tribes to draw a bow, he would stand
between them as suppliant, imploring them to
make up the quarrel without bloodshed. Allud-
ing to his past life, he would say, "What have
I now of all the battles I have fought and all the
cattle I took, but shame and remorse?"

Without the generosity of the Afrikaners, life
would have gone unduly hard with Robert Moffat,
for food was scarce in that arid region. A gift of
two cows from the chief saved him many a hungry
night, while the clever marksmanship of Titus
Afrikaner brought him the elusive game. His

77

THE MOFFATS

food consisted wholly of milk and meat, first one
and then the other, occasionally both at once and
sometimes neither. ''The diet hard and the blan-
ket on the ground" were but the cross to be joy-
fully borne for this "youthful, sine\\^ pioneer,"
who had ''sprung to his place" in God's great
vanguard of workers!

78

CHAPTER VI

THE GIPSY LIFE OF AN
AFRICAN TRAVELER

I refuse to acknowledge that there is anything I ought to
do which I cannot do. — Mary Porter Gamewell.

" AFBIKANEE
SMILED

APPRECIAXnTXY
AT THE WORDS
WHICH HE
CAUGHT."

VI

THE GIPSY LIFE OF AN
AFRICAN TRAVELER

OMETHING unusual was going on in
Afrikaner's kraal, for the people were
all gathered in one spot, intently watch-
ing. In the center of the circle was a
fire, and over the fire was bending a
young man struggling with a pair of
bellows made of goatskin. The open ends of
the bag-shaped skins he had nailed to a circular
piece of board, in which he had fastened a valve.
Connecting the other end with the fire and placing
a weight on it to force out the wind, he drew out
the valve, when, to the delight of the onlookers, a
steady current of air rushed through. With a
blue granite stone for an anvil, a hammer, and a
clumsy pair of tongs, he set to work in dead
earnest to weld the iron bands to mend his broken-
down wagon, which was in demand for a journey.
The tension of his face relaxed as he watched the
success of an experiment upon which grave issues
depended. This was the first time in his life that

81

THE MOFFATS

Robert Moffat had undertaken work which prop-
erly belonged to an experienced smith, but a
pioneer life sharpens the inventive faculty to
the utmost ingenuity.

Afrikaner and his people were planning a diffi-
cult expedition into the wilderness, and their mis-
sionary was to accompany them. For his sake,
as well as for the transport of game, an ox-wagon
was a necessity. His own wagon was the only
one the village could boast, and it was decrepit
from its long journey from Cape Town. There
was no smith in the place and no possibility of
moving the wagon to Pella, where the work could
have been done. The expedition must be made,
the wagon must go, and by some device or other
Robert must mend its broken joints. So he im-
provised bellows and tools, welded the iron, and
the wagon was as good as new. Gun-locks were
also repaired at the missionary's forge, and on a
day in June the expedition was equipped and
ready to start.

For some time there had been talk of migration
to a more fertile territory. So little rain fell in
their present location and the fountain was so in-
adequate for irrigation that even the grass with-
82

TRE GIPSY LIFE OF AN AFRICAN TRAVELER

ered and died. Most of the men took their cattle
and went forth in search of pasturage. Neither
man nor beast could find sustenance from that
parched soil, and to locate a permanent mission
there would be sheer folly. Hence it came about
that thirty men set forth to explore the country
on the borders of Damaraland to the north, where,
it was said, the fountains never ran dry.

Their route led first over endless stretches of
sand, plains of sand, hills of sand, all caused by
the granite formations. Ironstone, quartz, and
occasionally copper were to be found in this
strange region, where strata ran up and down and
across and sometimes in a straight line from one
hill to another. Zebras, giraffes, elks, and ante-
lopes formed a moving panorama on the desolate
background. Flesh of zebras and giraffes consti-
tuted the principal diet of the travelers. It was
cut in thin pieces and dried on the bushes in the
sun, while the expedition halted. "When it was
kept long, it became like leather and had to be
heated in the ashes and pounded between stones
to loosen the fibers. Robert Moffat finished many
a meal with jaw so sore from excessive chewing
that he could barely speak. When there was

83

THE MOFFATS

nothing at all to eat, he would bind his stomach
with a thong, which the travelers whimsically
called the ''fasting girdle." Once when food was
scarce, they found honey in the crevices of the
rocks and ate it with relish, thinking they had
made a lucky discovery. Presently one after an-
other complained of a burning sensation in his
throat, until all were afflicted with the same fiery
malady. A native who appeared on the scene
told them the honey was poisoned by the euphor-
bia flowers from which the bees had extracted it.
The results were unpleasant, but not disastrous.

Later on in the journey they met with an ad-
venture which haunted the memory of one of the
travelers forever after. For an entire day they
had pushed their way through the hot sand with-
out a drop of water to drink. All night they tossed
restlessly with thirst and exhaustion. Early in
the morning Robert arose and, with a single com-
panion, started on ahead to see if he could trace
his way to a pool of water by following the foot-
prints of animals. They passed beyond a barrier
of hills and saw in the distance a tiny thread of
smoke rising from a clump of bushes. It was a
sign of human life, which surely betokened the
84

THE GIPSY LIFE OF AN AFRICAN TRAVELER

presence of water, and they quickened their pace.
When they had come within a hundred yards of
the place, they stopped excitedly, for the foot-
prints were those of a lion which must have passed
that way but an hour before. The men had no
guns, for they were too tired to carry them, but
thirst conquered fear, and they pressed on, casting
wary glances at every bush. They reached the
spot and found neither lion nor water, but an old,
old woman, a veritable skeleton, who sat with her
head resting upon her hands in abject weakness.
Terrified by the sudden appearance of two men,
one of them a white man, she tried to rise but fell
back trembling to the ground. Calling her by the
name best loved the world over, Robert Moffat
tried to allay her fear.

' ' My mother, fear not ; we are friends and will
do you no harm. How do you come to be in this
situation?"

After a time she made answer: ''I have been
here four days ; my children have left me here to
die."

''Your children!" exclaimed the white man in
horror.

"Yes," said she, "my own children, three sons

85

THE MOFFATS

and two daughters ; they are gone, ' ' pointing with
her bony finger, ''to yonder blue mountain and
have left me to die."

''And pray, why did they leave you?"

"I am old," said she, stretching out her hands.
"I am no longer able to serve them; when they
kill game, I am too feeble to help in carrying home
the flesh; I am not able to gather wood to make
fire, and I cannot carry their children on my back
as I used to do."

These last words were more than the white man
could endure, and he wept, even while his tongue
clove to the roof of his mouth from thirst. Just
then the wagon came creaking along and the
woman cowered in fear, thinking it was an animal.
Robert reassured her and proposed to lift her into
the wagon and take her with them. At the very
suggestion she shook with fright. The same thing
would be done over again if they took her away
and left her in another village, so she said. "It
is our custom; I am nearly dead; I do not want to
die again."

The sun was now high and fiercely hot; the
oxen were stamping in their yokes ; the men were
almost delirious. They must move on in search
86

THE GIPSY LIFE OF AN AFRICAN TRAVELER

of water, so they collected some sticks for a fire,
left dry meat and a knife and, promising to return
in two days, went on their way. After a long ride
past a series of rocky hills they came at last to a
stagnant pool of muddy water into which men and
oxen plunged frantically.

In two days they retraced their course, accord-
ing to their promise, but they found the old woman
gone and every vestige of a human presence re-
moved save the footprints of two men. Several
months later, Robert Moffat learned from the lips
of a wandering tribesman that from ''yonder blue
mountain" the sons had seen the wagon stop and
thought the travelers were looking upon their
mother's dead body. Going down to see, they
found her alive and eager to tell the story of the
strangers' kindness. Fearing the vengeance of
the great chief, as they took the white man to be,
they carried her home and cared for her with un-
usual solicitude during the rest of her life.

One night around the camp-fire Robert talked
with his black companions about this terrible cus-
tom, saying that men who could do such things
were as bad as lions. "They are worse," de-
clared Afrikaner and proceeded to describe the

87

TEE MOFFAT S

lion's habit of giving right of way to the older
beast. When an old lion, hunting with younger
lions, his " children," as the Africans naively call
them, comes upon game, he makes the onslaught
while the others crouch on the grass near by.
After he has killed his prey, he withdraws for a
breathing spell, while they wait and watch. After
a rest of some fifteen minutes he begins to feast,
retiring a second time to rest and advancing a
second time to eat, before the younger lions offer
to take their turn. Even when a young lion cap-
tures the prey himself, he gives way in favor of
an old lion, if one chances upon the scene. "The
lions have better manners than the Namaquas,"
reiterated Afrikaner.

Two months slipped away before the travelers
returned to Afrikaner's kraal, weary and disap-
pointed, but dauntless still. They had not suc-
ceeded in finding a suitable location for the mis-
sion because in that arid region there was none
to find. The expedition had been valuable for
demonstrating that fact alone. Before many
weeks passed, Afrikaner was ready with another
plan, involving an even more hazardous journey
for the missionary.
58

THE GIPSY LIFE OF AN AFRICAN TRAVELER

Meanwhile, Robert Moffat found outlet for his
energies itinerating among the Namaqua villages
near and far. When, at the close of a hot day, he
came with his interpreter to a cluster of huts, the
black people would gather, perhaps in a corner of
the fold among the kine, and listen to the story
that the white man always loved to tell, because
he knew its power to heal and help. On these
tours he rode a real horse instead of an ox with
sharp horns, upon which the rider might be im-
paled. Titus Afrikaner had given him this horse.
It was the only one he possessed and was invalu-
able for hunting, but nothing was too good for his
friend, the missionary.

In September the second exploring party was
ready to start. Griqua Town, several hundred
miles eastward, was the destination. The Griqua
chiefs had offered Afrikaner a settlement in their
territory, and he was sending this advance force
to reconnoiter and report. The chief did not go in
person, but he sent David and Simon, his broth-
ers, Jonker, his son, and a guide, to accompany
the missionary. Eight horses, good, bad, and
indifferent, and a sheepskin blanket apiece made
up the equipment of the party.

8»'

THE MOFFATS

Brightly colored birds without the gift of song,
baboons, hyenas, panthers, and lions were the
only living creatures that they met in the wilder-
ness. Mimosa bushes with thorns like fish-hooks
and deep chasms walled in with steep precipices
were the natural obstacles to progress. Once, un-
wittingly, the missionary drank water which the
little Bushmen had poisoned to trap game. Once,
on a cold night, having covered the tired horses
with the sheepskin karosses, he dug a hole in the
sand and buried himself, all but his head. He
had the best sleep of the journey that night. Once,
as they were fording a stream at twilight, a hip-
popotamus gave chase, snorting so loudly that the
precipices sent back the echoes. On another occa-
sion their guide lost the path, and they encamped
for the night without water, only to find in the
morning that they had been led by an invisible
Guide to escape the deadly peril of lions. Worst
of all, they w^ere nearly three days without food
and nearly two days without w^ater, arriving at
Griqua Town totally unable to speak and making
known by signs their desperate need of water.

From Griqua Town they went fifty miles north
■to Daniel's Kuil and as far again to Lattakoo, a
90

THE GIPSY LIFE OF AN AFRICAN TRAVELER

mission station on the Kuruman River, among the
Bechnana tribes. Little did Robert Moffat dream
at that time that the Bechnana people and the
Kuruman mission were to be vitally connected
with his life and that of another.

In October they returned to make report to
Afrikaner and to give heartfelt thanks to God for
their safe home-coming after the terrible hazards
of the journey. Removal to Griqualand was de-
ferred for the present, and work was resumed on
the old site, where drought and hunger pressed
sore, but the Bread of Life had renewed power
to sustain. Never before had the people shown
such affection for their missionary, though they
little realized his aching need of human sympathy.
For a secret grief, unsuspected by his black neigh-
bors, Robert required the infinite solace of the
gospel that he preached, — required and obtained
it day by day. Had they known the contents of
a certain English letter which reached him on a
black day in November, their simple minds would
have devised new ways of expressing the love
they felt.

For their sakes, as well as for his own physical
necessities, Robert Moifat conceived a plan for a

91

THE M OFF ATS

third expedition which involved perils and possi-
bilities altogether unique. He proposed that Afri-
kaner should go with him to Cape Town. It was
imperative that Robert's tattered wardrobe should
be replenished; even more imperative was it that
the mission should be relocated on a more stra-
tegic site. Both these needs could be met in Cape
Town. Wlien he broached the subject to Afri-
kaner, the chief stared in blank amazement. ''I
had thought you loved me, and do you advise me
to go to the government to be hung up as a spec-
tacle of public justice? Do you not know that I am
an outlaw, and that one thousand rix-dollars have
been offered for this poor head?" But Robert
had visions of great things to be accomplished by
Afrikaner's visit to the Colony, and his enthusi-
asm inspired his black companion. "I shall de-
liberate," said Afrikaner thoughtfully, "and com-
mit my way unto the Lord; I know he will not
leave me."

The question weighed heavily upon chief and
people. For three days they deliberated; then
they came to a solemn decision. Afrikaner was
to go. It was upon the young missionary that the
burden of responsibility fell, but he was sure he
S2

THE GIPSY LIFE OF AN AFRICAN TRAVELER

was doing right and that God would carry him
through unscathed to his destination and to final
victory.

As a precaution for travel through the leriitory
of the Dutch farmers, Robert assumed the role
of chief and Afrikaner that of servant. There
was nothing, however, in the apparel of either to
denote the presence of a chieftain. Robert had
exactly two substantial shirts left, and one of them
he gave to Afrikaner, who donned in addition a
pair of leather trousers, a time-worn duffel jacket
and an old hat of nondescript hue. The mission-
ary's garb was scarcely more presentable, but
what could be expected after fifteen months of
roughing it in the most stubborn wilderness of the
world?

As they crossed the borders of Cape Colony,
concern deepened in Robert Moif at 's mind. How
would the Dutch farmers treat Afrikaner, should
they chance to discover his identity? They were
obliged to stop for water at the scattered farms
along their route, and Robert found again the hos-
pitable welcome which the Boers customarily ac-
corded to strangers. When they recognized him,
they exclaimed in amazement, saying they had

93

THE MOFFAT S

heard he was murdered by Afrikaner. When he
tried to tell them of Afrikaner's transformed life,
they seemed to think his mind deranged.

One day he came to a house where he had met
with marked kindness on his inland journey. The
farmer came down the hill upon which the house
was built, to greet the stranger, and Robert put
out his hand saying he was glad to see him again.
The farmer thrust his hand behind him and asked
rather distractedly, *'Who are you?"

'*I am Moffat, have you forgotten me?"

''Moffat!" he stammered. "It is your ghost.
Don't come near me," and he retreated several
steps. "You have been long murdered by Afri-
kaner. " " But I am no ghost, ' ' protested Robert,
feeling his hands to testify his flesh and blood
reality.

"Everybody says you were murdered," par-
leyed the farmer. "A man told me he had seen
your bones."

For several minutes he stared at the youthful
figure before him; then he bravely put out his
hand saying, "Wlien did you rise from the dead?"
Thinking that his wife would be alarmed at his
appearance, they walked down the hill toward the
94

THE GIPSY LIFE OF AN AFRICAN TRAVELER

wagon talking, as they went, about Afrikaner,
that human bugbear of the farmers.

^ * He is now a truly good man, ' ' affirmed Robert,
after recounting the facts of his conversion and
transformed life.

*'I can believe almost anything you say," re-
plied the farmer, *'but that I cannot credit; there
are seven wonders in the world ; that would be the
eighth. ' '

By that time they were close to Afrikaner him-
self, who smiled appreciatively at the words that
he caught.

''Well," concluded the farmer, '*if what you
assert respecting that man be true, I have only one
wish, and that is, to see him before I die ; and when
you return, as sure as the sun is over our heads,
I will go with you to see him, though he killed my
uncle. ' '

The last announcement was rather startling,
but, knowing the good nature of the farmer, Rob-
ert decided to run the risk and grant him his wish
on the spot.

''This, then, is Afrikaner," said he.

The farmer drew back and stared at him as if

95

THE M OFF ATS

he had dropped from the sky. *'Are you Afri-
kaner?" he asked.

Afrikaner arose, doffed his old hat and bowed
politely, saying, ''I am." The farmer gazed at
him with awe as the chief stood meek as a lamb
before him. Lifting up his eyes he said rever-
ently, ' ' 0 God, what a miracle of thy power ! What
cannot thy grace accomplish!"

In April, 1819, Robert Moffat and Christian
Afrikaner guided their ox-cart into Cape To\vn,
having made the trip from Great Namaqualand in
two months. His excellency the governor. Lord
Charles Somerset, appointed an hour wherein to
receive the famous outlaw, whose arrival he
could scarcely credit. It was an interesting situa-
tion when Afrikaner stood in the presence of the
English governor, the man who had refused per-
mission to Robert Moffat, upon his landing in
Cape To^vn, to go as a missionary beyond the
borders of the Colony. He now saw before him in
Christian Afrikaner living evidence of the value
of the enterprise which he had once questioned.
He received him with marked kindness and, as
token of good-will, presented him with a fine, new
wagon worth at least eighty pounds. It so hap-
96

THE GIPSY LIFE OF AN AFRICAN TRAVELER

pened, in the irony of human events, that before
Afrikaner left Cape Town the one hundred
pounds sterling once offered as reward for his
capture was expended by the government in gifts
for himself and his people.

The presence of Afrikaner created no small stir
in Cape Town, for his lawless adventures had
been the common theme for twenty years. The
gentleness of his bearing and his accurate knowl-
edge of the Bible made a profound impression.
His New Testament, which bore the thumb-marks
of constant usage, was touching evidence of sin-
cerity. The missionary had indeed proved his
case by producing this witness whose very life
testified mightily to the redemptive power of
Jesus Christ.

That same unfailing power had been tested in
the missionary's own life the last five months,
though none but himself saw the fight or knew
when the victory came. The struggle began when
that sad letter found its way to him in Afrikaner's
kraal. In that letter Mary Smith had told him
she would never, never be able to go to Africa
to work by his side, because her father had for
the last time refused his permission. Again it

97

THE M OFF ATS

was the old cry, he must go — across the veld and
the burning sand of Africa — and she must stay
— far away in bonny England with ''ten thousand
mile ' ' between !

CHAPTER VII
THE VICTORY OF LOVE

It takes great love to stir a human heart

To live beyond the others and apart,

Love that can wound love, for its higher need:

Love that can leave love, though the heart may bleed ;

Love that can lose love, family, and friend.

Yet steadfastly live, loving to the end.

" SHE SAT
DOWN AND
WROTE A
LETTEB
TO BOBEBT'S
PARENTS "

VII

THE VICTORY OF LOVE

[T was October in northern England,
and the magic of the season played
havoc with one's workaday mood.
From the tall beech-trees yellow
leaves fell like streamers of gold
through the Indian summer haze.
Late roses ventured upon a brief career in the
Cheshire gardens, while upon the hills lingered
the purple of the heath-bloom, faded but indomi-
table. The wood above the Dukinfield nursery
wore its autumn garb of russet brown which the
mellow light transfused into shiny bronze. In
the garden behind the stone house the young trees
were being snugly planted against the time of
frosts and snows. The rix>ening processes of
summer were past, and in this disquieting mid-
season nature and man were preparing for the
endurance test of winter.

By her work-table in the sunny sitting room
Mary Smith sat, her sewing lying forgotten in
her lap, her blue eyes misty with thought. Her

101

TRE M OFF ATS

endurance test had outlasted two winters, stern
and unremitting. Would her strength hold out
for a third and a fourth winter, perhaps for a
lifetime of bleak, shivery winters, when all the
while her heart was craving the warmth and sun-
shine of summer? It was two years ago this very
month since Robert had sailed away from Eng-
land. In that first void of separation Mary had
been buoyed by the hope of joining him some day
in Africa. It was her unceasing prayer that this
hope might be fulfilled. She gloried in the
thought of going to him, knowing he could not in
honor return to her. But that prospect had
dimmed steadily before her eyes as her parents
grew more and more unwilling to let her go. She
could scarcely listen to a sermon concerning
God's readiness to answer prayer without break-
ing down and sobbing, so disheartened had she
become. Would he not answer her prayer and
grant her heart's desire?

Last winter had brought the final decision, and
she had written to Robert renouncing their cher-
ished hope of reunion in Africa. If it had been
excruciating to write that letter, it was more ex-
cruciating to think of his receiving it. She
102

THE VICTORY OF LOVE

could even see the mute suffering upon his face
as he read those cruel sentences she had written,
oh, so unwillingly. If only she could have been
there to soothe the hurt she herself inflicted ! In
her own life there had been times when it seemed
as if she must die of the wound she bore. But
what was the endurance test allotted to her in
the outskirts of busy Manchester, compared with
that set for him in an African kraal with an ox-
cart, and with six hundred miles of desert be-
tween him and civilization ! In his primitive sur-
roundings there would arise every day problems
of living such as a man could hardly solve with-
out a woman's help. Was it right for her to fail
him in his great need? Mary had always be-
lieved her love for Robert was God's call not
merely to the ''ordinary human bliss," but to the
companionship of a great purpose and a great
endeavor. "Was she not doing wrong to resist
that irresistible call? ''Impelled by feelings I
cannot master, held back by a tie I dare not
break. ' ' It was the old dilemma magnified a hun-
dred times by her yearning to see again the boy-
ish curve of his cheek, to touch with caressing,
reverent fingers the locks of his dark hair. What

103

THE MOFFATS

wonder that the last rays of the sun that October
afternoon fell aslant a girlish head, buried in
abandon of grief upon the little work-table, her
sewing lying in a tumbled heap on the floor!

The illusion of summer cast by the hazy, Oc-
tober days passed into the grim reality of winter.
The days grew shorter and the nights longer,
spreading twilight over the land before the day's
work was done. Bleak winds and gusts of snow
drove men and beasts to shelter. One December
evening James Smith and his wife were sitting
before the fire talking in low, grave tones. Mary
had just left them to go to her room, and the
house was still with a strange sense of expectancy.
The firelight flickered upon the two gray heads
and caught the frightened, wistful look upon
their faces. They had climbed "the hill the-
gither" and now "they maun totter down, hand
in hand," leaning harder upon each other and
harder still upon God, for Mary, their precious
child, was going out from the stone house at
Dukinfield across the seas to Africa, perhaps
never to come home again. There before the fire
they had fought their battle through to victory, —
those God-fearing parents. No longer would they
104

THE VICTORY OF LOVE

withhold Mary from the life God had appointed
her to live.

A few days ago two letters had come from
Robert, letters which had been seven and eight
months on the way. "When the father and mother
listened to those letters, straight from Afri-
kaner's kraal, their eyes were opened, and they
saw with clear vision the destitute, ill-fed, pa-
thetically lonely life they had doomed Robert to
live without Mary. Had they a right to keep
those two apart when together each could work
twice as effectively for the black people of Africa,
''the strength of two being felt in each one's
power?" It was God who was calling this child
to his work. Dare they refuse him I No, a
thousand times no, even though a sword pierced
their own souls. It was a kind of annunciation
which came to this father and mother, the seal
of God upon the life of their child. In days to
come they too would sing a Magnificat because
a child of theirs had been chosen ''to go before
the face of the Lord to make ready his ways. ' '

Christmas that year brought the gift of gifts
into the family life at Dukinfield, the gift of vic-
torious love. For Mary the rebound of joy was

105

THE HI OFF ATS

almost too wonderful to endure. Love came into
its o^vn and wrought an excitement of spirit as
riotous as spring, and as transforming. There
were no neutral tints in her life to match the
^\^nter landscape. Life was all color, movement,
intensity, but with a storm-cloud of suffering on
the horizon. The bliss of going to Robert was
already shadowed with the dread of leaving home.
Marriage for Robert Moffat and Mary Smith in-
volved sacrifices beyond the common lot of young
lovers, but the measure of loss was less than the
measure of gain in the love they bore each other
and the Leader they followed.

The great news was already on its slow way
to South Africa, where by this time Robert must
have received the other letter saying that Mary
could never come. How could she wait six or
eight months for these opposite tidings to reach
him! From the African hut where she pictured
Robert her thoughts sped to a little stone cot-
tage in Scotland where lived another father and
mother whom she had never seen, but toward
whom her heart went out in yearning. To ease
her mind she sat down and wrote a letter to
Robert's parents:
106

THE VICTORY OF LOVE

Manchester, December 16, 1818.
My dear Friends:

Doubtless you will be surprised to be addressed thus by
an entire stranger, but, though personally unknown, you are
dear to me for the sake of your beloved son Robert. If you
have received a letter from him lately, you will perhaps know
in what relation I stand to him; but, as I think it very prob-
able that your letter may have miscarried, I cannot but feel
deeply anxious that you should know of his welfare. I received
letters from him about ten days ago, dated April and May,
1818, in the former of which he states that he sent by the
same opportunity a letter for you and also one for my father,
but as this has never come to hand I fear that yours also may
have met with some delay, if it is not entirely lost.

It is not only the probability of this circumstance which
induces me to write to you, but also a desire to communicate to
you that, after two years and a half of the most painful
anxiety, I have, through the tender mercy of God, obtained
permission of my parents to proceed some time next spring to
join your dear son in his arduous work. This is what I by no
means expected a week ago, but God's thoughts are not as our
thoughts. When he arises, eveiy mountain flows down at his
presence. He has the hearts of all men in his hands and can
turn them as the rivers of water. So he has done with regard
to my parents. Previous to the arrival of these last letters, my
father had persisted in saying that I should never have his
consent ; my dear mother has uniformly asserted that it would
break her heart ( as I have no sister, and she is far advanced in
life) ; notwithstanding all this, they both yesterday calmly

107

THE MOFFATS

resigned me into the hands of the Lord, declaring they durst
no longer withhold me.

The idea of parting forever with my beloved family appears
almost too much for myself. Sometimes I think I shall never
get launched on the ocean before grief weighs me down; but
such are my convictions of duty, that I believe, were I to re-
main here another year, it would then be out of my power to
go, for I must sink under the weight of an accusing conscience,
when I consider Robert's peculiarly trying situation and the
strong affection which he seems to bear to me.

The dawTi of the new year brought to Mary-
Smith an unparalleled expectancy. Before its
course was run, what mighty changes would be
wrought for her and for those she loved ! Prepa-
rations were begun in earnest, for at the first
suitable opportunity Mary was to sail for South
Africa. In those days no weekly mail boat sped
with unfailing regularity from Southampton to
Cape Town in sixteen days. Only an occasional
sailing vessel put out to sea on uncertain dates
for the voyage of three months to the Cape. In
those tense days of waiting and preparing, par-
ents and children drew very near to one another.
Only the great realities of life stood out, the petty
concerns dwindling into insignificance. The three
boys, William, John, and James, came under their
108

THE VICTORY OF LOVE

sister's influence, and John publicly avowed his
allegiance to the Master she served. Thus was
another prayer answered, for Mary had longed
to have this brother committed to the Christian
life before she left the country. Sharing her pur-
pose, he could more effectively minister to their
father and mother in her absence.

The yellow broom set the hills ''aglow with
golden light" on the day Mary Smith said good-
by to her Chester home. The green hedges
and greener fields, the thatched villages and
manor-houses buried in shrubbery, never seemed
half so fair as on the summer day that she and
lier father set forth for London. The coach
swung around a curve, giving one last glimpse
of smoky Manchester, one last agonizing look in
the direction where, behind the smoke and the
trees, stood the stone house in which a white-
faced mother went bravely about her daily work.
Then on and on they went through large towns
and tiny hamlets, drawing up with lordly flourish
at roadside inns and at last, with dignified pace,
entering the great city which lies at the end of
every Britisher's dream — London.

In the early nineteenth century he who would

109

THE MOFFATS

cross the seas must needs learn the lesson of
patient waiting. Mary Smith learned her lesson
well before she left London to go to the ship.
Days lengthened into weeks, until her father
could stay "no longer and started on his lonely
way back to Dukinfield. Mary was left alone in
the great city, cherishing her precious memories
of the past and facing her unkno^vn, adventurous
future. New-found friends in Islington could
hardly do enough to prove their sympathy with
the brave-hearted girl. Her almost daily solace
was the long letter she wrote home, revealing the
terrible clash between her affection for her par-
ents and her longing, intensified by a high sense
of duty, to serve God in Africa with the man whom
she loved. One of these letters reads as follows :

London, August 13, 1819.
My dear Mother:

I have sent you a small token of affection. I thought it
would be better calculated to communicate pleasure and com-
fort to your heart than any article of dress. As for having
my portrait taken, I cannot now, as my father is leaving and
I should have to pay for it myself; and that you know would
not do. Whatever I possess now I must husband well, remem-
bering that I am now supported more peculiarly out of the
sacred treasury. Oh, may I ever keep this in mind and be a

110

THE VICTORY OF LOVE

faithful steward! Oh, my dear mother, do be happy, as you
vahie my peace of mmd, the honor of religion, and my credit
in the world! Do not let me be reflected upon for want of
affection to the best of mothers. You know it is not want of
affection. Oh, do not allow the world to think so! Let us
prove to the world that our blessed religion has power to
soothe us under every distress.

It was the last of August when Mary set forth
from London to go down to Gosport, near the
port of sailing. For two weeks she lingered
there, a guest in the home of Dr. and Mrs. Bogue.
One morning in September the captain's sum-
mons was received, and Mary Smith, with her
two missionary companions, went on board the
British Colony, in whose cramped quarters they
must remain until they stepped upon the shore
of Africa. At noon the ship sailed out of the har-
bor at "West Cowes for the long, long voyage. It
was about a week later that an unexpected let-
ter reached the family group at Dukinfield to add
a touch of gladness to their saddened thoughts.

Gosport, September 15, 1819.
My dear Madam:

After having had your lovely and interesting daughter an
inmate in our family, and enjoying an opportunity of cultivat-
ing her character and beholding her unfeigned and exalted

111

THE M OFF ATS

piety and zeal, I cannot but feel deeply for you and Mr.
Smith on being called to part with her to such a distance.
Great must have been the trial, the conflict must have been
severe; all the parental feelings must have risen up in direct
opposition to her plans and wishes. The sacrifice you have
made of them is great, but not too great for him who gave
up himself for you. " The best child is not too good for God."
He gave her to you and he has demanded her back again, and
he can and will be better to you than ten such daughters,
lovely and excellent as she is. His gracious presence can
more than supply hers, and, if he withdraws the nether springs,
he can make the upper springs to overflow and abound. He
has highly honored you in giving you such a daughter, and
by calling her to fill such a high post on earth as that of a
Christian missionary, the highest she could fill. . . .

While with us Miss Smith was in excellent health and spirits,
looked well and was cheerful and in a very happy and suitable
frame of mind. She sailed last Thursday and is, we suppose,
by this time safely across the Bay of Biscay, as the wind has
been favorable.

Your truly sympathizing friend,

Charlotte Bogue.

Far out to sea the British Colony pursued her
slow, uneven course. When the wind was favor-
able, she made four or five miles an hour; when
the wind was contrary, one mile; and when the
wind ceased altogether, she lay becalmed, rolling
from side to side with that slow, sickening mo-
112

TRE VICTORY OF LOVE

tion every traveler abhors. Below deck, pigs,
ducks, and geese added their din to the general
discord which prevailed among passengers and
crew. There was a perpetual scene of wrangling,
varied on two occasions by the captain's display
of authority, when he stamped about like a mad-
man, giving orders here and there, and threaten-
ing to blow out the brains of one of the offenders.
Mary Smith wished fervently for a squall, that
he might have something to take up his mind.
Mary had managed to keep aloof from the con-
tention on board, though by nature she was quick
and outspoken. The honor of her cause was at
stake in her conduct and she carried herself with
discreet self-control.

In 1819 no one would have chosen an ocean
voyage for resting tired nerves or reviving a
faded interest in life. It was a straight test of
endurance, in which only the fittest survived
without damage to health or disposition. Of all
the passengers on board the British Colony none
came through in such excellent health and spirits
as Mary. Her fellow passengers pronounced her
the one person on board best fitted in body and
mind for the rugged life of the interior. And

113

THE M OFF ATS

yet she had suffered many a day with headache,
and many a night had her pillow boon drenched
with tears as she thought and dreamed of home.
''Water, water everj^vhere" for four, eight,
ten, twelve weeks, and then early one morning
the thrilling cry of ''Land! " That cry aroused
varied emotions in the minds of the travelers:
for some, reunion with old and dear friends; for
others, the chance to make or redeem the for-
tunes of life ; and for one and all, relief from pro-
longed discomfort on shipboard. But was there
one among them who felt such inward agitation,
half dread, half ecstasy, as Mary Smith felt, as
she watched that gray strip on the horizon take
on the irregular contour of land? Was she in
some fantastic dream, from which she would sud-
denly awaken to find herself back in the familiar
scenes of Dukinfield? Or was this the reality and
her whole past life the dream? She felt as if she
were hovering on the margin of life, when either
past or future might slip from her grasp, leaving
her a stranded, forgotten spirit in a realm un-
known. She was separated by a great ocean from
her people at home. When and where would she
find the one to whom she had entrusted her future?
114

THE VICTORY OF LOVE

Presently Table Mountain emerged from the
indistinct mass, its huge, square bulk looming
against the sky. At its sides arose in sharp out-
lines the two peaks. Lion's Head and Devil's
Peak, and at its base gleamed the white houses
of Cape Town. As the ship entered the harbor,
friends came eagerly on board to greet the new
arrivals. Mary scanned each face for the one
she longed to see. But no, he was not there ! A
strange man was coming toward her as if to give
her welcome. Who could he be? What did it
mean? And where, where was Robert?

115

CHAPTER VIII
A HONEYMOON IN AN OX-CAET

Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
For, lo, the winter is past;
The rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth;
The time of the singing of birds is come,
And the voice of the turtle-dove is heard in our land.
— The Song of Solomon, ii. 10-12.

SOUTHERN 5^ _

MATABELELAITD ( ^

J ND/AN
•w OCSAN

ATLANT/C

OCEAT^

SOUTH AFRICA

Showing
Places Mentioned in

THE MOFFATS

VIII
A HONEYMOON IN AN OX-CAET

'HEN Afrikaner made ready to go home
from Cape Town, it was with heavy
heart, because his missionary must be
left behind in the Colony. Though he
had the good-will of the government in
the shape of substantial presents and,
more especially, in a passport to insure kindly
treatment from the Dutch farmers, yet he dreaded
to go back to his people in their lonely kraal with-
out the white man they loved so well. The white
man had other claims laid upon him, and in those
claims Afrikaner acquiesced with the unselfish-
ness of a real Christian.

In April, 1819, w^hen Robert Moffat and Afri-
kaner arrived in Cape Town, they found there
two men who had been sent by the London Mis-
sionary Society in England to investigate the con-
dition of the scattered mission stations in South
Africa. The men were John Campbell, an in-
trepid explorer who had already made one trip

119

THE MOFFAT S

into the interior of Africa, and Dr. Philip, who
was to remain in Cape Town as the permanent
representative of the Society. After meeting
Robert Moffat and hearing the story of his work
in Great Namaqualand, especially after seeing
the living result of that work in Christian Afri-
kaner, they concluded that he should be sent to
a larger and more promising field among the
Bechuana tribes on the Kuruman River. When
they broached the subject to Robert, he was
dumfounded, for he had fully expected to return
with Afrikaner. He had even bought supplies on
the way to the Cape which he intended taking
with him on the return trip. On no account would
he agree to the proposal until he had conferred
with Afrikaner and secured his approval. The
African chief, however, was not to be outdone
in sagacity or magnanimity. Like the general he
was, he recognized the strategy of placing the
missionary among a people larger in numbers
and more advantageously located than his own
small tribe upon its sandy plains. Like the
Christian he was, he gave up his missionary, that
other needy tribes might share the blessings of
his presence. With the instinct of a leader who
120

A HONEYMOON IN AN OX-CART

provides for the future of his followers, he
planned with Mr. Moffat how he might some time
remove his tribe to the Kuruman River, as the
Bechuanas, with whom he had traded, had often
invited him to do. At any rate he would take his
new ox-cart, the gift of the governor, and trans-
port the books, furniture, and cattle which the
missionary had left in his kraal to Lattakoo, the
new home in Bechuanaland. With these hopes
of reunion the two friends parted, each with a
void in his heart for the brother who had gone
his separate way.

In the meantime a still more difficult decision
was required of Robert Moffat. Dr. Philip and
Mr. Campbell were planning a trip to the eastern
part of the Colony and north into Kaffraria, to
visit old stations and prospect for new sites.
They urged Robert to go with them, on the plea
that his experience as an African traveler and
missionary would lessen the difficulties of the
undertaking. A predicament it surely was for
Robert! Four days after reaching Cape Town
he had received the letter from England which in
a flash turned his world of sober gray into color
and sunshine, with laughter and songs ringing in

121

THE MOFFAT S

his ears. Mary's letter had traveled swiftly to
its owner, winged perhaps by the buoyancy of its
message, hastened, at any rate, in its delivery by
Eobert's timely arrival in Cape To\\ti. She was
coming, coming, the girl he loved and had re-
nounced for duty's sake, coming to be his bride,
his lifelong companion, coming all that long,
perilous way, and, if he should go on the trip to
Kaffraria, he would be far away in the interior
when her ship came to port. Could he commit
to others the priceless privilege of welcoming
Mary? Every instinct of his being cried "No,
no," but somewhere from the deptlis within came
a stern, imperious little voice which said "Yes,"
with a finality not to be gainsaid. In a home let-
ter written about this time appeared these few
significant words:

"On these accounts nothing could have excited me to take
this journey but a sense of my duty which I owe to him in
whose service I am engaged. Dr. Philip and Mr. Campbell
laid before me the valuable aid my service would render them
on their important tour. I consider this a sufficient cause to
take up my cross and to follow Jesus. This is my comfort,
that the Lord is her refuge, and she will find numerous affec-
tionate friends in the Cape who will receive her with open
arms."
122

A HONEYMOON IN AN OX-CART

The touring party set forth and proceeded suc-
cessfully until Bethelsdorp was reached, when it
was learned that war with the Kafirs had broken
out and entrance into their country was pro-
hibited. There was nothing to do but return to
Cape Town, and, to Robert's unspeakable delight,
he was there in time. The ship was not yet due
in port! God had found his servant, like Abra-
ham of old, willing to obey, and in return for that
willingness had given him back the very joy he
had renounced.

Curiosity ran high in Cape Town whenever a
British ship was sighted at the entrance to Table
Bay. Wliat news would she bring from the great
world? What interesting cargoes? What letters
from home or from travelers afar? Perhaps the
very travelers theniselves ! Many there were who
hurried down to the pier that eventful day in
December when the British Colony came to port,
but, strange to relate, Robert Moffat was not
among them. As the time approached, he was so
violently shaken by the storm of feeling within
him that he dared not risk a greeting on board
ship amid a crowd of curious onlookers. No, his
first meeting with Mary must be in some quiet

123

THE MOFFATS

place where there would be no need of common-
places or disguises to hide the emotion they felt.
Consequently he sent his friend Mr. Melville to
the ship to meet Mary and escort her ashore,
while he waited at home, consumed by impatience
such as only a young lover knows. The months
and years of waiting crowded these last moments
with an intensity almost suffocating.

It was shortly after one o'clock when steps
were heard outside, and a voice dearer than all
the music of earth sounded in Robert's ears. The
door opened and Mary stood before him, as fresh
and sweet as if she had just stepped out of a
Cheshire garden on a spring morning. With one
broken cry he clasped her in his arms, and the
welcome she received that day was worth all the
tiresome weeks at sea, all the homesickness and
the peril and the long suspense.

Two days later a ship sailing home to England
carried a joint letter from Robert and Mary to
the father and mother at Dukinfield. A portion
of Mary's letter ran thus:

Having parted from you all, my aflfection felt weaned from
this world; and, there being an uncertainty whether, on my-"
arrival here, my dear friend would be alive, I felt prepared

124

A HONEYMOON IN AN OX-CART

for anything. But oh, my cup of happiness seems almost full!
Here I have found him all that my heart could desire, except
his being almost worn out with anxiety, and his very look
makes my heart ache. Our worthy friend, Mr. Melville, met
me on board and conducted me to his house, where a scene took
place such as I never wish to experience again. We have re-
ceived each other from the Lord and are happy. . . .

Robert will conclude this letter, and I will write very soon
more particularly; my time is now expired and I can say no
more. But, mother, be happy, and praise God on my account.

Robert's conclusion read in part as follows:

Dear Father and Mother:

I can noAv with more reason than in my former letter address
you with the endearing title of parents. It would be in vain
for me to call to mind the different scenes through which I
have passed, but more particularly what I felt when the sound
of your beloved daughter's arrival had reached me. It was to
me nothing less than life from the dead. My prayers an-
swered, the promises which had long been my refuge were now
fulfilled. My prayers in that respect are now turned to praise,
and surely never in my life has the hand of God been so
singularly manifested for good.

Mary, my own dear Mary, is now far distant from a land
endeared to her, being the place which gave her birth, and
which still contains a circle of friends who are entwined round
her heart, but more especially endeared as the residence of
you, dearer than all besides. She is now separated from those

125

THE MOFFAT S

scenes and from you, but let this comfort you, that, although
in a land of strangers, she is under the care of our ever-
present God, and united to one who speaks as he feels when
be promises to be father, mother, and husband to Mary, and
will never foi-get the sacrifice j-ou have made in committing to
bis future care your only daughter.

On the twenty-first of December Robert Moffat
celebrated his twenty-fourth birthday. Then fol-
lowed Christmas with its drift of memories. A
year ago there had been for Robert no hope of
Mary's coming; a year ago for Mary the great
hope had just been reborn. And now the miracle
of reunion had come to pass, and they were fac-
ing the new year together! The cro-svning event
of that anniversary week took place two days
later, when, on the twenty-seventh of December,
in St. George's Church, Cape Town, Robert
Moffat and Mary Smith were married. Dr. Philip
took the place of father to the girl whose own
father was six thousand miles away, while the
Melvilles opened their house for the wedding com-
pany, which in the ordinary course of events
would have assembled in the stone house at
Dukinfield. Though so far from home on that day
of days, there shone in the faces of the bridal pair
126

A HONEYMOON IN AN OX-CART

an ineffable happiness such as comes only from
human love made di\^ne by sacrifice.

Early in the new year three ox-wagons stood
ready for the wedding journey of seven hundred
miles to Lattakoo. One was a transport wagon
for conveying luggage: the other two were pas-
senger wagons of the usual type, resembling
somewhat the prairie schooner of the North
American frontier, though much larger. The
typical African ox-cart was about fifteen feet long
and five feet wide, with wheels several feet in
diameter, bound by massive iron rims. The sides
were made of boards, and a circular framework
covered with canvas formed the top. At the
front and back hung canvas curtains, to be raised
or lowered at the whim of the travelers or the
vagaries of the weather. The interior revealed
unexpected recesses to the unwary passenger. In
a section at the rear, fastened at either side, were
two beds, called kartels, consisting of wooden
frames and mattresses. In front was space for
such tasks as could be performed while the
springless cart jerked and bumped over the road.

To Robert and Mr. Campbell the ox-wagon was
an old story, for already they had trekked hun*

127

THE MOFFATS

dreds of miles across the African veld. But for
Mary, the cart, the oxen, and the **crew" of black
men had the zest of novelty. When Robert had
helped his wife into their cart and Mr. Campbell
had climbed into his, the drivers lashed their
long whips, the leader boys grasped the thongs
fastened to the horns of the foremost oxen, the
screwfer boys released the brakes, and the cara-
van moved on its way.

When Cape Town was left behind, they jolted
through fertile valleys and lovely mountain
scenery, making about fifteen miles a day, the
speed limit of an African ox-cart. In due time
they came to that curious desert upland known
as the Karroo, where, as Mr. Campbell said, they
must needs put on their spectacles to espy a blade
of grass ; where every plant save the mimosa had
a bluish-yellow color from the saltpeter. Here
for ten days they passed but one solitary house,
though meeting a number of wagons journeying
from the interior to the coast. It was a gipsy-
like experience ; on the road for the coolest hours
of the day, then outspanning— as unhitching is
usually called in South Africa— for a meal and
a rest. When it was excessively hot, perhaps
128

A HONEYMOON IN AN OX-CART

ninety-six degrees in the shade, they traveled by
night and rested by day. At each halt the crew
gathered fuel and placed the three-legged iron
pot over the fire.

''I like wagon traveling better than I ex-
pected," wrote Mary Moffat to her parents. '*It
is not so fatiguing. I have had none of those
hardships which I looked for. Our table is gen-
erally well spread, better than we shall look for
when we are poor missionaries; this is partly
owing to Mr. Campbell's being with us, and partly
to Robert's being well known in the country and
receiving liberal presents."

To his parents Robert wrote in this vein:

"I am happy to say that Mary stands the journey amazingly
well; she takes everything as she finds it and encounters with
ease what you would term difficulties. She has several times
asserted that she never enjoyed better health than she has since
she came to Africa. Nay, I am sometimes astonished to see
her possessed of such good spirits at times when human nature
is spent, for we have our hardships."

For Robert and Mary it was an enchanted land
of youth and love through which they were travel-
ing. They had but to look into each other's

129

THE MOFFATS

tanned and sunburnt faces to become as children
faring forth hand in hand on one of childhood's
great adventures in playland. The tug was yet
to come, but with childhood's faith in God and
each other, what need had they for fear?

Half-way across the Karroo they came to an
embryo town, now Beaufort West, then a
settlement of six houses with a missionary
and a landdrost, or magistrate, already in
residence. The latter, a Scotchman, Mr. Baird
by name, called upon the travelers as soon
as they had outspanned, inviting them to his
house for meals so long as they should stay.
When they left, he furnished them with guides
to lead the way through the tangled passes of
the Bushman country. On the very day of de-
parture two men and some twenty or thirty oxen
were seen approaching from the southeast. They
had come from Bethelsdorp, leading the oxen
which Mr. Campbell and his party had left there
the year before upon their hasty retreat to Cape
To-^^m. A message had been sent to Bethelsdorp
asking that the oxen be brought to Beaufort West
on such a date, but with the uncertainties of
African travel the timely arrival seemed provi-
130

A HONEYMOON IN AN OX-CART

dential. A day later and the party would have
been gone !

Seven weeks had passed when the travelers
came at last to the Orange River, that stream
which flows a thousand miles across continent,
rising near the Indian Ocean on the east and fall-
ing into the Atlantic on the west. They had
trekked six hundred miles over the very route
which to-day can be traversed in two days by
train from Cape Town. Happily for them the
river was low, and in the space of half an hour
oxen, wagons, and passengers were safely across.
A year before, at this very season, a woman mis-
sionary spent nine weeks waiting on the shore and
another week in crossing, the rain falling in such
wild torrents that she could not tell whether the
wagon was in the stream or out of it. The
vagaries of this river were destined to be well
known to Robert and Mary Moffat before their
African travels were over.

Four days later they came to Griqua Town, an
interesting missionary settlement founded in the
year 1804 by Mr. Anderson and Mr. Kramer.
Here Robert was on familiar ground, the scene
of his tragic adventure a year and a half before,

131

THE MOFFAT S

when he stumbled into Mr. Anderson's house,
half-crazed with thirst and hunger, having been
three days without food. How changed were the
circumstances of his second entry into Griqua
Town!

Thus far the inland journey had been a venture
of faith, because, for the second time, the colonial
governor had vetoed Robert Moffat's plans for
settling in the interior. He had insisted that
Robert become a government missionary in Kaf-
fraria, and because he declined, the governor
tried to force his acceptance by barring the way
to Lattakoo. Notwithstanding this obstacle, Mr.
Campbell was bent on making the trip, and it
seemed expedient for the Moffats to accompany
him, trusting that the ban would be lifted before
they reached the journey's end.

Beyond Griqua Town they trekked by long
stages from one fountain to the next, outspan-
ning for the last time at the source of the Kuru-
man River, a great rock, cleft by some convulsion
of past ages into mysterious caverns with bats
overhead and subterranean passages beneath,
along which the water could be heard rushing in
torrents. From such a source one would expect
132

A HONEYMOON IN AN OX-CART

a river /deep and tumultuous, but the Kuruman,
alas, was but a shallow, meandering stream.

The soft, green landscape of England was
haunting Mary Moffat's mind, as she neared her
journey's end, suggested perhaps by the more
fertile aspect of the region they were now enter-
ing. Here at last were a few scattered trees and,
yes, cornfields and gardens, but nowhere in
Africa, so she said, had she seen a wood equal to
that above the Dukinfield nursery. Seven months
it was since Mary had left her Cheshire home
to travel, without a single disaster, seven thou-
sand miles to Lattakoo, the very place which for
six years had lured her with a charm irresistible.
When John Campbell returned home from his"
first trip to Africa he had addressed a meeting
in Manchester at which Mary Smith had been
present. As he told the story of the needy black
people in Bechuanaland, the girl had breathed
the prayer, *'0h, that I might spend my days at
Lattakoo! "

What a miracle had been wrought in the space
of six brief years ! At this very moment their
ox-carts were creeping into the African village
of Lattakoo, and Mr. Campbell himself was their

133

THE M OFF ATS

companion and guide. The crowning wonder
shone in Mary's eyes as she glanced toward
Robert and then toward the huts of straw and the
black people who were swarming to greet them.
They were coming home at last, Robert and Mary,
husband and wife, home to the black man's kraal,
where a God-given task awaited them.

134

CHAPTEE IX
THE WAIT-A-BIT THORN

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

And make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating.

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If . . .

— Rudyard Kipling

135

"AT ALL
HOURS OP
THE DAY
THEIR
HUT WAS
INVADED BY
INQUISITIVE
VISITOBS."

IX
THE WAIT-A-BIT THORN

HE village of Lattakoo, otherwise known
as Mothibi's kraal, was protected from
wild beasts by a closely-set hedge of
brambles, a natural barricade equal to
the barbed-wire fence for spitefulness.
Stout, sharp thorns grew in dense ar-
ray upon these bushes, shrewdly named the ''wait-
a-bit" thorns. Curiously enough, the wait-a-bit
thorns became symbolic of the life of the brave
Scotch pioneers whom they surrounded at Latta-
koo. They had fallen into a tangle of hostility and
misunderstanding, as prickly and impenetrable as
the thorn hedge, and for days, months, even years,
were made to wait for release. Ever since the
first missionaries arrived in Lattakoo, the black
chief and his people had kept them in the bram-
bles of suspense. Both chief and people were like
spoiled children clamoring perpetually for fresh
toys to play with, and the newcomers were vic-
tims of their whims and caprices.
When John Campbell first visited the Batlap-

137

THE M OFF ATS

ing tribe of the Bechuana race, Mothibi, the chief,
had said to him in all seriousness, ''Send mis-
sionaries; I will be a father to them." Stirred
by this promise and the prospect of thousands of
people reached by the gospel message, Mr. Camp-
bell had returned to England and pleaded for the
mission at Lattakoo. In town and city his voice
was heard in its moving appeal for the black peo-
ple of Bechuanaland.

In the year 1815 four young men had responded
to Mr. Campbell's call for recruits and set sail
for South Africa under appointment of the Lon-
don Missionarj^ Society. Two of these men, Mr.
Evans and Mr. Hamilton, trekked bravely over the
road from Cape Town to Lattakoo, cheered on
their way by thought of the welcome they would
receive at the journey's end. One day in Feb-
ruary their ox-carts drew up in the public square
of Mothibi 's village while the chief with a num-
ber of his followers came forward and shook
hands. To their utter amazement Mothibi greeted
them with the question, "What have you brought
for barter?" The interpreter, who had accom-
panied them from Griqua Town, explained that
these two men were the missionaries whom Mr.
138

TEE WAIT-A-BIT THORN

Campbell had promised to send and Mothibi had
promised to receive. At this announcement the
chief's face grew stormy, and the subordinate
chiefs who had gathered around muttered and
gesticulated ominously. A disconcerting recep-
tion it was for men who had traveled seven thou-
sand miles to answer the call of the heathen chief !
Gifts of beads and other articles served to
''sweeten the heart," as the Africans say, and
again the interpreter alluded to the promise
Mothibi had made.

"They may stay and help me fight," answered
the chief warily, ''but they want water, much
water ; there is no water ; there are no trees ; the
people have customs and will not hear."

For two days Mothibi kept the missionaries
waiting for his final verdict upon their case. One
minute he declared they could stay, and the next'
that they must go. At last the matter was re-
ferred to a council of the people whom he bade
"speak their minds."

"The missionaries must not come here," cried
the people.

"The missionaries must not come here,"
echoed the chief.

139

THE MOFFATS

Before they could yoke their oxen and escape,
the villagers crowded around the cart begging
noisily for gifts. A jeering mob chased them
through an opening in the thorn hedge, shouting,
"Away with the white people, away with the
white people!"

Back to Griqua To^vn went Mr. Hamilton and
Mr. Evans, ''pursued, yet not forsaken; per-
plexed, yet not unto despair." There they waited
and watched for further change in Mothibi's fickle
mind. As the days went by, Mr. Evans became
disheartened and returned to the Colony. Mr.
Hamilton, with quiet determination, continued to
wait, praying and believing that in time Mothibi
would consent to receive him. Meanwhile he was
obliged to go to the Cape for supplies, and upon
his return with purchases made in the shops at
Cape Town, the greedy Mothibi promptly changed
his tactics and bade him come to Lattakoo.

Thus it came about that Mr. Hamilton had
spent some four harassed years among the Bat-
lapings at Lattakoo when Mr. Campbell and the
Moffats came to relieve his loneliness. For sev-
eral months Robert Moffat and his bride lived in
one mud-walled, mud-floored room, while Mr.
140

THE WAIT-A-BIT THORN

Campbell made a venturesome journey to the
Bahurutse tribe, two hundred miles to the north-
east. When his work of prospecting was done
and he was ready to return to the Cape, the
Moffats also made preparations to depart, for
they too were denied permission to remain at Lat-
takoo. This time it was not the heathen chief,
Mothibi, who refused shelter to the missionaries,
but the English governor at Cape Town who
withheld his consent.

As they were busily packing for the journey,
there crept into the village out of the west a
strange ox-cart bearing the marks of long, hard
travel. A tall, sinewy African, with the manner
and bearing of a chieftain, alighted from the cart
and inquired for the missionary, Mr. Moffat. A
proud moment it was for Robert Moffat when he
led Mary to the scene and presented to her his
old friend Afrikaner. Yes, Afrikaner it surely
was, who had come over the long trail from Great
Namaqualand to fuM the promise made to his
missionary before they parted in Cape Town.
Stowed away in the wagon were the books and
furniture belonging to Mr. Moffat, and corralled
near by were his oxen and sheep, the entire prop-

141

TBE MOFFATS

erty guarded and transported by the one-time
bandit, Afrikaner. His arrival was another of
those timely occurrences in which the watchful
care of God could be traced, seeking to save his
children disappointment and loss. A day or two
later and the missionaries would have been gone
down the southbound route to Griqua Town!

As it was, the little company set forth together,
Afrikaner traveliiig with them as far as Daniel's
Kuil, the half-way point. There he left them to
pursue his lonely way across the desert, the re-
turn seeming far longer and harder without the
anticipation which had lightened the outward
journey. These were days of severed companion-
ships, for the parting with Afrikaner was but the
foreshadowing of another to take place at Griqua
Town. There John Campbell would leave them
to go on his way to Cape Towti and thence home
to old England. A delightful companion he had
been through all the vicissitudes of African
travel; beguiling the slow hours with his quaint
touches of humor; ready always "to endure hard-
ship as a good soldier of Jesus Christ." In-
stinctively Robert and Mary drew closer to each
other and closer yet into the covert of their
142

THE WAIT-A-BIT THORN

Father's love, under the buffetings of their
pioneer life in Africa.

As the ox-carts came into the vicinity of Griqua
Town, a messenger approached with a letter in
his hand. It was a letter from the Colony say-
ing that at last the governor had given permis-
sion for the Moffats to settle at Lattakoo. Free
at last to make their home where they most de-
sired,— but not free to return at once to the
coveted spot ! The Griqua mission was in trou-
bled condition, and Robert was asked to remain
for a time to help unravel the snarl of difficulties.

Robert and Mary had been married a twelve-
month when sorrow and joy in close succession
visited their humble home at Griqua Town. The
young wife was stricken with a terrible illness
from which it was thought she could never re-
cover. With white, tortured face her husband
watched by her bedside trying to catch her broken
messages of farewell. ^'Weeping may tarry for
the night, but joy cometh in the morning."
Morning for them was the spring of the year, and
joy was the return and the advent of life. When
April flung its dazzling sunlight into the bare lit-
tle room in the mission house, Mary Moffat held

143

THE MOFFAT S

in her arms a baby girl called by her own name.
Did any guardian angel whisper to the father
and mother aught of the wonderful destiny which
awaited that tiny bit of girlhood far out in the
years to come?

In May, 1821, the little family returned in their
ox-cart to Lattakoo, there to begin housekeeping
in their o^vn home. Until Robert could build a
comfortable house for his wife and child, they
lived in an ordinary Bechuana hut, with the
peaked roof and the sloping walls of straw. Into
that primitive home, problems and perils fell like
a rain of hailstones. At all hours of the day their
hut was invaded by inquisitive visitors, who
talked in loud tones or stretched out on the mud
floor for a nap, and who seized warily any object
which pleased their childish fancy. Sometimes
the hut was crowded to suffocation, and the
young wife held a prisoner in her own dwelling.
Moreover, it was an African fashion to daub the
body w^ith grease and red ocher, so that every-
thing the visitors touched, from the baby's clothes
to the dinner table, was smeared in like manner.
Many a day the Moffats postponed their dinner
for hours in the hope that their greasy, red-hued
144

THE WAIT-A-BIT THORN

guests would depart. A vain hope it was, for the
Beehuanas found much amusement in the customs
of the foreigners. All efforts to keep the food
and household articles clean were greeted with
noisy laughter. The idea of using water for
cleanliness was ludicrous, and the English mode
of dress worse than senseless. "Why," said they,
' ' should a person put his legs and arms into bags ?
Why use buttons to fasten clothes around one's
body when they could just as well be suspended as
ornaments from the neck or hair!" Why, in fact,
be a serious-minded Englishman when it is so
much easier to be an irresponsible African?

One day Mrs. Motfat found a native woman in
her little outside kitchen and humbly asked her
to leave, that she might close the room before
going to church. For answer the woman seized
a piece of wood to hurl at Mrs. Moffat's head.
Needless to say she was left in undisputed posses-
sion of the kitchen and all it contained. On an-
other occasion a native girl who was tending little
Mary took offense at some reproof and flung the
baby across the hut at its mother's head. As-
suredly there was no humdrum about life in an
African kraal.

145

THE 3I0FFATS

Worst of all grievances that the missionaries
had to endure was the universal native habit of
stealing. A shrewd device was to wait until the
missionaries had gone to the little church which
Mr. Hamilton had built, then to thrust a black
head within the door to discover who was in the
pulpit, and knowing he could not leave for a given
time, dart off to his hut to capture, mayhap, his
dearest possessions. Knives, metal spoons, saws,
and axes disappeared with magic swiftness, and
their loss was keenly felt when the nearest shop
was some hundred miles away. If the tools
proved to be of unexpected metal, the thieves
would bring them back beaten into all sorts of
shapes and offer them in barter for other articles.
Many a day when the missionary was working at
a distance and no one was left at home, he would
be obliged to carry every tool and kitchen utensil
he valued, knowing well that they would other-
wise be spirited away before his return.

Once Mr. Hamilton toiled for hours grind-
ing corn between two millstones which turned
by hand. From the meal thus secured he made
a huge loaf of bread, which he calculated would
last a week at least. Upon returning from
146

THE WAIT-A-BIT THORN

chapel in the evening he promised himself a feast
of home-made bread, a feast which turned out to
be but a mockery of anticipation, for a thief had
forced open the one tiny window and made off
with the precious loaf. More than once he re-
turned home to find a stone left in the pot in place
of the meat he had been cooking for dinner.

Whenever Mr. Hamilton and Eobert Moffat
met in the morning or evening, they recounted the
losses of the day before. Once it was a tale about
a fine draught ox killed in the cattle-fold, and the
whole carcass, except one shoulder, carried away.
Again it was an account of sheep with legs broken
and tails cut off; sometimes, a flock reduced to
half its rightful size. On other mornings it was
a story of cattle driven into a bog, and the "acci-
dent," as it was called, reported too late to prevent
some of the herd falling prey to hungry hyenas or
hungrier natives. As Robert said, "We always
had some tale to tell about our losses, but never
about our gains, except those of patience and
faith in the unchangeable purposes of God. ' '

The sliest and most pernicious of all the thefts
was perpetrated by the women, instigated by the
chief's wife, Mahuto. They stole the one posses-

147

THE MOFFATS

sion most essential to life, even the water supply
which the missionaries at great labor had pro-
vided for themselves and their families. In the
early days of the mission Mr. Hamilton and Mr.
Read, who took Mr. Evans' place, toiled indefat-
igably to dig a ditch to carry water from the
Kuruman River to the gardens which the chief
had given them. In that light, sandy soil no veg-
etables would grow save by constant irrigation,
and vegetables must be had to relieve that noxious
diet of meat and milk. The watercourse led for
some miles from the river across the plains and
through the native gardens on its way to the mis-
sionaries' property. Perceiving the advantages
of the plan, the w^omen proceeded to cut openings
in the ditch, thereby flooding their own gardens
and depriving the missionaries even of the needed
supply for cooking. Every afternoon at three
o'clock, the hottest hour of the day, either Robert
or Mr. Hamilton set forth, spade in hand, to close
the outlets the women had opened, hoping their
drooping gardens might be revived during the
night. The women, meanwhile, were on the watch
for the missionary's return from his three-mile
tramp, whereupon they slipped out and opened
148

Photo. London Missionary Society

Plioto. London Missionary Society

" THE SMOKE OF A THOUSAND VILLAGES "
WITHIN A BECHUANA KKAAL

TBE WAIT-A-BIT THORN^

the outlets that he had closed. For days the mis-
sionaries were left without a drop of water except
what they carried from a fountain a long distance
away. During those days the thermometer regis-
tered one hundred and twenty degrees in the
shade ! Remonstrance only brought worse disas-
ter, for the women, like peevish children, rushed
out to the dam where the water was diverted from
the river and with their picks completely de-
stroyed it, allowing the stream to flow undisturbed
in its original bed.

Housekeeping in a Bechuana kraal was quite
another story from what it was in the village
where Mary Smith was born and bred. If
you were an English girl in Africa, and if your
neighbors hated you without cause, if stony hills
and sandy plains wearied your eyes with their
glare, if grass were the color of straw, and veg-
etables and cattle died of thirst, then would you
sigh for the velvety green meadows of England,
where the cows were sleek and fat and the flowers
a riot of bloom, where life was clean and whole-
some, and people were friendly to you? Would
you rebel at your wretched fate and determine to
break your fetters, or would you be wistful, per-

149

THE M OFF ATS

haps a trifle homesick, but hopeful, oh, sturdily
hopeful, that some day a piece of green, friendly,
Christian England might be transplanted into
black, dismal Africa? But if you, a simple day
laborer, should by your pains have made that
transplanting possible, would you mind about the
"labors and watchings and fastings" which once
jou had to endure?

150

CHAPTER X
BLACK BUGBEAES

I am ready not to be bound only, but also to die . . . for the
name of the Lord Jesus. — Saint Paul.

" THERE ON THE
FLOOR SAT HIS
WIFE, SHAKING
A MILK-SACK."

X

BLACK BUGBEARS

[ELA KA RARE (Halloo, by my father),
I thought you were making rain." Au
excited black man burst into the rain-
maker's hut at Lattakoo, exclaiming in
surprise at the sight which met his eyes.
He had come to congratulate the rain-
maker upon the success of his arts, and here he
was sound asleep, totally unconscious of the
shower which had just fallen upon the cracked
and withered land. Where now was his boasted
skill in producing rain, when he did not even know
the rain had fallen?

Awaking from his untimely nap, the rain-
maker saw at once the embarrassment of his posi-
tion and looked about for means of explaining the
situation. There on the floor sat his wife shaking
a milk-sack to obtain a little butter for anointing
her hair. Pointing to her, he said with ill-
concealed triumph, ^'Do you not see my wife
churning rain as fast as she can?" What a sim-
ple, adequate explanation! Through the village

153

TEE MOFFATS

sped the news, ''the rain-maker has churned the
shower out of a milk-sack." The very simplicity
of the device increased the magic of the achieve-
ment in the minds of the gullible Africans.

For many months the region about Lattakoo
had been a ''dry and thirsty land where no water
was." Scarcely a cloud appeared in the sky, and
the sun shed a yellow, sickening glare upon a
blighted world. Grass became as stubble. Seeds
lay in the ground as they had fallen from the
hand of the sower. For lack of pasturage the
cows gave no milk and were slowly dying of hun-
ger. Mere skeletons of human beings dragged
themselves to the fields in search of unsavory
roots and reptiles to preserve life. Endurance
had reached the breaking-point when, in council
assembled, the people resolved to send for the
famous rain-maker who lived among the Bahu-
rutse tribe two hundred miles to the northeast.
His craft would break the evil spell of drought
which had fastened upon the land. Swift messeoi-
gers were despatched with orders not to return
without the rain-maker. When the allotted time
for the journey elapsed and the messengers did
not return, rumor had it that they were murdered.
154

BLACK BUGBEARS

Then black gloom settled upon the people of Lat-
takoo, while the burning sunshine fell relentlessly
upon their tousled heads.

One day a great shout was raised, and the whole
village tumbled out in commotion. The rain-
maker was coming and had sent a forerunner to
bid the people prepare for his entry by washing
their feet. One and all, old and young, sick and
well, hurried to the river to perform his bidding.
At this juncture dark clouds gathered in the sky,
and the villagers rushed forth in wildest excite-
ment to meet the rain-maker, who, as they sup-
posed, was collecting in the heavens his prodigious
stores of rain. As he descended the hill into Lat-
takoo, lightning flashed and thunder roared, while^
the black people danced and shouted until the
earth fairly reverberated with the clamor. ' ' Plant
your gardens upon the hills," cried the rain-
maker with pompous satisfaction, ''for the valleys
will be deluged with water." A few heavy drops,
of rain fell, demonstrating the sorcerer's skill and
increasing the din of ecstatic shouting. A wild,
heathenish scene it was, not soon to be forgotten
by the little group of Christian missionaries who
watched from a distance.

155

THE MOFFAT S

"\Mien the uproar had subsided, a few bold
spirits left the crowd and strode to the dwellings
of the missionaries. "Where is your God?" they
cried with a sneer. ''Have you not seen our
Morimo ? Have you not beheld him cast from his
arm his fiery spears and rend the heavens ? Have
you not heard with your ears his voice in the
clouds? You talk of Jehovah and Jesus; what
can they do?" Heathenism was let loose that
fateful day, and in its presence the Christians
were discreetly silent. "Be still, and know that
I am God : I w^ill be exalted among the heathen. ' '
These were the words which rang dominantly in,
the mind of Eobert Moffat in that chaotic hour.

Such was the entry into Lattakoo of the illus-
trious rain-maker who afterwards slept in his hut
while the shower he was supposedly creating fell
outside. For reasons not difficult to comprehend
his arts were less successful on the sandy hills and
plains of Lattakoo than in the mountain wilds of
the Bahurutse, near the sources of the great
rivers. "Secret rogues are disobeying my proc-
lamations," he declared after several ignominious
failures to produce rain. "You only give me
sheep and goats to kill ; therefore, I can only make
156

BLACK BUGBEARS'

goat-rain ; give me fat slaughter oxen, and I shall
let you see ox-rain." Where indeed were ''fat
slaughter oxen" to be found in that famine-
stricken land?

Goaded to desperation, the rain-maker resorted
to one trick after another whereby to gain
time until the blessed rain should fall. Whenever
stray clouds appeared, he would command the
women not to plant or sow lest they should scare
the timorous clouds away. He would bid them
go to the fields and gather certain roots and
herbs, wherewith he would light his mysterious
fires on the hillsides. Warily would he choose
the time of new or full moon for his machinations,
knowing well that atmospheric changes were
likely to come at those seasons, if at all. His most
ipreposterous demand was for a live baboon upon
whose body not a blemish should be found, not
even a single hair missing. None knew better
than the rain-maker the impossibility of the task
assigned. Nevertheless, chosen runners hastened
to the mountains to leap from rock to rock in mad
pursuit of the elusive baboon. Finally one was'
caught and brought in triumph to the rain-maker.
With a tragic expression upon his face he ex-

157

THE MOFFAT S

claimed : * ' My heart is rent in pieces ; I am dumb
with grief. Did I not tell you," pointing with dis-
guised satisfaction to the animal's scratched ear
and tail, * ' that I could not make rain if there was
one hair wanting?"

At last the rain-maker made a great discovery,
which he announced with due solemnity. The'
clouds required strong medicine, and only the
heart of a lion would do the business. Procure
him a lion's heart, and he would make rain so
abundant that whole towns might be swept away;
with the flood. Soon after this proclamation a
lion attacked one of the cattle outposts, and hunt-
ers went out to kill the foe and procure medicine
for the clouds at the same time. Severe orders
were laid upon them to bring the lion's heart/
whatever the consequences. Fortunately, one or
their number carried a gun and shot the furious
beast before the hunters were injured. In a tri-
umphal procession they returned to the kraal
bearing the lion's heart and singing the conquer-
or's song in lusty chorus. Upon the hilltop could
be seen the rain-maker, concocting his medicines,
kindling his weird fires, and stretching forth his-
puny hands toward the clouds, beckoning and
158

BLACK BUGBEARS

cajoling, or else threatening with vengeance if
they dared disobey. And yet the rain, the
precious rain, was withheld. ''There is a cause
for the hard-heartedness of the clouds, if only the
rain-maker could find it out," remarked the chief's
uncle significantly.

It was not long before the ''cause" was discov-
ered and with due ceremony announced to the
offenders. Some weeks before, Eobert and Mary
Moffat had returned from a trip to Griqua Town
and had transported in their wagon a bag of salt !
That bag of salt had frightened the rain away. It
is a wise adult who takes childhood seriously, and
they were wise missionaries who never once
laughed at the folly of their child neighbors, but
received in all gravity their ridiculous charges.
The bag was produced and opened in the presence
of Mothibi and his attendants. "There it is," ex-
claimed the chief gleefully, as he saw the white
contents. When upon further examination the
supposed salt was found to be only white clay or
chalk, the black people went away laughing at
their own credulity.

For a long time the missionaries had been
objects of suspicion, and the marvel was that they

159

THE MOFFATS

had not been accused before. On every occasion
they had pointed out to the rain-maker and the
people the folly of their beliefs, at the same time
proclaiming fearlessly the great realities of God's
creation and control of the universe. "Maka hela"
(only lies), retorted the people vehemently. Dis-
trust at last broke its bounds, and curses were
hurled at Mr. Hamilton and Robert Moffat as the
cause of all the drought and misery. Their church
bell and their prayers had frightened the clouds
away, *' Don't you," said the chief, glaring
fiercely at Moffat, ''bow down in your house and
talk to something bad in the ground?" A coun-
cil was held forthwith, and restrictions were laid
upon the missionaries to which they refused sub-
mission, arguing that the site of the mission had
been given them unconditionally.

At first the rain-maker seemed to avoid open
accusation of the white men, restrained, perhaps,
by a feeling of indebtedness because his wife had
benefited by their medicines. He himself had
held half-friendly intercourse with the foreigners,
going occasionally to their houses and workshop,
even to the church itself, and once or twice verging
upon frankness in his conversation.
160

BLACK BUGBEAR^

''What am I to do to pacify the people?" he
asked one day in despair.

''Be an honest man," answered Moffat, "and
confess you have been misleading them and your-
self as well."

"They will kill me," he said, and went away
sorrowful. At his wits' end to continue the
fraud, the rain-maker now added his reproaches
to the general furor against the missionaries.

"Do you not see," he proclaimed in the public
fold, "that, when clouds come over us, Hamilton
and Moffat look at them? Their white faces
dispel the clouds in fright. No rain can be ex-
pected while they are in the country."

Being informed of their misdemeanor, the mis-
sionaries agreed to look upon the ground all day
long if so doing would mend matters.

Strangely enough, the venom of the people
veered suddenly from the missionaries to the rain-
maker himself, who became the object of their
bitterest hatred. Hearing that some one was to
be speared and suspecting that the rain-maker
was the intended victim, Moffat resolved to verify
his suspicions and save the man's life, if possible.
To ferret out a secret of that nature was no easy

161

THE M OFF ATS

matter, but Moffat hit upon a plan which worked
like a charm. In the kraal was a woman of influ-
ence, likely to be informed of the plot, who had
often received the missionaries' remedies for her
ailments. To her hut he went and, having en-
gaged her in conversation about her health, re-
marked in the most casual manner: *'Why are
they thinking of killing the rain-maker? They
surely do not intend to eat him. Why not let the
poor man go to his own land?"

"Who told you?" asked the woman abruptly,
falling at once into the trap. Possessed of the
elusive secret, Moffat made his way to the public
fold where about thirty leading men sat in council.
In no uncertain tones he charged them with the
crime they were about to commit, accusing them
of having made a god of a mere man and then,
because he failed to please them, plotting to kill
him. An aged man arose quivering with rage
and, alluding to the lean herds, the starving
people, and the cattle which the rain-maker had
devoured, vowed he would plunge his spear into
the rain-maker's heart and no one should hinder
him. That a man should labor to save the life of
his enemy, as their missionary was doing, was be-
162

BLACK BUGBEARS

yond comprehension, as were the stories that he
persistently told them about a certain Jesus
Christ. What sort of being, forsooth, was this
white foreigner who persuaded them against their
will? In the council of death the missionary's
voice prevailed, and the rain-maker's life was
saved. Mothibi himself conducted him over the
plain to the Matlwaring River, returning, like a
child conscious of meritorious conduct, to the mis-
sionaries for the praise they did not withhold.

The departure of the rain-maker seemed to be
the signal for further persecution of the mission-
aries. Every mishap was laid at their door, and
their teachings were received with savage cries
of "maka hela." If a Griqua hunting in the
country overstepped the bounds, his misdeeds
were charged to the missionaries. If a native
of Lattakoo went to visit in Griqualand and
was ill-treated, the missionaries should have pre-
vented it. One blazing noonday a chief with a
retinue of attendants approached the mission
premises and sat down under the shade of a large
tree close by the Moffats' house. Something sin-
ister and menacing was suggested by their ap-
pearance. Out in the field, under pretense of a

163

THE 2WFFATS

hunt, a secret council had been held, and these
men had come, a deputation from that body, to
inform the missionaries of the decision reached.
Moffat was occupied in repairing his wagon near
by, but upon hearing that an important commu-
nication was to be delivered, he summoned Mr.
Hamilton, and the two waited quietly for the ver-
dict to be pronounced. In the door of their cot-
tage stood Mrs. Moffat, the baby in her arms, in-
tently watching the crucial scene before her. The
spokesman stepped forward, assuming an atti-
tude almost impressive as his spear quivered in
his right hand. The chiefs had determined, so
he said, that the missionaries should leave the
country. Hitherto their warnings had been disre-
garded, but if disobedience continued, violent
measures would be used to enforce their command.
Upon hearing these words, Robert Moffat drew
himself to the full height of his tall figure and
made answer in ringing tones :

''If you are resolved to rid yourselves of us,
you must resort to stronger measures, for our
hearts are with you. You may shed blood or burn
us out. We know you will not touch our wives
and children. Then shall they who sent us know,
164

BLACK BUGBEARS

and God, who now sees and hears what we do, shall
know that we have been persecuted indeed."

There was an answering fire in Mary Moffat's
eyes as she looked proudly at her husband and
then wonderingly at the black faces which con-
fronted him. Glancing around upon his com-
panions, the chief shook his head significantly.
^* These men must have ten lives," said he, "since
they are so fearless of death ; there must be some-
thing in immortality."

Thus saying, he turned away, and the whole
company broke ranks and dispersed. About these
missionaries was a touch of that matchless hero-
ism which once awed a band of Roman soldiers
into saying, ** Never man spake like this man."

165

CHAPTER XI
''THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN'^

Take up the white man's burden;

Ye dare not stoop to less,
Nor call too loud on Freedom

To cloak your weariness;
By all ye cry or whisper,

By all ye leave or do,
The silent, sullen peoples

Shall weigh your God and you.

— Rudyard Kipling-

" LITTLE MABY MOFFAT
. . . HAND IN HAND
WITH DICKY . . .
HEE PLAYMATE."

XI

''THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN"

UVERY day the little Mary Moffat was
making new contacts with her baby
world, picking up English and African
words to add to her mixed vocabulary,
toddling with adventurous steps about
her father's garden, hand in hand with
Dicky and Ann, her playmates. Now Dicky and
Ann were odd playmates for a little English girl,
for they were real little Bushmen straight from
the wilds. By the strangest of fortunes they had
come to dwell with the English family at Lat-
takoo.

One day Robert Moffat was jolting along in his
ox-cart when he came upon a group of Bushmen
digging a grave for a woman of their tribe. Near
by a small girl and smaller boy watched with
scared faces. To his horror Moffat saw that they
were intending to bury the living children with
their dead mother. ''Give them to me," he en-
treated, and forthwith the black boy and girl were
handed over to their new sponsor, who took them

169

THE M OFF ATS

home to Ma-Mary (mother of Mary), as the
natives called Mrs. Moffat. Ma-Mary always had
a welcome for homeless bairns, and the little Bush-
man waifs were received at once into the family,
to be called Dicky and Ann. It was not long
before Ann became a trusty nurse for the small
Mary and, by and by, for another little white child,
who came in the year 1823 to add her baby prattle
to the household life. She, too, was named Ann,
for her Scotch grandmother, that dark-eyed, won-
derful woman who had played such a vital part
in her own son's life. Little Ann Moffat came
into a troubled world at a particularly troubled
season, but to the Moffat children then and always
their father and mother were like resourceful
giants who could fend off foe and disaster from
their defenseless flock. In this childlike conjec-
ture they were not far from the simple truth for
Africa had made Eobert and Mary Moffat heroic.
The village of Lattakoo was still stricken with
drought and famine when a new terror added its
sting to the general misery. A frightful enemy
was approaching stealthily from the east, "eating
up" all the tribes on the line of march. A
mighty woman named Mantatee was said to be
170

''THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN''

leading the black host, as many as the locusts in
number. Her magic power supplied the army with
food and sent out swarms of real locusts as ad-
vance agents of destruction. Desolation and
ruin were left in her trail. Such were the fan-
tastic tales which drifted into Lattakoo, to be dis-
cussed excitedly in the pitshos, or public meetings,
and in informal palavers, for, like the Athenians
in the days of Saint Paul, the Africans in the
days of Robert Moffat *' spent their time in noth-
ing else but either to tell or to hear some new
thing." Only the sharp pinch of hunger or the
weary drag of sleep could quell the African pas-
sion for talk.

Among all the grotesque reports of impending
disaster who could discern the hidden germ of
truth? Not the native peoples, for some believed
and some disdained and no one knew for a cer-
tainty. From his own observations Moffat came
to the conclusion that the tyrant Chaka, chief
of the Zulus, was waging his destructive warfare
somewhere to the eastward and that his bloody
conquests formed the basis of the fabulous stories
which were told. As Chaka was too far away to
be a menace to the Bechuanas, Moffat resolved

171

THE M OFF ATS

to carry out a project he had formed some months
before.

About two hundred miles to the north of Latta-
koo lived a notorious chief of a notorious tribe,
Makaba of the Bangwaketsi. So masterful were
this chief and his people that the Batlapings
feared them exceedingly, even as they feared the
woman Mantatee and her half-mythical army.
Scarcely could they mention the name of Makaba
without a curse, such a hated enemy had he be-
come. Yet Moffat, with true missionary zeal, was
bent on visiting Makaba in his own domains. His
inclination to go was seconded by Makaba 's invi-
tation to come, and accordingly he made prepara-
tions for the journey. As soon as his intentions
became known, Mothibi and the Batlapings furi-
ously opposed his going. Out of memory and
imagination they conjured all the murders Ma-
kaba had committed, all the evil deeds the tribe
had done. Swearing by their king and their
fathers, they declared that, should he go, his doom
was fixed, for he would never come back. Ma-
Mary and the two children might as well depart
at once for England, for never again would they
see husband and father.
172

" THE WRITE MAN'S BURDEN "

But it would take more than grisly predictions
to deter Robert Moffat when once his purpose was
fixed. With Mr. Hamilton he had prayed and
deliberated, and both were convinced that the jour-
ney was timely and right; in fact, a part of God's
plan for the development of the mission. If suc-
cessful, three important results would be secured.
The Batlapings and Bangwaketsi would be
brought into friendly relations and a clash pre-
vented. The chieftainship of Jesus Christ would
be proclaimed to a tribe of more than ordinary
intelligence and prowess. And finally Moffat
would learn the Bechuana language more rapidly
by the long period of association with the black
people exclusively.

As a last attempt to defeat his plan, Mothibi
forbade some of his escort to accompany him. So
it was with a depleted band of attendants that
Robert Moffat turned away from Lattakoo to
face the rigors of an African journey without the
one companion who for more than three years
had lightened every long jaunt into the wilder-
ness. Since coming to Africa, Mary Moffat had
made it a rule, whenever possible, to join her hus-
band in the ox-cart for every journey outlasting

173

THE M OF FATS

two days. Without Mary, Eobert would not take
pains to make himself comfortable, and he had
had enough of that rugged life in Namaqualand,
so she said. But this time she must stay at home
with her babies, and he must go forth with his
black men, and, as it was of old in England, the
staying and the waiting were harder tasks to per-
form than the dangerous feats which fell to the lot
of the traveler. Yet in the little reed house at
Lattakoo it was not as grievous to be left behind
as it once was in the stone house at Dukinfield, for
there was solace in the wife's loneliness which the
maiden sadly missed.

Three days of wagon travel brought Moffat to
Old Lattakoo, or Letakong, the former home of the
Batlaping tribe from which they had migrated to
Lattakoo. At Letakong the air was full of the
same old rumors concerning a fierce and mysteri-
ous enemy on the march toward Bechuanaland.
Pushing on to Nokaneng, twenty miles further,
they found the vague rumors supplanted by defi-
nite reports of the enemy's presence. It was
said that the Barolongs of Kunwana, one hundred
miles beyond, had been attacked, and their town
captured by the Mantatees. Still the report was
174

"THE WRITE MAN'S BURDEN"

unverified, for spies had been sent out and re-
turned with no further news to confirm the tale.
To gain reliable information, as well as to con-
tinue the journey, Moffat and his companions
proceeded to Mosita, fifteen miles from the town
reported to be in possession of the Mantatees.
Halting there, they prepared the meat of a
rhinoceros they had shot and watched for signs
of the enemy's presence. As near as they were
to Kunwana, silence and mystery were at first
the only answer to their watch and inquiry. Such
was the tribal isolation in the olden times in
Africa !

After a delay of two days they were ready to
discard all the rumors as myths of heathen fancy
and to proceed comfortably on their way to the
Bangwaketsi, w^hen suddenly two men of the
Barolong tribe ran excitedly into Mosita with a
tale to tell which answered all questions and
quelled all doubts. Over beyond the hills, which
were plainly visible, lay encamped the great black
enemy, even that fabulous host which for more
than a year had terrified the tribes of Bechuana-
land. A real and palpable foe they were, for the
men had seen them with their own eyes and had

175

THE MOFFAT S

run for dear life when the Mantatees swept like
a horde of destruction into Kunwana. Lattakoo
was to be the next object of attack, so these wit-
nesses affirmed.

For Moffat and his companions the news
brought a smft reversal of plans. Back to Latta-
koo they must go at the utmost speed the creaking
ox-cart could attain, haunted by the awful fear
that the Mantatees might outstrip them and begin
their deadly work before the Batlapings were
warned and prepared.

Surprise and consternation seized the people of
Lattakoo when they saw their missionary return-
ing through the thorn hedge and heard the tidings
he brought. A public meeting was held, that Mof-
fat might recount the information he had gath-
ered about the approaching enemy. AVhen he fin-
ished speaking, a pall of gloom settled upon the
black audience. Finally Mothibi arose and be-
spoke the gratitude of his people that Moffat had
been tlogo e thata (hard-headed) and had pursued
the journey in defiance of their wishes, for by so
doing he had made timely discovery of their
danger. What should they do to save their homes
from ruin, their tribe from extinction? With one
176

''THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN"

accord they turned to the missionary for advice.
"Seek aid of the Griquas," he counseled," for they
have guns and horses." If the people desired, he
would go himself to Griqua Town and beseech the
chief, Waterboer, to come to their help.

His offer was readily accepted, and Moffat
started at once for Griqua Town, traveling per-
force by ox-cart, since horses there were none.
Upon learning the missionary's errand, Water-
boer, the chief, mounted his horse and rode away
to Campbell to rally the people there for a united
stand against the common foe. It was the opinion
of the Griquas that the combined forces should go
forth and encounter the enemy at a distance,
rather than wait for them to approach and attack
the home towns. "With the promise that the
Griquas, as soon as mobilized, would come to Lat-
takoo, Moffat hastened home to reassure the Bat-
lapings, who were panic-stricken and helpless in
his absence. The Griqua mode of resistance met
with approval, and all the neighboring tribes,
Batlaros, Barolongs, Bakotus, and Bamairis, were
summoned to a pitsho to be held on the morrow in
the public fold at Lattakoo.

At ten o'clock in the morning of the thirteenth

177

THE M OFF ATS

day of June, the warriors assembled, one thousand
strong, and marched in a body to the public fold,
singing war songs, fighting mock battles, and ges-
ticulating wildly as they went along. Arriving at
the fold, they took their seats on the ground in a
circle, leaving an open arena in the center for the
speakers. Each man held a glistening shield to
which a number of spears were fastened. A quiver
of poisoned arrows hung from each black shoul-
der, and each right hand brandished a battle-
ax. Some wore tiger skins and tails, and brightly
colored plumes waved from many a black head.
It was a primitive council of war, with the pictur-
esqueness of shining armor and startling color
contrasts vivified by outbursts of elemental pas-
sion in song and dance and frenzied motion.

''Be silent, ye Batlapings. Be silent, ye Baro-
longs," proclaimed the first speaker, addressing
every tribe individually. To each salutation
came a groan in response. Then, pointing his
spear in the direction of the enemy, he uttered
curse upon curse and ended by thrusting his spear
repeatedly toward the invisible foe. This was the
tribal declaration of war, to which the audience
responded by a loud, whistling sound of applause.
178

« TRE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN "

After each speech a verse of a war song was sung,
the wild dance renewed, and silence again en-
joined.

''To-day we are called upon to oppose an enemy
who is the enemy of all." Thus spoke Moshume
from the center of the fold: "Mr. Moffat has been
near the camp of the enemy; we all opposed his
going ; we are to-day all glad that he went ; he did
not listen to us; he has warned us and the Gri-
quas. What are we now to do? If we flee, they
will overtake us; if we fight, they will conquer;
they are as strong as a lion ; they kill and eat, and
leave nothing. I know ye, Batlapings, that at
home and in the face of women ye are men, but
women in the face of the enemy; ye are ready
to run when you should stand; think, think, and
prepare your hearts this day; be united in one;
make your hearts hard."

This challenge was followed by the exhortation
of an aged chief, who spoke words like these:
"The missionary has discovered our danger like
the rising sun after a dark night ; a man sees the
danger he was in when darkness shut his eyes.
"We must not act like Bechuanas ; we must act like
Mdkooas (white people). Is this our pitshof

179

THE MOFFAT S

No, it is the pitsho of the missionary; therefore,
we must speak and act like Makooas/'

Several speakers harangued the assembly in
turn, after which Mothibi, the chief, spoke the
concluding words. *'Ye warriors, prepare for the
battle; let your shields be strong, your quivers
full of arrows, and your battle-axes sharp as
hunger." When his speech was ended, wild en-
thusiasm swept the audience, followed by a pan-
demonium of excitement lasting nearly two hours.
Women snatched weapons from the men and
brandished them frantically, while old and young
gesticulated and danced in an abandon of frenzy.
Meanwhile the great, grim danger which threat-
ened was well-nigh forgotten in the deluded en-
thusiasm for war.

180

CHAPTER XII
THE WAR CRY OF THE MANTATEES

The sword of Jehovah and of Gideon !

— Judges vii. 20

" WATEBBOEE,
THE
GBIQUA
CHIEF."

xn

THE WAR CRY OF THE MANTATEES

■Jt LEVEN days after the tribal declaration
of war the Griqua horsemen came gal-
loping into Lattakoo armed for the con-
flict. The hour of action was at hand
. after the long days of waiting. The
enemy was now reported at Letakong,
only thirty-six miles away. At any moment they
might be on the swift march toward Lattakoo.
To be ready for instant flight, should flight become
imperative, the missionaries had packed their
bulkiest belongings and buried them in the ground,
an impromptu safety deposit. Even with the ar-
rival of the commando from Griqua To^vn, the
situation was dark and ominous, for the combined
troops of Bechuanas and Griquas were no match
for the formidable host of Mantatees. The
whole country north of the Orange River would
be ravaged and laid waste unless God vouchsafed
his aid to this little band of black warriors, wild
and vengeful as they were by nature, but mar-

183

THE MOFFAT S

shaled and restrained by the strong hand of the
missionary, Robert Moffat.

At the united entreaty of Griquas and Batlap-
ings, Moffat had consented to accompany the
troops, in the hope that he might be able to effect
a treaty through the white men reported to be
with the invading army. Mr. Melville, govern-
ment agent at Griqua Town, had come with the
commando, intending to go on to the front, and
the two old friends of Cape Tow^n days worked
shoulder to shoulder in the desperate hours which
followed.

On the eve of departure all met to pray for
God's blessing and guidance for the perilous un-
dertaking. The next day the warriors went out
through the thorn hedge, leaving a forsaken little
village of huts, populated only by women and
children and old men. In the reed house which
belonged to the English mission, Mary Moffat was
left with her babes and her little Bushman waifs,
to bide her husband's return and to pray un-
ceasingly for his success and safety.

Meanwhile out in the wilderness the black
troops with their white leaders came to their first
encampment at the Matlwaring River. When
184

THE WAR CRY OF THE MANTATEE8

camp was settled for the night, Moffat mounted
his horse and, with Waterboer, the Griqua chief,
and a few picked men, rode away into the dark-
ness to reconnoiter the enemy's position. For
four hours they rode — rode until they reached a
covert of trees where they halted until morning.
At break of day they swung into their saddles and
went cautiously forward until, on the opposite
hill, they saw a monstrous black patch with jets
of gray smoke arising here and there. Was it a
vast burnt district from which the fires had not yet
gone out? Look, and see that the fires are tended
by living hands and that living beings swarm the
hillside and color it black. It is the camp of the
Mantatees, a huge, surging organism suddenly
swept with confusion, for weird beings are enter-
ing their domains. Never before had the Manta-
tees seen a man on horseback, and they took horse
and rider for one fantastic monster. War-axes
and battle ornaments glistened in the morning sun
as their wearers moved hither and yon in alarm.
Realizing that they were observed, Moffat and
his companions advanced more slowly until they
came to a ravine where a young woman was gath-
ering acacia pods and eating them in the despera-

185

THE 31 OFF ATS

tion of hunger. Addressing her in the Bechuana
language, Moffat and Waterboer, the chief, ex-
plained who they were and that they desired a
parley with the enemy. Would she not take their
message to the army encamped on the hill? After
the girl had gone her way, they again rode for-
ward and drew rein within two musket-shots of the
enemy. There they waited a half-hour, to give
time for their message to be delivered, as well as
to con\ince the Mantatees of their fearlessness
and good intentions. From this point they des-
patched a messenger to carry tidings to the
Griquas, as yet twenty miles behind. Searching
about for water they came upon a pool, near
which lay the skeleton-like bodies of several Man-
tatees, who had evidently crept thither to drink
and had died of hunger and exhaustion. One body
lay partly in the water — the only water there was
to drink, if thirst were to be quenched, and Afri-
can thirst is an imperious master, admitting no
degree of fastidiousness.

Receiving no answer to their peaceful message,
save a few spears flung savagely in their direc-
tion, they advanced nearer until they were within
one hundred yards of the Mantatee camp. Acting
186

THE WAR CRY OF THE MANTATEES

upon a prearranged plan, Moffat and a companion
were about to swing from their saddles, intending
to walk unarmed toward the foe, when a savage
yell changed their tactics in a hurry. *'Be on
guard; they are preparing to attack!" Moffat
had barely time to shout the warning before sev-
eral hundred armed men rushed furiously toward
them, throwing their weapons with terrific veloc-
ity. Turning the frightened horses, they galloped
away, not a moment too soon. On a hill within
plain sight of the Mantatees they took their stand,
and there they waited all day, shooting two
khoris, or wild peacocks, for food and seeking in
vain to entice the enemy into peaceful council.

At sunset Moffat mounted his horse and rode
back alone to confer with Mr. Melville and the
Griqua chiefs as to the next move in the dangerous
game. It was during this council that Cornelius
Kok, one of the four Griqua chiefs, presented his
best horse to Mr. Moffat, urging its acceptance on
the plea that the missionary's life was more val-
uable than his own. Had it not been for this
horse, one of the finest the commando possessed,
Moffat would have been sore bested in the fierce
strife which followed.

187

THE M OFF ATS

After an almost sleepless night in the bitter cold
the horsemen were astir and off before the break
of day. When they came within one hundred and
fifty yards of the Mantatee camp, they drew up
in battle array, hoping that the sight of so many
armed men on horseback might intimidate the
enemy and bring them to terms. For answer
came a savage howl and a fierce onslaught with
clubs and javelins. Retreating a short distance,
the Griquas took their stand, and Waterboer, their
commander-in-chief, fired the first shot, instantly
felling a Mantatee warrior to the ground. Other
shots followed, all fired with the same sure aim
which marked one victim after another. It was
expected that the Mantatees would be dismayed
when they saw their comrades fall dead by an
almost invisible weapon which cut the air like
lightning, but no, they tore spears and clubs from
the dying and rushed forward with a fiendish yell
of vengeance, forcing the Griquas to retreat a
second time. In the thick of battle, efforts were
made to renew proposals of truce, but to no avail.
Wild, disorderly attack on the one hand was met
by steady, deliberate firing on the other, with an
accuracy which was deadly in its destructiveness.
188

THE WAR CRT OF THE MANTATEES

Soon after the fighting began, the Batlapings
came bravely to the front and began playing on
the enemy with their poisoned arrows. Some
half-dozen Mantatees had only to turn fiercely
upon them, when one and all scampered away like
frightened children. ** Women in the face of the
enemy; ready to run when ye should stand."
These taunting words had Moshume spoken in the
tribal council at Lattakoo two weeks before !

For two and a half hours the battle raged be-
tween one hundred Griqua horsemen on the one
side and many thousand Mantatee warriors on the
other. At last, finding their ammunition rapidly
diminishing, the Griquas took their lives in their
hands and began to storm the enemy's position.
Under the concentrated fury of this assault the
Mantatees gave way and fled in panic toward the
west. Instantly the Griqua horsemen cut off their
escape in that direction, whereupon they rushed
down into the ravine, as if determined not to re-
turn by the way they had come. Again they were
intercepted, and wildest confusion prevailed. On
the stony ground the horses became well-nigh un-
manageable, and in the swirling clouds of dust
friend could not be distinguished from foe.

189

THE MOFFATS

Swarms of black humanity were fleeing or pursu-
ing this way and that in mad terror. To the
general clash and tumult were added the bellow-
ing of oxen, the yells of defiant warriors, the
groans of wounded and dying, and the plaintive
cries of women and children.

As the dust lifted and the din somewhat sub-
sided, the Mantatees were seen in dogged flight
toward the town of Letakong, half a mile away,
where was encamped another division of their
army. The Griquas followed in hot pursuit, and
another fierce combat took place in the smoke and
flames of the burning village wherein the enemy
tried to entrap them. At last, goaded to despera-
tion, the entire host of Mantatee warriors fled
distractedly toward the north. By the area cov-
ered by the army in flight, Moffat estimated their
number to be forty thousand, as over against one
hundred Griqua horsemen who had contrived their
defeat. Had both sections of the army fought
together, the issue might have been sadly differ-
ent. As it was, not a single Griqua horseman
lost his life in the combat, while the slain of the
Mantatees numbered four or five hundred and the
field was strewn with the dying.
190

THE WAR CRY OF THE MANTATEES

The instant the camp was deserted by its war-
riors and by the Griquas who followed in pursuit,
the Bechuanas rushed in to plunder the dead and
murder the living. For the sake of a few copper
rings worn on neck, arm, or leg, or for the hollow
boast of having killed a Mantatee, they began to
butcher the women and children with their spears
and war-axes. Into this orgy of bloodshed Moffat
galloped at full speed, his eyes flaming and his
voice ringing with determination. Before his
commanding presence many a black hand was
stayed from its brutal deed. When the women
realized that the white man was their savior in-
stead of their murderer, they cried piteously, *'I
am a woman ; I am a woman. ' '

Unto the moment of death the Mantatee men
defied their assailants, sometimes fighting grimly
when ten or twelve spears were piercing their
bodies. Fifty Bechuanas would surround a
single wounded man, who would fight to the death
rather than yield. Several times Moffat nar-
rowly escaped the spears and war-axes of wounded
Mantatees while seeking to rescue the women and
children. Once he was caught in a deadly trap,
from which there seemed no egress to safety. A

191

TEE MOFFAT S

rocky height was on one side and the enemy on the
other, \vith but a single narrow passage along
which he could make a dash for safety on his
swift steed. Midway in this passage rose the
grim figure of a man, wounded to death but rally-
ing all his strength for one last stroke of revenge.
There he stood, weapon in hand, awaiting his
prey. At that juncture a Griqua from a distance
perceived the missionary's peril, raised his gun,
and fired a shot which whizzed so close to Moffat
that he shuddered, but which in one instant cleared
his path to safety.

The battle was over and the victory won, but the
old danger lingered still. Back in Lattakoo, when
the warriors returned to their huts, the old fear
gathered new force from realization of the
enemy's might. The Mantatees were coming, so
they heard, coming to Lattakoo to avenge their
loss. Without ''the thunder and lightning of the
Griquas," as they termed the musketry, the
Bechuanas would be as the dust of their feet.
Alone, they were helpless.

A night of sleepless vigil followed the receipt
of these tidings. The little town lay in utter
darkness, save for embers of the household
192

THE WAH CRY OF THE MANTATEES

fires, around which crouched trembling families,
harassed by constant fears.

The night was black with darkness and tense
with foreboding. The men remained out of doors
with ears strained to catch the first unusual sound.
The dogs barked incessantly as if aware of the
human dread. No spies were sent out, no watch
set; not a single inhabitant was between the
lonely village and the field of battle. Scarcely a
person dared stir in the breathless stillness,
broken only by the ominous barking of the dogs.
Once a mournful cry went up from a corner of
the village, and every heart palpitated in response.
It was the cry of the bereaved mother and chil-
dren mourning for the father killed by the hand
of the enemy.

In the kitchens and outhouses of the mission,
the Mantatee women who had been sheltered there
looked on unmoved or slept in utmost indiffer-
ence. Mrs. Moffat wrapped the sleeping babies
in warm garments, to be ready for flight to the
mountains should there be chance for escape. By
the door Moffat hung his coat over his gun, so that
he could snatch both in case of hurried flight.
Imagination pictured a host of warriors surround-

193

TEE MOFFATS

ing the town, awaiting only the light of day to
begin a wholesale massacre.

The climax of terror was reached when, toward
morning, a woman ran panting into the village
and dropped in a faint of exhaustion at the en-
trance of a native house. She had run the whole
night through, having barely escaped the spears
of the enemy the day before. When she recovered
consciousness, the first word upon her lips was
the one word all dreaded to hear, "The Manta-
tees!" Like an electric current the fatal word
burned its way through the village, scorching
every heart with fear.

It was a night when faith was put to a crucial
test. Then, if ever, must the trust of the Chris-
tian be vindicated, his belief in the watchful love
of God demonstrated. On that night the mission-
aries were stalwart witnesses to the power of
their religion to give courage and endurance in
the hour of trial. Once and again awed chiefs and
people stole to their door for sympathy and sup-
port. For themselves, as they afterwards said,
fear was held within bounds by perpetual prayer
to God.

Daylight came at last and dispelled, as only
194

THE WAR CRY OF THE MANTATEES

daylight can, many specters of the night. All was
quiet beyond the hedge of thorn as far as eye could
see. Not a Mantatee was in sight, not a hint of
his presence. Gradually the terror abated, but as
the Griquas were unable to come to their assist-
ance and the Mantatees had not yet departed
homeward, it was decided, with the full sanction
of the chiefs, that the missionary families should
remove to Griqua Town to stay until the danger
was past.
Having seen wife and children settled at Griqua
Town, Robert Moffat returned alone to Lattakoo
to share the problems and perils of his chosen
people. One of those problems was already
solved, for the Batlapings had learned at last to
value and love their missionary. Had they been
an idolatrous people, they would have been ready
to worship him as a god, for had he not shown
them a love surpassing human? Easily could he
have taken his family and slipped away to safety,
but instead he chose to stand by the black people
in their need, to secure for them the help of the
Griqua horsemen, without which they would have
shared the fate of the other Bechuana villages.
The missionary's resources and unselfishness they

195

THE MOFFATS

had learned to value, but when would they take
heed to his message, that priceless message for
which alone he had left home and country and cast
in his lot among them?

196

CHAPTER XIII
THE WIFE'S PAET

Oh, I must feel your brain prompt mine,

Your heart anticipate my heart,
You must be just before, in fine,

See and make me see, for your part,
New depths of the divine!

— Robert Browning (to his wife)

" SEAL LITTLE BUSHMEN, STRAIGHT FBOM
THE WILDS."

XIII
THE WIFE'S PART

Lattakoo, July 28, 1824.
My dear Robert:

It is with a faint, faint hope that you will ever see this
that I take up my pen, it being so very improbable that you
will meet with the Barolong who takes it ; but the possibility of
such a thing compels me not to neglect the opportunity,
anxious as I am to convey to your affectionate heart tidings of
our welfare. Our covenant God has graciously protected us
and all about us ever since you left, and I have strong con-
fidence that he has also been with you. But oh, my dear, I
find it requires the exercise of some fortitude to be calm and
serene under such a separation, in such circumstances, and at
such a time, in a land of barbarians. In vain has my heart
fluttered when I have seen a strange face, hoping he would
pull out from under his kaross a letter, no post yet having
arrived from you, and I began to think that I must not have
that exquisite pleasure till the living epistle bursts in upon me
himself. You know I dreaded your departure exceedingly. I
had many fears about your health from that ugly cough. I had
also fears on account of the tumultuous state of the land.
I expected also to suffer a good deal myself from low spirits
in my great solitude, but in this I was mistaken, having been
remarkably composed and very seldom in a melancholy mood.
When I felt it coming on, I made great efforts to dispel it and
have been successful. I feel very thankful for the support I

199

THE MOFFATS

have bad, and derive encouragement from it that all is well
with you, and that your journey is under the smiles of our
Heavenly Father. I have also great liberty at the throne of
grace for you and the cause of Christ.

About ten days after your departure two hastily written
notes from Mr. Helm to Mr. Hamilton arrived, bearing dif-
ferent dates, the last of them the sixth instant, saying that an
immense body of Mantatees was rapidly approaching Griqua
Town and that the Koranna mission was destroyed. The
Mantatees were not the same people who fought at Letakong.
You will easily conceive how I felt with regard to you, but was
enabled in the confidence of faith to commend you to our
covenant God. The idea of any of them on their return falling
in with your single wagon is truly shocking.

Since you left, Jacob Cloete, with a number of armed
Korannas on horses, besides a number of Bushmen, has been
making terrible ravages at a town beyond Lehaise's, has taken
a great number of cattle, killed eight chiefs, besides others and
women and children. By all accounts he has acted most bar-
barously ; the people here were much alarmed, as he threatened
to come here to get powder. Of course I had some fears,
but am happy to say he has gone back to his place.

I know you will excuse the brevity of this letter when you
reflect on the uncertainty of getting it. I will promise the
man a few beads if he brings it to you.

With a throb of yearning at her heart Mary-
Moffat folded the letter and handed it to the black
man who would deliver it to her husband if
200

THE WIFE'S PART

perchance he fell in with his ox-cart somewhere
on the long trail to the north. It was exactly four
weeks since Moffat had left home in the company
of some Griqua hunters to resume the interrupted
journey to Makaba, chief of the Bangwaketsi. At
the time of his departure the Mantatee invaders
were supposed to have dispersed, but he had not
been absent many days before the threat of their
return was heard in Lattakoo. About the same
time a mob of savage marauders from various
tribes collected in the mountains forty miles to the
west and began a mad career of plunder and
bloodshed. Before Moffat went away, it had been
decided to remove the mission station from Latta-
koo to Kuruman, eight miles away in a fertile re-
gion near the source of the Kuruman River. To
prepare for removal, Mr. Hamilton spent the
week-days at the new site, returning to Lattakoo
for Sunday services, which were conducted regu-
larly in the little church. His absence during the
week, together with her husband's, left Mrs.
Moffat alone with her small children, attended
only by a young Hottentot woman, who occupied
an adjoining house.

One evening the Hottentot girl rushed in,

201

THE MOFFATS

wringing her hands and crying, "The Mantatees
have been seen at Nokaneng and are on their way
.to Lattakoo." Mrs. Moffat sent a messenger to
Mothibi to inquire if the report were correct ; to
which he replied that it was, but that little danger
was to be apprehended before morning. Commit-
ting herself and her little charges to the protec-
tion of God, she lay down **in quietness and con-
fidence" and fell asleep. At midnight she was
awakened by a loud rapping on the door. Who
could it be? Was it Jacob Cloete, the leader of
the mountain brigands, or was it a messenger to
announce the approach of the Mantatees ? Going
to the door she asked, "Who is there?" Mothi-
bi's voice was heard in reply. It was the chief
himself who had come with a retinue of attend-
ants to warn her that the Mantatees were near at
hand. Admitting her visitors, who crowded the
little house to its utmost capacity, Mrs. Moffat
seated herself calmly at a table in the midst of the
noisy group and wrote to Mr. Hamilton, asking
him to come at once to her relief. From that
moment until daylight, uproar and confusion
sounded from every quarter of the village.
At eight o'clock Mr. Hamilton arrived with the

202

THE WIFE'S PART

three Hottentots who had been working with him
at Kuruman, and preparations were hastily made
for flight. In the town warriors were assembling,
and thousands of people were hiding away
precious possessions or packing them for sudden
departure. One messenger after another ran in
through the thorn hedge, each with the same fatal
tidings on his lips. At noon came a special runner
with the light of good news on his face. The
Mantatees had changed their course, he cried with
joy, and were headed toward the Barolongs in-
stead of the Batlapings. Then all the black people
of Lattakoo rejoiced greatly, but to the one white
woman in their midst the tidings brought a thrust
of fear sharper than any she had yet experienced.
In a flash she realized that the danger had been
lifted from herself and the children only to be
thrown with greater menace across the path of
her husband. At this very time he would be on
his way home, unattended by the Griqua hunters,
and in his solitary ox-wagon with some half-dozen
companions would encounter the whole host of
Mantatee savages. There was nothing on earth
to save him except the direct interposition of God.
For three dreadful weeks the wife was left in

203

TBE MOFFAT S

ignorance of her husband's fate, though tortured
every now and then with reports of his destruc-
tion. One man had seen a broken fragment of
his wagon; another a piece of his saddle, and
others had picked up bits of his linen stained with
blood. At last a few men were persuaded to go
out as a search party, when, on the very day of
their departure, a battered ox-cart crept into Lat-
takoo bearing the beloved wanderer himself, safe
and sound. The meeting that hour in the little
reed house at Lattakoo was charged with joy and
thanksgiving which recalled that day in the event-
ful past when Mary Smith came to her lover's
arms in Cape Town.

For his part, Moffat had a wonderful deliverance
to recount. He had traveled safely to Makaba's
domain, a chiefdom comprising some twenty vil-
lages with seventy thousand inhabitants. He had
stood in the presence of the redoubtable chief and
received marked tokens of his good-will. Like
Mothibi, Makaba turned a deaf ear to the mission-
ary's message, although apparently pleased at the
suggestion of having a missionary sent to his
tribe. With this hope kindling his thoughts Mof-
fat started for home, the interest of his visit
204

THE WIFE'S PABT

mingling with the eagerness which always stirred
his heart when returning to Mary and the bairns.
According to agreement, the Griquas remained
behind to hunt, and Moffat set forth in his ox-cart
with his half-dozen attendants. He had jour-
neyed but a short distance when, to his surprise,
he was overtaken by the Griqua chief, Berend
Berend, and his band of huntsmen. Berend
Berend, who was himself a Christian man, had
been uneasy about the missionary's safety with
so small a bodyguard and had consequently given
up the hunt to escort him home.

Near Pitsana, the chief town of the Barolong
tribe, this little company of twenty Griqua horse-
men encountered the whole fierce army of Man-
tatees and routed them completely, thus saving
the Barolongs from slaughter and the missionary
from a fate unspeakable. When the awful danger
was passed, Berend Berend looked with awe into
the face of Robert Moffat and spoke of the wonder-
ful manifestation of God's providence they had
seen that day. After the journey was over, Mary
Moffat looked with yearning affection into the face
of her husband, and thanked God for giving him
back, as it were, from the dead.

205

THE M OFF ATS

Such was the story of the first missionary jour-
ney to Makaba, chief of the Bangwaketsi ; in which
the wife's part was not the least in heroism and
importance.

For seven and a half years Robert Moffat had
been a voluntary exile from home at the call of the
Leader whom he followed. In Afrikaner's kraal,
the scene of his early labors, there had been quick
results to cheer his heart, but in Lattakoo only the
Leader himself could conquer the dull discourage-
ment of the fruitless days. On the desert up-
lands of Great Namaqualand, loneliness would
have well-nigh crushed the youthful pioneer had
not Afrikaner and his tribe received his word with
gladness and himself with friendliness. In
Bechuanaland, he could the more easily wait long
for the harvest because Mary was by his side to
share his hope and his daily battle. God had thus
mercifully provided for the needs of his servant,
according to the promise that he "will not suffer
you to be tempted above that ye are able ; but will
with the temptation make also the way of escape,
that ye may be able to endure."
206

THE WIFE'S PART

When, in the year 1829, Christian Afrikaner had
come in his ox-cart to Lattakoo and journeyed
with the missionaries over the road to Griqua
Town, they had parted in glad anticipation of the
day when Afrikaner and his tribe should remove
to the neighborhood of his beloved friend, Robert
Moffat. Scarcely two years later a message came
creeping across the desert from Great Namaqua-
land, bringing sincere mourning to the missionary
family at Lattakoo. Afrikaner was dead. From
his humble earthly life with its narrow compass
of tribal villages, but with its boundless hope, he
had passed into the blessed fellowship of the
saints of all times and races.

When he realized that his death was near, Afri-
kaner called the tribe together, as Joshua once
summoned all the tribes of Israel, to receive his
parting blessing and admonition. '^We are not,"
said he, ''what we were, savages, but men profess-
ing to be taught according to the gospel. Let us
then do accordingly. Live peaceably with all
men, if possible. Eemain together as you have
done since I knew you. Then, when the directors
think fit to send you a missionary, you may be
ready to receive him. . . . My former life is

207

THE MOFFAT S

stained with blood, but Jesus Christ has pardoned
me, and I am going to heaven. Oh! beware of
falling into the same evils into which I have led
you frequently ; but seek God, and he will be found
of you to direct you."

In course of time the Wesleyans, with whom
Robert Moffat had been connected in his boyhood,
sent missionaries to Great Namaqualand who set-
tled in close proximity to Afrikaner's kraal.
Under their ministrations, Titus Afrikaner, that
fierce and rebellious brother of the chief, became
a convert to the religion he once violently op-
posed. Peace and harmony were restored among
the tribes where strife had prevailed. In his
reminiscent moods Moffat looked gratefully back
to those brief years in Afrikaner's kraal and saw
in memory that travel-stained, lovable figure, who
in his utter loyalty would willingly have laid down
his life for his missionary.

In Lattakoo Robert and Mary drank the bitter
cup of defeat. Not a single Batlaping had yet
shown the faintest interest in the real purpose of
their life among them. Petty persecution and
hostility had given way to respect and affection
as they saw evidences of the missionaries' skill
208

THE WIFE'S PART

and unselfishness, especially as manifested in the
Mantatee invasion. But to listen attentively to
their teaching about a Great Being whom they
could not see, and about a life after death, was a
task too irksome, unless rewarded by a bit of food
or a trinket as equivalent for their time. Even
to speak of death drove the poor people distracted,
for death to them meant annihilation, and the idea
was ghastly in its repugnance. To ask them to
believe in a resurrection was preposterous, for
had they not seen the bleached bones of the dead
lying on the sand? "Maka hela" (only lies) was
their first comment, softened as time went on into
exclamations of surprise at the missionaries'
credulity.

In all the accustomed life of the Batlaping peo-
ple there was nothing to suggest the worship of
any being superior to themselves, nothing for the
missionary to use as a point of contact between
heathen superstitions and Christian faith. No
temple, no idol, no wayside shrine, not even a
sacred stream or tree; no word in the language
to express the meaning of God ! If the missionary
searched for ancient legends handed down from
generations past, there were none to be found ; if

209

THE MOFFAT S

he watched for a glint of understanding or a
flicker of desire upon the faces of his black audi-
ence, he watched in vain. "They look upon the
sun with the eyes of an ox," observed Mr. Camp-
bell as he traveled among them. The highest bliss
their minds could conceive was **a great fire cov-
-^red with pots full of meat." The missionary's
effort, as Mr. Moffat said, was like that of the
child who tries to grasp the polished surface of a
mirror, or the farmer who seeks to convert the
granite rock into fertile soil.

''Mary," said Robert Moffat one day to his
wife, "this is hard work; think how long we have
been preaching to this people, and no fruits yet
appear."

"It is hard work," she replied, "but take cour-
age ; the gospel has not yet been preached to them
in their own language wherein they were born.
They have heard only through interpreters, and
interpreters who have themselves no just under-
standing or real love of the truth. We must not
expect the blessing until you are able from your
owTi lips and in their own language to convey it
through their ears to their hearts."

"From that hour," declared Moffat in recount-
210

THE WIFE'S PART

ing the conversation, ' * I gave myself with untiring
diligence to the acquisition of the language."

There were peculiar difficulties in the way of
acquiring the native speech of the Bechuana
people. It had no written form, and the chance
to practise the oral language was hindered by the
presence of many Dutch-speaking people at Lat-
takoo. Moreover, wars and rumors of wars had
three times driven the Moffats in hasty flight to
Griqua Town, thus seriously impeding study. At
Kuruman, the new station to which they removed
in 1825, hard manual labor claimed Moffat's time
and strength for well-nigh two years. Sometimes
he had to stand in water up to his waist, cutting
thatch for his new house. Under the burning sun
every phase of the builder's craft fell to his lot
to perform. Yet in those strenuous months he
found time to complete a spelling-book, catechism,
and small portions of the Bible, and to send them
to the Cape for publication. Eeligious services
were held as usual for the Batlapings, who were
congregating in villages of huts along the edge of
the valley.

In 1827 the first permanent building was com-
pleted, a substantial house of stone to take the

211

THE MOFFATS

place of the flimsy wooden structure which served
as temporary abode. Ditches had been dug and
water conducted from the river to the gardens
which already bloomed in the valley. The new
station was now so well developed that Mr. Ham-
ilton and Mr. Hughes, a recent addition to the mis-
sionary staff, agreed to complete the building
operations and release Moffat for language study.
For this purpose he went on a tour among the
Barolong tribe, living for ten weeks a nomadic,
semi-savage life in the midst of heathen dance and
song and dirty, disorderly huts. The unsavory
period of exile gained its point, for upon his return
he preached a sermon in such excellent Sechuana
that Mothibi was dumfounded and could find no
criticism to make save that it savored too much
of the Serolong dialect.

Some time before Moffat left for his visit to the
Barolongs, a baby boy had come to join the family
circle at Kuruman, another Robert Moffat by
name. In her new house, with three young chil-
dren to mother, as well as a young settlement to
watch over, Mrs. Moffat lived the busy life of a
pioneer during those ten weeks while her husband
was away.
212

Photo. Board of Foreign Missions, Methodist Episcopal Church

Photo. Loudon Missionary Society

TREKKING IN SOUTH AFRICA
KURUMAN IN WINTER

THE WIFE'S PAET

Among that little band of missionaries in
Bechuanaland there was one whose faith had
never wavered, though often her bodily strength
was spent. ''I may not live to see it, but the
awakening will come as surely as the sun will rise
to-morrow," said Mrs. Moffat with face aglow.
One day a letter arrived from Mrs. Greaves, an old
friend in England, asking what gift she could
send to help the mission most. The reply of Mary
Moffat to that question should be told throughout
the world, ''wheresoever the gospel shall be
preached, as a memorial of her." "Send us a
communion service," she wrote; "we shall want
it some day." A communion service, when as yet
there was not a single convert to join in this love
feast of the Christians! But not even the faith
of Mary Moffat could quite foresee the thrilling
events which were to take place in the Kuruman
mission before the arrival of that precious gift
from England.

213

CHAPTER XIV
THE DREAM COME TRUE

I know a land that is sunk in shame,

Of hearts that faint and tire —

And I know of a Name, a Name, a Name,

Can set that land on fire.

Its sound is a brand, its letters flame,

I know of a Name, a Name, a Name,

Will set that land on fire.

"WOMEN AND
GIRLS . . .
GATHERED
AROUND
MRS. MOFFAT
TO LEARX
THE USE OF
THE NEEDLE."

XIV
THE DREAM COME TRUE

ARON JOSEPHS was not of Hebrew
descent, as his name might imply, but
an African freedman from Cape Col-
ony. As a runaway slave, he had been
helped by a friendly Englishman to
purchase his freedom for the sum of
fifteen hundred rix-dollars, which sum he had
secured in ivory for the purpose. "With his wife
and three children, he had subsequently settled on
a farm in the interior not far from the Kuruman
mission. To educate his children, as well as in-
crease his own proficiency in reading and writing,
this ambitious ex-slave left his farm temporaril^r
and came to reside at the mission station. He
and his wife were welcome additions to the new
and growing community, for they had acquired
habits of industry and steadiness from their life
in the colony. Moreover, Aaron Josephs brought
to his new environment a knowledge of Christian
teaching which prepared him for leadership in the
Pentecostal experiences which were to follow.

217

THE MOFFATS

At the end of August, 1828, Mr. Hamilton, who
had just made his first trip to the coast since he
joined the mission in 1816, returned to his post to
find events taking place which seemed to him
nothing short of miraculous. The temporary-
chapel which his hands had helped to build could
not begin to hold the people who thronged the
services. With astonishing promptness came an-
swers to the questions Moffat asked from the
catechism he had translated. In place of stolid
indifference, the people turned atte'ntive faces,
alert with interest, toward the preacher. Many
times the missionary caught traces of tears upon
the black faces before him. For an African
woman to cry was nothing unusual, since in family
and tribal calamities the woman's part was to
weep and wail, the man's to brood and plot re-
venge. But now the scene was changed, and men
as well as women shed the unaccustomed tears of
penitence.

Moffat and his coworkers were well-nigh pros-
trated by the glory of this day of awakening for
which they had prayed earnestly for seven years.
Ever since they had come to Bechuanaland they
had preached the "Word without effect, and as a
218

THE DREAM COME TRUE

last straw of discouragement came the report that
the London Society contemplated closing the mis-
sion because it had failed of results. But the
vindication had come at last in this strange, melt-
ing experience which bowed the hearts of the
people before God.

About this time Aaron Josephs came forward
and asked to be admitted into the fellowship of
Christian believers. On a memorable Sunday
this man with his three children received the rite
of baptism, together with a little white child, who
was christened Robert Moffat. The scene had
a peculiar attraction for the black people, and
sobs and cries mingled with the tones of the
preacher. With characteristic Scotch caution
Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Moffat sought to restrain
the emotional excitement, but in vain. Tears and
loud crying pervaded the crowded room, and with
all the interplay of feeling there stirred and
grew the consciousness of a Presence, infinitely
appealing.

From this hour the people^ gave themselves
unitedly to prayer and song. In many a village
hut they met to pray, and when no one was present
to voice their petition they sang the three hymns

219

THE MOFFATS

Moffat had translated into their language. Until
late in the evening they lingered together, and,
before morning broke, reassembled to begin the
day with worship.

With this widespread enthusiasm came a spe-
cial token of genuineness altogether practical in
form. Three men, led by Aaron Josephs, a
builder and thatcher by trade, offered their ser-
vices to build a schoolhouse which should serve as
place of worship until a church of adequate size
could be erected. Their offer was wholly volun-
tary, as no one had so much as hinted its desira-
bility. With the plan drawn they would raise the
structure entire, save for doors and windows,
which to them were unkno^vn features of the build-
er's art. Only too thankfully did Mr. Hamilton
agree to supply these necessities, and forthwith
the work was begun. It soon grew to be a com-
munity enterprise in which many willing hands
helped, w^omen and children carrying clay, laths,
and materials for thatch. In the month of May,
1829, the building was completed, the same en-
thusiasm marking its finish as inspired its begin-
ning. For native Africans, lazy and shiftless by
nature and training, to undertake and complete sc
220

THE DREAM COME TRUE

extensive a building entirely of their own accord
proved that some new and powerful leaven was
at work in their lives.

The first Sunday in July marked an epoch in
the Bechuana missions. On that day six native
Christians, both men and women, were baptized
and received into church membership. Before
calling his twelve disciples, the Master went into
a mountain apart to pray for insight to guide his
choice. In like manner the Kuruman mission-
aries prayed and counseled together in great
earnestness before they ventured to select these
first Bechuana converts to acknowledge publicly
their allegiance to Jesus Christ. Careful exam-
ination revealed a simple faith in Christ, particu-
larly in his atoning death, and an understanding
remarkably accurate in comparison with their
former ignorance.

The day of their baptism was signalized by a
large gathering of visitors at Kuruman — Griquas
on a hunting expedition and traders from the in-
terior. Moved by a common impulse, they assem-
bled in the new building where the baptismal ser-
vice and the sermon, delivered with freedom in the
Sechuana language, made a profound impression.

221

THE MOFFATS

But the most striking incident of that day's cele-
bration remains to be told. On the Friday eve-
ning before, a box arrived from England, bearing
the name of the sender, John Greaves, Esq., of
Sheffield. It did not take Mrs. Moffat long to
guess the contents of that box nor to remove the
shiny communion vessels and pulpit candlesticks
for which she had asked two years before when
there was no sign that they would ever be needed
in Bechuanaland. The box had been twelve
months on the way from England and had reached
its destination just two days before the first ob-
servance of the Lord's Supper in the Kuruman
church! "We were as those that dreamed,"
wrote Moffat afterwards. "The hour had arrived
on which the whole energies of our souls had been
intensely fixed, when we should see a church, how-
ever small, gathered from among a people who had
so long boasted that neither Jesus nor we, his ser-
vants, should ever see Bechuanas w^orship and
confess him as their King."

The genuineness of the Kuruman revival was
put to a still more practical test as the days went
by. Women and girls, in motley array, gathered
around Mrs. Moffat to learn the use of the needle,
222

THE DREAM COME TRUE

that tiny instniment which perpetually eluded
their clumsy fingers accustomed to pickax and hoe.
Hitherto woman's sphere of labor had been
housebuilding and farming, while to man fell the
task of supplying the scanty family wardrobe.
To suggest an exchange of occupation was to
provoke noisy laughter from women and men.
Once Mahuto, the chief's wife, remarked half in
jest, half in earnest, that she wished the mission-
ary would give the husbands medicine to make
them do the heavy work instead of the wives. But
neither Mahuto nor her sister women dreamed
that the day would come when, stirred by some
potent inner impulse, they would of their own
free will seek to acquire the finer arts of human
living.

Scarcity of material was the only drawback to
the progress of the sewing-school, which had come
naturally into existence. The nearest market
town was six hundred miles away, and Kuruman
was off the regular route of traders. To supply
the lack, ornaments, hitherto highly prized, were
converted into bullion wherewith to purchase skins
of animals. These, in turn, were prepared soft
as cloth and made into jackets, trousers, and

223

TEE MOFFATS

gowns. Wlienever a trader chanced to come their
way, British goods were bought with avidity.

The fashion of wearing clothes spread like a
contagious germ among men as well as women.
For a man to appear in a pair of trousers was an
almost certain sign that he was about to join the
ranks of so-called "inquirers." To abandon the
custom of painting the body and to wash with
water w^as almost equal to a public renunciation of
heathenism.

Mrs. Moffat, the only European woman in the
place, was supposed to be an infallible source of
wisdom in the clothier's art. Men and women,
young and old, appealed to her for instruction.
A man would bring prepared skins to be cut into
a jacket; another would request a pattern, while
a third would exhibit a garment sewed upside
down and inquire innocently why it did not fit.

In this transition period many ludicrous sights
met the missionaries' eyes. A man might be seen
wearing a jacket with one sleeve, a black arm pro-
truding through the other armhole, the inequality
being due to shortage of material. Another would
proudly don a duffel, or leather jacket, with sleeves
of blue, red, or yellow cotton. Joseph's coat of
224

TRE DREAM COME TRUE

many colors was often reproduced in the costumes
worn that year at Kuruman.

From clothing and cleanliness the reform spread
to household furnishings. Chairs, chests, and
tables were no longer regarded as doubtful con-
veniences, not worth the labor expended upon
their production. Candles had hitherto been con-
sidered the foolish extravagance of Europeans,
who burned the fat they might have eaten or used
as lubricating oil for their bodies. For Africans
it had been pastime enough, when the cows were
milked and the day's work was done, to crouch
over the smoldering embers by whose light they
could see sufficiently to eat and talk. But a new
interest had recently come into their lives, a fas-
cinating facility in reading, which must be utilized
in the leisure hours of evening. The flickering
flame of a wood fire hardly sufficed to light the
printed page, and presently candle molds, tallow,
and rags for wicks were scrupulously hoarded.
On the walls of native huts hung bunches of home-
made candles, a sight which gave the missionaries
a thrill of satisfaction, for were they not a symbol
of the light which was irradiating the darkened
minds of their owners?

225

THE MOFFAT S

Before the Moffats had recovered from the
first shock of joy over the Bechuaiia converts, a
letter from England brought impressive tidings.
At the very time when the people at Kuruman
were responding to the gospel message, Christians
in England were engaged in especially earnest
prayer on their behalf. ' ' What an encouragement
to persevere in that important part of Christian
duty," said Mary Moffat,

During this same eventful year there came to
Kuruman two men from a distant tribe who
were the harbingers of an interesting future in
which Moffat was to play a leading part. They
had come from the great chief, Mosilikatse, king
of the Matabele, a ruler strong and despotic, whose
subjects bowed in fawning flattery and whose ene-
mies cringed in terror. At his behest these two
emissaries had journeyed to Kuruman to study
the character and customs of the white people of
whom they had heard divers and strange accounts.

In demeanor the visitors bore themselves with
a dignity and politeness which bespoke their high
rank in a tribe of superior intelligence. Kespect-
ful attention was given to every reform due to the
white man's ingenuity. The strongly built
226

THE DEE AM COME TRUE

houses, garden walls, water ditches, and smith's
forge produced an impression which was exhib-
ited not by wild gestures, the African language of
surprise, but by serious comment and inquiry.
"You are men; we are children," said one with
gravity. "Mosilikatse must be taught these
things," confirmed the other.

Of the many novel sights at Kuruman none
seemed to the visitors quite so unaccountable as
the chapel services. There for the first time they
saw black men meet together in orderly and quiet
behavior; they saw children sitting still and
mothers hushing their babies or quietly retiring
if their cries could not be subdued. Such decorum
could scarcely be comprehended, for among native
tribes the public assembly was always inter-
spersed with war-song, dance, and frenzied mo-
tion. The Christian hymns which the Bechuanas
sang in their own language made a strange appeal
to people whose only conception of music was the
impassioned outpouring of hatred and revenge.

When the visit neared its end, keen apprehen-
sion was felt for the safe return of the Matabele.
Rumors were whispered that the Bechuana tribes
through whose territory they must pass were

227

THE MOFFATS

plotting to trap and kill them. The consequences
of such a deed were frightful to contemplate, for
Mosilikatse would take swift and thorough re-
venge upon the tribe that dared to murder his
ambassadors. What plan could be devised for
their protection? The Moffats and Mr. Hamilton
were at their wits' end to solve the difficulty and
met again and again for counsel and prayer. At
length an expediency was hit upon which removed
at once the fears of the travelers. Their eyes
fairly gleamed with delight at the proposal. Mof-
fat would go himself as pledge of their safety, as
far as the Bahurutse territory, from which they
could journey in safety to their own domain.

A number of men volunteered to accompany the
expedition, which some deemed highly dangerous.
At the time of departure the people brought pres-
ents to speed their parting guests and to send to
Mosilikatse, whose name, before the gospel of
good-w^ill had tamed their tribal hatred, would
have been pronounced with a curse.

Under circumstances altogether unique Moffat
experienced another of those African journeys,
of which repetition could never rob the adventure
nor the high-pitched peril. Every long trip in
238

THE DREAM COME TRUE

his ox-cart meant to the missionary a new and
exciting chapter to add to his volume of dramatic
events. But of all his accumulated adventures
none quite surpassed in picturesqueness and sig-
nificance the journey to Mosilikatse, *'the Na-
poleon of the desert," as Moffat learned to call
him.

The original plan was for the escort to go as
far as Mosega, the Bahurutse town, when the
danger zone would be passed. But had they
turned back at this point, as they expected, this
particular story with its sequel would never have
been told. At Mosega the Matabele raised a
serious barrier to Mr. Moffat's return. Mosili-
katse, they declared, would surely kill them if
they permitted the white man to go back with-
out entering the king's presence. Reluctantly
Moffat consented to go as far as the cattle out-
posts of the Matabele, one hundred miles beyond.
Beyond Mosega the landscape became exceed-
ingly beautiful, rich in vegetation and traversed
by streams flowing eastward to the Indian Ocean.
It was a paradise for wild beasts alone, as the
once dense population had been wiped out by on-
slaughts of the Mantatees and Matabele. Now

229

THE M OFF ATS

and then a solitary inhabitant joined the caravan,
seeking a bit of food to appease his hunger.

As they approached the first cattle outpost,
Moffat espied a large and shapely tree at the
entrance of a wooded ravine, between whose
branches protruded telltale peaks of thatch.
Could it be one of those tree villages of which he
had heard? Hastening to the spot he found his
surmise correct, for the big tree actually fur-
nished homes for several families of Bajone, rem-
nants of the tribe which once inhabited this fer-
tile land. With a boy's love of adventure which
never forsook this grown-up missionary, he
promptly climbed the notched trunk to the very
top. There he entered a hut, sat down, and ate
powdered locusts, which his hostess gladly pro-
vided. On his way down he counted seventeen
cone-shaped huts, built upon oblong scaffolds
seven feet wide, with a small space in front for
entrance.

When they returned to the wagons, the old
dilemma was renewed. Mr. Moffat pleaded his
pressing duties at Kuruman, and the fulfilment
of his promise to the Matabele, since, in the lan-
guage of the country, he had placed them ** behind
230

THE DREAM COME TRUE

shields of their nation." For answer, one of the
men laid his right hand upon the missionary's
shoulder and the left upon his own breast, say-
ing, "Father, you have been our guardian. We
are yours; you love us, and will you leave us?
Yonder dwells the great Mosilikatse, and how
shall we approach his presence if you are not with
us? When we shall have told our news, he will
ask why our conduct gave you pain to cause your
return; and, before the sun descend on the day
we see his face, we shall be ordered out for exe-
cution because you are not." It was a dramatic
scene; the two warrior-like figures standing as
suppliants, the missionary bowed in deep per-
plexity, and the Kuruman attendants looking on
as if the destinies of an empire hung in the bal-
ance. With irrepressible emotion they heard the
decision, — "We must go on."

It was a day never to be forgotten when Mr.
Moffat with two attendants left the ox-carts to
follow by a more circuitous route, and mounted
his horse to go by the direct road into Mosili-
katse's town. Straight into the center of the fold
they rode, a fold large enough to hold ten thou-
sand head of cattle, but now encircled by eight

231

THE MOFFATS

hundred warriors in full dress uniform. At the
signal to dismount, the riders obeyed, though
keeping the bridles in their hands. At that mo-
ment two hundred warriors who had been con-
cealed at the entrance rushed into the circle, yell-
ing and brandishing monstrous shields which
reached to their chins. The horses nearly broke
loose at this demonstration, but the warriors
promptly fell into rank with the despatch of
trained soldiers. Motionless as statues they
stood, with only their white teeth gleaming and
their plumes waving. A profound silence fell
upon the scene, broken only by the breathing of
the horses. Then the war-song broke forth in all
its primitive glory, rhythmic and uproarious, vivi-
fied by imitations of dying groans and victors'
yells. Another pause ensued when from behind
the lines marched the monarch himself, followed
by a retinue of attendants bearing baskets and
bowls of food. Having been taught the European
mode of salutation, he extended his hand for a
clumsy but well-meaning shake. Turning politely
to the food, which had been placed at the visitors '
feet, he bade them partake.

At this juncture the wagons were seen ap-
232

THE DREAM COME TRUE

proaching, and Mosilikatse grasped Moffat's arm
to escort him to the place of encampment. * ' The
land is before you," he graciously affirmed; "you
must sleep where you please." When the "mov-
ing houses," as the wagons were called, came
nearer, Mosilikatse shrank back in fear at the un-
accustomed sight. Were they living creatures
of some mammoth species he had never seen?
Grasping Moffat more firmly, he advanced with
caution to investigate. When the mechanism of
the wagon had been explained, he returned to the
fold, where his warriors greeted him with noisy
acclamation.

Wherever Mosilikatse went, he was attended by
fawning minions who sang his praises. "Great
King, King of Heaven, the Elephant, the Lion's
Paw," were some of the fantastic titles applied
to the monarch. His power could hurl mountains
from their foundation, boasted his followers. His
smile was life and his frown death, they averred
with fatal truthfulness.

The first Saturday evening that Moffat spent
in this strangest of strange lands, he was ap-
proached by King Mosilikatse, who was bent on
conversation. Placing his hand upon the mis-

233

THE MOFFATS

sionary's shoulder, he addressed him in words
like these: " Machobane, — I call you such because
you have been my father — you have made my
heart as white as milk. I cease not to wonder at
the love of a stranger. You never saw me be-
fore, but you love me more than my own people.
You fed me when I was hungry, you clothed me
when I was naked, and," raising the missionary's
arm, ''that arm shielded me from my enemies."
"Whereupon Moffat replied, asking when he had
seen him naked or hungry or imperiled! Point-
ing to the two men whom Moffat had befriended,
he said: ''These are great men; Umbate is my
right hand. When I sent them from my presence
to see the land of the white man, I sent my ears,
my eyes, my mouth. What they heard, I heard ;
what they saw, I saw, and what they said, it was
Mosilikatse who said it. You fed them and clothed
them, and, when they were to be slain, you were
their shield. You did it unto me. You did it unto
Mosilikatse, son of Machobane."

It was the "love of a stranger" which drew the
heathen king unto the Christian missionary with
devotion which recalled Afrikaner, the outlaw
chieftain. But, unlike Afrikaner, Mosilikatse gave
234

THE BEE AM COME TRUE

but vagrant heed to the message the missionary-
tried repeatedly to make him understand. By
way of politeness he would listen to the strange
words of his guest until his attention was diverted
by droves of sleek cattle approaching the town,,
to him the supreme concern of life.

It was ten days before Moffat could escape the
solicitations of his host and start on the home-
ward journey. So manifest was the king's affec-
tion for his guest that his people declared he must
have received a love-potion from the hands of the
white man. "Ra-Mary," said he, as they stood
by the ox- wagons, "your visit to me seems like
a dream; my heart will follow you. Go in peace
to Kuruman, and when you come again, bring
Ma-Mary with you. Let the road to Kuruman
forever remain open." Then, as the wagons
moved away, the king and his men sat on the
grass chanting a kind of dirge. For some dis-
tance Moffat walked behind the ox-carts musing
upon the strange experience which had come
to him unsought, wondering what it might sig-
nify for the extension of the mission he loved.

As they passed beyond the last cattle outpost,
the Matabele were left further and further be-

235

THE MOFFAT S

hind, as the travelers drew daily nearer the goal
of their journey and their heart's desire, Kuru-
man. At last the little settlement came into
view, the willow trees, the huts along the edge of
the valley, the newly built schoolhouse, and finally
Moffat's owTi house and, yes, Mary and the chil-
dren in the doorway ''watching for father."

It was now the new year, for two months had
elapsed since Moffat went away in November.
The year opened with promise, for interest had
steadily deepened, and the converts were prov-
ing their steadfastness by many a practical test.
Garden products were multiplied beyond the tra-
ditional watermelon, beans, and pumpkins of
their forefathers to include maize, barley, peas,
carrots, and potatoes. New watercourses were
built in emulation of the missionaries, and some
enterprising folk planted fruit trees. Plows, har-
rows, and spades were no longer spurned as the
implements of degrading toil, but welcomed as
the very necessities of existence. Public senti-
ment had undergone a change in Bechuanaland
since the coming of the missionaries.

Early in the year 1830, foundations were laid
for the new church, which was to be a substantial
236

THE DREAM COME TRUE

structure of blue limestone, the largest building
north of the Orange River. By the light of their
tallow candles the people had made such rapid
progress in reading that Moffat was spurred to
finish and publish his translation of the Gospel
of Luke.

There was a turn in the tide of mission affairs
in Bechuanaland, and who could measure the
force of its incoming! Would it reach perchance
to Mosilikatse, peerless king of the desert tribes?

237

CHAPTER XV

''THE SMOKE OF A THOUSAND
VILLAGES"

He Cometh unto you with a tale which holdeth children from
play and old men from the chimney corner.

— Sir Philip Sidney

"HE WAS
SPIBITED
AWAY TO
AUDFENCE
HALLS TO
ADDRESS
GREAT
THRONGS
OF PEOPLE.'

XV

*^THE SMOKE OF A THOUSAND
VILLAGES"

N the harbor at Cape Town, where the
mountains cast freakish shadows upon
the sea, a British ship was receiving
her cargo and her passengers for the
homeward voyage. A small and ill-
equipped craft she was, battered and
buffeted by long trips at sea. On this passage
she had come all the way from China, carrying
soldiers who had served their time in the Opium
War. She was now provisioned and ready for
the voyage of three months in the Atlantic, when
she would measure the length of an entire con-
tinent and two thirds of another before reaching
her English haven. In the old days of sailing
vessels and roundabout routes from continent to
continent, every journey meant a long period of
travel.

Among the passengers who gathered on deck
for the last farewells was an English family well
known to the reader, and likewise to the residents

241

THE MOFFATS

of South Africa, Robert Moffat with his wife and
six bonny children. Moffat looked as tall and
straight as had the young man who landed in
Cape To^^^l twenty-two years before, more sun-
burnt and hardy, perhaps, with the added look of
an explorer and a mystic combined. Mrs. Mof-
fat's face beamed with kindliness and human in-
terest, while her blue eyes spoke of hardihood and
purpose to match those of her husband. There
were three girls of varying heights and ages, and
three lively boys, beginning with Robert, Junior,
a lad of twelve. The two youngest, Jim and Jack,
prattled incessantly, firing a continuous volley of
questions at their long-suffering elders. It was
a singularly wide-awake family, with that quick-
ness of perception which a frontier life begets
and that strong attachment to one another which
isolation tends to develop. Already the thought
of England was quickening the heart-beats of the
grown folks who had been so long exiled from
their native land, while the boys and girls, who
knew the home country in fancy alone, were pre-
pared for a grand adventure surpassing all the
ox-carts, lions, and wild tribes they had ever en-
countered.
242

" THE SMOKE OF A THOUSAND VILLAGES "

Since that first landing in the year 1817 Robert
Moffat had traveled thousands of miles by ox-
cart and on horseback, but not until this day in
March, 1839, had he ventured upon the home trail
over seas to England. Mary Moffat was likewise
a seasoned traveler, for in the last ten years alone
she had made five trips from Kuruman to the
Cape, more than six thousand miles in an African
ox-cart at the rate of fifteen miles a day! The
three eldest children, Mary, Ann, and Robert, had
been sent to school in the Colony, and every two
or three years their mother trekked down from
Bechuanaland to attend to their needs. When the
ox-cart trailed into Cape Town and she caught
sight of Table Mountain and the shiny sea, Mary
Moffat lived again that exciting day in December,
1819, when she came, a lonely girl, to join her
lover in South Africa. On this day, twenty years
later, husband and wife stood together on the deck
of the ship which was to bear them again to those
familiar scenes where the unquenchable romance
of their lives began.

It was a singular predicament which had con-
strained the Moffats to embark for England at
this particularly inopportune time. They had

243

TEE MOFFAT S

come down to Cape Town on imperative business ;
to obtain medical attention, to take the two girls
home from school, and to deliver to the printer
the complete manuscript of the New Testament
which Moffat had translated into Sechuana (the
language of the Bechuanas). The Kuruman mis-
sion had a printing-press, but it was not adequate
for so large an output. Neither was Cape Town
better equipped, for not an office in the place could
undertake the amount of printing required. It
became evident that the manuscript would have
to be published in England and that the Moffats
would need to go themselves to interpret the un-
known hieroglyphics. Accordingly they took pas-
sage on the only ship available, although her
quarters were cramped, and her date of sailing
inconvenient.

Scarcely had the ship left her moorings before
trouble came to the Moffat family. Even while
crossing Table Bay the mother's crucial hour ar-
rived, and she gave birth to a baby girl. A few
hours later, and the ship put to sea in a raging
tempest of wind and waves ! In the general dis-
tress which prevailed, Mrs. Moffat, who lay help-
less in her berth, perceived that Jim, the six-year-
244

''THE SMOKE OF A THOUSAND VILLAGES"

old boy, was in serious plight. He had not fully-
recovered from measles, contracted in Cape
Town, and another disease, more critical, had fol-
lowed in its train. No one was able to nurse the
sick boy, for seasickness had prostrated nearly
every one on board. In her extremity, Mrs.
Moffat asked to have the child laid by her side,
and there, while the wind howled and the ship
tossed, the little fellow lay upon his mother's arm
talking contentedly of the angels who should bear
the souls of children to their heavenly home.
''Oh, that will be joyful," babbled the childish
lips, while his eyes closed dreamily, and he
slipped away to join the children at play in the
Father's house.

Grief for the little lad mingled with an old grief
revived in Mary Moffat's heart by the expecta-
tion of returning to her girlhood home. Far back
in the years and far back also in the interior of
Africa a letter had come from England with the
dreaded tidings that Mrs. Smith, Mary's mother,
had died. Six years from the time that her daugh-
ter left the stone house in Dukinfield, the mother
went out on the journey from which there is no
return. With added tenderness Mrs. Moffat gath-

245

THE MOFFAT S

ered her little brood about her in the ship's cabin
and told them anew of the grandparents they
were soon to see. In the family circle in Scot-
land there was likewise a vacant place, for Rob-
ert's brother, Alexander, with whom he used to
trudge to school in Falkirk, had been invalided
and sent home from the East to die a soldier's
death. Twenty years had made another gap in
the ranks, for the name of the Reverend William
Roby could no longer be posted on roadside bul-
letins to capture the gaze of dreaming boys. He
too had died before his protege returned from
Africa to tell the thrilling story of the work he
had done.

A touch of strangeness fell upon Robert and
Mary as their ship glided into the harbor at
Cowes and cast anchor to await orders from Lon-
don, after the leisurely custom of olden times.
Were they coming home or had they left home
far, far behind? Was it the soft green shores of
England or the rugged coastline of South Africa
which betokened that magic spot called home?

From the irksome life on shipboard Mrs.
Moffat and the children hastened eagerly on
shore, there to be welcomed by the very friends
246

''THE SMOKE OF A THOUSAND VILLAGES"

in whose hospitable home Mary Smith had been
a guest twenty years before. MotTat lingered on
the ship, ostensibly to attend to the luggage and
write letters, but in reality overcome by shyness at
the thought of entering again the life and scenes to
which he had become a stranger. Little did the
half-homesick missionary suspect the tremendous
welcome which was awaiting him in his unfamiliar
native land.

In a few days the ship was ordered to London
and was towed by a steam tug up the Thames, a
novel experience for father and mother as well
as for Jack and Robert and all the rest of the
South African family. Scarcely had the mission-
ary escaped the tribulations of the custom-house
when the surprise of his life began. He was
spirited away to audience halls to address great
throngs of people who assembled at the mere
magic of the name Eobert Moffat. There could
not have been a more opportune time for him to
come home, for Christian England had been
stirred as never before, and perhaps never since,
over the needs of the world for Jesus Christ.
Missionaries from various quarters of the globe
had in recent years returned to Britain, among

247

THE MOFFAT S

them John Williams, whose visit was soon to be
made more memorable by the news of his martyr
death at Erromanga. Robert Moffat was another
of those far-flung pioneers whose tales literally
held ''children from play and old men from the
chimney corner."

With all the urgency of a political campaign the
missionary was hurried from town to town, trav-
eling by coach, as railroads were but few, on a
speaking tour which to his listeners was a never-
to-be-forgotten experience. In Scotland the chil-
dren dated their childish happenings from the
time Moffat spoke to them. In the north of Eng-
land he held an audience of boys and girls in rapt
attention for the space of an hour and a half.
Never was there such a story-teller, and never
were there such stories to tell! His grown-up
audiences came equally under the witchery of his
narrative and more profoundly under the sover-
eignty of his spirit. It would be difficult, indeed,
to determine in which place Robert Moffat's life
counted for more, in the foreign country where
he had spent his manhood or in the homeland
where his deeds of valor, quickened by his pres-
ence, stirred the popular conscience and raised
248

" THE SMOKE OF A THOUSAND VILLAGES "

the tone of living. Many young men and women
were led by his appeal to accept Christ and to
give their lives in definite Christian service at
home and abroad. Among them was a young
Scotch preacher, named William Ross, who went,
not long after, to the Moffats' own mission in
Bechuanaland.

It was Moffat's influence that constrained
another Scotchman to give his life to Africa, a
young doctor and scientist who was destined to
become the peerless missionary of all time. It
was in a boarding-house in Aldersgate Street,
London, that Robert Moffat became acquainted
with David Livingstone. The young man had fin-
ished his theological and medical studies and was
waiting for the Opium War to end, that he might
go as a medical missionary to China. Meantime
there came into his life that clear-cut, indomitable
personality who had braved the wilds of Africa
and wrought civilization out of savagery. Every
time Robert Moffat addressed a public assembly,
David Livingstone was there to hear. Gradually
he began to waylay the older man with one ques-
tion after another, until finally he ventured upon
the crucial inquiry toward which all his interest

249

THE MOFFAT S

had been tending. Would he do, did Mr. Moffat
think, as a missionary for Africa? ''Yes," came
the answer in no uncertain tones, "particularly
if you will not go to an old station but will push
on into unoccupied fields." Neither man realized
the prophecy contained in those words of chal-
lenge. "In the north," continued the missionary,
his eyes blazing with the vividness of recollection,
"I have seen in the morning sun the smoke of a
thousand villages w^here no missionary has ever
been." "The smoke of a thousand villages!"
David Livingstone brooded thoughtfully over the
words. At last, with characteristic directness, he
said, "Wliat is the use of my waiting here for the
end of this abominable Opium War? I will go at
once to Africa."

And to Africa he went at the end of the year
1840, in company with William Ross, the young
minister from Scotland. Now Mr. Ross had
taken unto himself a wife to share the vicissitudes
of his lot, but Dr. Livingstone was firmly resolved
upon a bachelor career, despite the motherly ad-
vice of Mrs. Moffat. He was fixed in his belief
that an unmarried man could do better service in
Africa, but Mrs. Moffat knew otherwise, for had
250

"THE SMOKE OF A THOUSAND VILLAGES'^

not her own Robert suffered unnecessary hard-
ship of body and mind as a lonely bachelor in
Afrikaner's kraal? David Livingstone was des-
tined to change his mind not long hence in those
halcyon days of reunion at Kuruman.

Meanwhile the prolonged stay in England
brought no holiday to the Moffat family, but
rather a work-day as strenuous as the Bechuana
mission itself. ' ' Long as our visit to England is, ' '
wrote Mrs. Moffat to Mr. Hamilton at Kuruman,
'4t is a state of constant excitement, bustle, and
anxiety. I long for my o\^m home. I long to see
the spot again where we have so long toiled and
suffered, for though loaded with the kindness of
friends and welcome .everywhere, still home is
homely (homelike)."

When the Moffats arrived in England in the
summer of 1839, they had expected to rush the
printing through and slip away to Africa before
winter. But alas for the frailty of human
expectations! The English public clamored
imperiously for Moffat's presence on the plat-
form, and after he had spoken in almost every
town in the kingdom, they clamored for a
book in which they could read the story of his

251

THE M OFF ATS

exploits after he himself had gone from their
hearing. Between speaking engagements he
read proof sheets of the New Testament and
translated into Sechuana the entire Book of
Psalms, working sometimes until late in the night
and arising early next day to set forth upon a
round of meetings. When David Livingstone and
William Ross sailed for Africa, they carried five
hundred copies of the newly printed New Testa-
ment. A few months later, and five times that
number were sent to Kuruman, each volume
containing the New Testament and Psalms in
Sechuana.

In the spring of 1842 another manuscript was
finished and published under the title, Labors and
Scenes in South Africa, a closely written narra-
tive, rich in anecdote and ethnic research. Scarcely
had the last proof sheets left the writer's hand be-
fore he was swept again into a torrent of public
meetings which continued until the departure for
Africa the next January. For the last two months
enthusiasm was sustained at a high pitch. In
Edinburgh clergymen and leading men assembled
to present a set of the EncyclopcEdia Britannica
to the Reverend Mr. Moffat, "as an expression of
252

" TEE SMOKE OF A THOUSAND VILLAGES "

ajffectionate regard from friends of different
Christian denominations." *'Your visit to us we
can never forget," said the chairman in his presen-
tation speech. ''The time when you spoke to us
will be as a sunny spot on the dusty and troubled
road along which we have to journey. We have
reaped a real and pure pleasure from the pictures
you have given us of missionary life — your ro-
mantic adventures, your hairbreadth escapes,
your bold exertions, your surprising successes.
You have opened before us a new page of human
society and character."

From Edinburgh he was hurried on to New-
castle, there to receive a set of scientific instru-
ments for use in revealing the wonders of natural
law to the natives of South Africa. Before he
left Scotland there was another flying visit to In-
verkeithing, where a proud and wistful mother
parted for the last time with her famous son.
Then down to Manchester, the city where his boy-
ish battles for love and loyalty had been fought
and won, where, likewise, Mary Smith had faced
the peculiar problems of her girlhood life ! How
strange it seemed for those two to trace again the
old, familiar ways after all the changes the years

253

TBE MOFFATS

had brought ! Dukinfield nursery no longer
offered a welcome to the one-time gardener, for
infirmity and financial misfortune had forced Mr.
Smith to leave the stone house, and to take up his
abode in a cottage at Flixton. There Mary Mof-
fat spent long fragments of her English visit, and
there took place a parting tinged with particular
sadness and anxiety.

At the historic, far-famed London Bridge, the
Motfat family, attended by a host of friends, em-
barked on a steamer which was to convey them
to the ship at Gravesend. There on shipboard
came the final, excruciating farewell, for upon the
shoulders of our missionaries had fallen at last
that peculiar and goading cross which the foreign
missionary cannot hope to avoid. They must
leave the children behind in the homeland for the
education which the non-Christian country must
ever fail to supply. Mary and Ann, the eldest, with
Jack, Elizabeth, and Jane, the three youngest,
were to return with their parents to South Africa,
but Robert and Helen, aged sixteen and fourteen,
were to stay in England. With pale, stricken
faces the boy and girl watched the distance widen
between themselves and the ship which was bear-
254

" TEE SMOKE OF A THOUSAND VILLAGES "

ing father, mother, brother, and sisters far away
to Africa. It was twenty-seven years before
Helen Moffat saw her parents again!

Under the gallant name of Fortitude the ship
braved wind and wave until she sighted Table
Mountain and sailed again into the rugged
harbor of Cape Town. From there the Moffats
went by coasting schooner to Algoa Bay, where
they waited, until even their rare patience was
exhausted, for the arrival of their baggage
shipped on a slow sailing vessel from England.
When, after months of delay, the tardy craft ap-
peared in the bay, it was but to tantalize the
travelers, for it was several days before she could
make a landing, owing to the storm which pre-
vailed. All one night Moffat paced the beach
while the gale tossed four vessels in wrecks upon
the shore. In the morning he found, to his relief,
that the Agrippina had held fast to her moorings
and the precious cargo was safe.

At last the wagons were loaded, and the caravan
was ready to start. The long spans of oxen
wound over the sandy plains, the ''crew" uttered
their weird yells, the long whips cracked like rifle
shots, and the covered wagons creaked gleefully

255

THE M OFF ATS

as the returning missionaries trekked slowly but
steadily toward home. At the Orange River, that
reminder of many an exciting escapade in days
past, they came upon a new device for transporta-
tion, a pontoon, or floating bridge, extended across
stream. It was a happy improvement upon the
tricky and uncertain method of fording, but what
if our travelers could have seen, even in fancy,
that immense iron bridge w^hich now spans the
river, and over which the railroad passes on its
famous route "from Cape to Cairo"!

A few more outspannings and inspannings, and
they came to another stream, crossable by fords
only, the Vaal River. Before they reached its
banks, they caught sight of a solitary figure on
horseback, coming forward through the wilder-
ness as if on purpose to meet them. ''Dr. Living-
stone," cried the Moffats in high glee! And Dr.
Livingstone it was who had ridden all the one hun-
dred and fifty miles from Kuruman to greet the
returning travelers. Was there a girlish heart,
think you, that beat tremulously as those keen,
gray eyes flashed a welcome into her own?

Beyond the Vaal the return was a triumphal
procession, for day by day old friends met them
256

"TEE SMOKE OF A THOUSAND VILLAGES"

with fresh relays of oxen to speed them on their
way. As they drew near to Kuruman, their ad-
vance was more like a royal progress, for no king
could have received more genuine homage from
his subjects than these missionaries from their
native peoples. When the last stage of the jour-
ney was reached, impatience could brook no delay,
and without stopping for the night, they kept on,
on, until at three o'clock in the morning of the
tenth day of December, 1843, the long caravan
passed under the Babylonian willows into the
long-lost home, Kuruman.

Even at that unseemly hour crowds gathered to
welcome them, and the next day and for many
days and weeks thereafter fjeople came from near
and far to look into the loved faces which they
had begun to think they should never see again.
Among the visitors came a bent and bowed figure,
about whom lingered a wistful suggestion of past
glory. It was Mothibi, chief of the Batlapings,
in whose village at Lattakoo the missionaries had
spent so many harrowing years. He and his
wife, Mahuto, had never joined the new settle-
ment at Kuruman, but had drifted away to the
southeast, grieved and disappointed over the

257

TBE M OFF ATS

death of Peclo, their first-born, and alienated from
the region where he had died. ^\niile the Moffats
were absent in England, Mothibi had come to
Kuruman to acknowledge at last, after all
his years of vacillation and indifference, his
allegiance to the Christian's God. It was a touch-
ing scene when Mothibi, with Mahuto, his wife,
alighted from their ox-cart and proceeded to the
Moffats' house, to express w^ith rapture their
thanks to God for having brought the mission-
aries safely home.

Meanwhile the new recruits, William Ross and
David Livingstone, prospected for new sites in
the regions beyond, Mr. and Mrs. Ross choosing
the village of Taung, one hundred miles to the
east, and Dr. Livingstone the Bakhatla tribe, two
hundred miles to the north. There in the forest
primeval he built his hut in a valley called Ma-
botsa, ''a marriage feast."

258

CHAPTER XVI
THE ALMOND-TREE OF KURUMAN

I shall not swerve a hairbreadth from my work while life is
spared. — David Livingstone.

'THERE . . . MAKY PLEDGED HIM HEB

LOVE AND LOYALTY WHILE LIFE

SHOULD LAST."

XVI
THE ALMOND-TREE OF KURUMAN

! UNSET is the "very witching time" of
day to those who catch its spell. The
daytime clamor is hushed, the practical
mood of toil subsides, and into the
world of young loves, ardent hopes, and
old griefs flits the unspoiled spirit of
man. It is the precious hour of ingathering,
when the treasures of life, its romance, and its
immortal faith are garnered anew to enrich the
labor of the morrow.

It was at this enchanted hour between daylight
and dark when atfairs at Kuruman took on a new
coloring of hope and significance, when the meas-
ure of the day's toil was computed and the unfin-
ished task defined. On a little hill overlooking
the town, the three missionary families met reg-
ularly for evening prayers and counsel. Before
them stretched the smiling valley which their own
efforts had transformed from a reedy morass into
a land of plenty. Upon the hills surrounding the
valley were perched the native villages with prim-

261

TRE MOFFAT S

itive, cone-shaped huts interspersed with cottages
of semi-European design. It was a singularly-
tranquil scene. The light blue smoke rose in the
still air, the cattle came slowly home to the folds,
the Bechuana boys took their evening canter upon
the backs of their young oxen, and the old men
talked of the days past when the Kuruman valley
was the haunt of the wild Bushmen with their

— poisoned arrows. What a miracle of beauty had
been wrought out of desolation! Along the val-
ley's edge ran the watercourses, overhung with
gray willows and dark green syringa trees with
their sweet-scented blossoms. The pomegranate
hedge with its scarlet flowers, the orange and fig
trees, the well-ordered gardens of corn, maize, and
native grain, all formed a lovely tropical back-
ground for the stately stone church, and the well-
built mission houses and school. The missionary

r~" who had once been a gardener in the scrupulously
kept estates of England had transferred his skill
to the untamed wilderness of South Africa, and

k. behold the result !

Long ago when Robert and Mary Moffat came
as bride and groom to the squalid village of Lat-
takoo, with its tangled thorn hedge, its straw huts,
262

THE ALMOND-TREE OF KURUMAN

and its barren land, they dared to dream of the
day when a bit of green, luxuriant England
should be transplanted into sandy, sterile Africa.
To few mortals is the blessed boon given to see the
dream of one's life come so completely true as it
did for our two missionaries in Bechuanaland.

The mission station at Kuruman had become in
the course of years a center of influence and hos-
pitality for the whole region north of Cape Col-
ony. It served as a kind of mother station to a
number of infant missions born in recent years
in the country north of the Vaal River. Supplies
of books, food, and clothing, as well as the more
needed commodity, practical advice, were always
forthcoming from the veteran family at Kuruman
to the new missionaries in the interior. Not only
missionaries but travelers and traders shared the
benefit of that Christian home. "Dear old Kuru-
man!" wrote Mr. Oswell, a well-known explorer,
*'you were a very oasis, peopled with the kindest
friends. My short visits to you were among the
happiest of my life ; no little kingdom ever had a
better king and queen, no home a better host and
hostess. How well I remember the exquisite ar-
rangement and order of the mother's household,

263

THE M OFF ATS

the affectionate interest in the wayfarers, and the
father's courtly hospitality and kindly advice, and
the ready willingness with which he lent himself
to smooth our difficulties and help us on our way.
Without Mr. Moffat's aid we should have fared
but poorly; with it the stones were taken out of
the path."

Under the great almond-tree at Kuruman,
which blossoms to this day, there was enacted a
scene of true springtime flavor. At many a
''witching hour" a young man and woman sat to-
gether under that tree, lost in the enchantment
of each other's society. The man had blue-gray
eyes, in which, as history tells us, no man ever
saw fear, but in which the maiden by his side saw
the dream light of love. He had the aspect of a
soldier wounded in the war, for his left arm hung
limp from the shoulder and his face bore the marks
of pain stoically endured. It was David Living-
stone, who had come down from Mabotsa after
that famous encounter with the lion of which
story-books delight to tell. He had followed the
tribe on a lion hunt, and a gigantic lion, the larg-
est ever seen by the natives, sprang upon him in
the frenzy of dying rage. The animal 's great teeth
264

THE ALMOND-TREE OF KURUMAN

crunched the doctor's left shoulder, shattering the
bone to splinters, and leaving eleven tooth-marks
upon his arm. Just as the monstrous paw struck
his head, a native fired a shot, thereby diverting
the beast's attention and nearly losing his own
life in the desperate game. To his dying day
David Livingstone carried a crippled arm which
gave him excruciating pain every time he lifted a
fowling-piece to his shoulder.

After the accident he went down to Kuruman to
secure healing for his wounded arm and solace
for his wounded heart. There under the almond-
tree the latter cure was wrought, for there Mary,
the oldest daughter of the Moffats, pledged him
her love and loyalty while life should last. The
high destiny of her womanhood was fulfilled in
that hour when David Livingstone asked her to be
his wife.

Another cord stretched from Kuruman to the
wilderness front when Mary Livingstone began
her pioneer career in the house which her husband
had built for her at Mabotsa, ''every brick and
every stick being put square by my own right
hand," as he laughingly boasted. In the adven-
tures of the bridal pair Mrs. Moffat lived anew her

265

THE M OFF ATS

early married life in the heathen surroundings of
Lattakoo. At Mabotsa, Chonuane, Kolobeng, and
in the ox-cart which made that matchless trek
across the Kalahari Desert to Lake Ngami, Mrs.
Livingstone, like her mother, gave her life a will-
ing sacrifice for the sake of the man she loved and
the cause they served.

While David Livingstone was discovering
worlds unknown in the mysterious depths of cen-
tral Africa, Robert Moffat was performing a
wonderful exploit of his own down in his study at
Kuruman. He was translating the Old Testa-
ment into Sechuana, hoping, before he died, to
give the whole Bible to the people in their native
speech.

It was a ''great and terrible labor," as the
novelist Balzac once said of his life-work. Had
Moffat been a student of Greek and Hebrew, the
task would have been simplified, but the meager-
ness of his early education increased the difficul-
ties as well as the marvel of the achievement.
Before transcribing even one short verse, he com-
pared several translations in order to catch the
meaning nearest the original. Sometimes he
would spend a whole forenoon upon two or three
266

THE ALMOND-TREE OF KURUMAN

verses, searching in lexicons, versions, and com-
mentaries for the exact significance. His head
suffered disastrously from the terrific strain, giv-
ing him pain night and day except when his trou-
bles were forgotten in the fascination of his task.
Pain, perplexities, and, worst of all, interruptions
every day and all day, as sudden as they were im-
perious ! These were the obstacles through
which the translator fought his way to the goal.
In the year 1857 the last verse was recorded, and
lo, his work of nearly thirty years was done ! He
himself was staggered by the realization. ^'I
feel it to be an awful thing to translate the Book
of God," he wrote. "When I had finished the
last verse, I could hardly believe that I was in
the world, so difficult was it for me to realize that
my work of so many years was completed. A
feeling came over me as if I should die. My
heart beat like the strokes of a hammer. My sen-
sations found vent by my falling on my knees and
thanking God for his grace and goodness in giving
me strength to accomplish my task."

Scarcely had the last sheets of the Old Testa-
ment come from the press before Moffat was off in
his ox-cart to visit his old friend Mosilikatse, now

267

TEE MOFFATS

hiding with his tribe in the wild and inaccessible
region south of the Zambezi.

Incursions of Dutch Boers into native territory-
had driven this warrior chieftain, the ''hero of
a hundred fights," into flight toward the north-
east and into a tribal isolation well-nigh impene-
trable. Once before, Moffat had worked his way
through an uncharted wilderness to the haunts of
Mosilikatse at the call of the chieftain to "Ra-
Mary." This time, however, his journey was
planned in far-away England. After David Liv-
ingstone had made his famous trek across conti-
nent from the east to the west coast and back
again, he had sailed home to England to join his
wife and plan even vaster explorations in Africa.
His presence aroused new interest in the native
tribes and led the London Missionary Society to
appoint missionaries for the Makololo and Mata-
bele, who lived in the marshes and forests of cen-
tral Africa. As a result of this decision Moffat
was asked by the directors to go for a year to the
Matabele, Mosilikatse 's tribe, and there, with the
help of two younger men, establish a permanent
mission.

It was a staggering proposition. Moffat was
268

THE ALMOND-TREE OF KURUMAN

over sixty years of age and had spent forty years
in hard work for the missionary society. To ac-
cept the proposal of the directors meant he must
live again the toil and hardship of his early years
at Lattakoo. To become a pioneer at the age of
sixty-two is no easy feat to perform. The unfet-
tered daring of youth has spent itself by the time
a man reaches middle life. But Robert Moffat,
by the constant use of his faculties in adventurous
tasks, had kept alive within him the intrepid spirit
of boyhood. In two days his mind was made up.
*'I will go," he said, ''but I must start at once and
first prepare the minds of Mosilikatse and his
people for the coming among them of missionaries,
and explain to them the whole plan." So off he
went on a preliminary trek of seven hundred miles
and back to negotiate a welcome for the future
missionaries. ''Yes," said Mosilikatse, "the
missionaries may come, but my friend 'Ra-Mary'
must come himself. These new men, I do not
know them. All men are not alike." Suspicion
had fallen upon all white people since the Boers
began their wanton assaults upon the native
tribes. Once admit the white settlers, and the
Boers and destruction were sure to follow. Thus

269

THE M OFF ATS

reasoned the native mind, not without some
foundation in fact.

In the year 1859 new missionaries had arrived
from England, and, with Moffat and his son John,
w^ere ready to begin their emigration to the far
frontier. It was a slow and laborious trek, for
the carts had to carry heavy loads to furnish
homes seven hundred miles removed from the
nearest shop. By night and day the wagons
struggled across the Kalahari, until they drew up
at last under the shadow of the Bamangwato
Mountains. From this point the sandy route
merged into a tangled forest trail along which
the ox-carts wound single file, beating their slow
w^ay through the grassy undergrowth. Scouts
went on ahead to choose the path which sometimes
circled around monstrous ant hills, stones, and
stumps. At times w^hen the forest became par-
ticularly dense a halt was called, and all hands,
black and w^hite, wielded the pickax and blazed a
trail. Foremost in these exertions w^as their vet-
eran guide, Robert Moffat, who was here, there,
and everywhere in turn, possessed of the energy
of three men. No step was more elastic, no figure
more erect, than that of the missionary who for
270

TBE ALMONB-TBEE OF KURUMAN

forty-three years had trekked over the African
veld, dug watercourses, reclaimed the stubborn
soil, built houses and even a stately stone church,
and translated the entire Bible and Pilgrim's
Progress into a language which he himself had
reduced to written form!

It was a trek of three months before the trav-
elers came at last to the camp of Mosilikatse, hid-
den in a gloomy forest on the banks of the Im-
pembezi River. There, in the king's court, "Ra-
Mary" received his old-time friendly welcome,
but toward the missionaries who had come to stay
the chief's attitude was enigmatical, to say the
least. As settlers, they were naturally eager to
plant their gardens before the rainy season be-
gan, but the chief evaded and procrastinated
whenever Moffat urged the selection of a site for
the mission station. Like the first missionaries in
Mothibi's kraal, they were kept waiting for per-
mission to settle. Meanwhile the tropical heat
and thunderstorms of summer overtook them
while they had no other shelter than the canvas
tilts of their wagons and the tents they had
pitched. The patience and tact of their leader

271

TBE MOFFATS

were never more sorely tried than in those days
and "WGcks of unexplained waiting.

It was the climax of perplexity when, without
warning, chief and people broke camp and stole
away into the forest. The missionaries were told
that men would be sent to escort them to the new
settlement, and with that promise they had to con-
sole themselves a fortnight longer, while their
supplies decreased daily. Never had Moffat been
given a more difficult problem to solve. Beset by
doubts, himself, and chafing under the enforced
inaction, he had to bolster up the failing courage
of his companions, who thought it a waste of time
to linger in the camp of a reluctant chieftain,
when other chiefs and other tribes were ready to
give them welcome.

One day in December, two months after their
first arrival, the evil spell was broken by the ap-
proach of two headmen, whose smiling faces be-
tokened good news at last. The chief was on his
way to Inyati, they announced, and had sent two
teams of oxen to transport the missionaries
thither. No time was lost in preparation. Tents
were struck, wagons were loaded, and they were
off on the trek, with the zest of boys dismissed
272

TEE ALMOND-TREE OF KURUMAN

from school. It was the day after Christmas
when their ox-carts drew up at the kraal of Inyati
and each man chose a tree under which to pitch
his tent and, perchance, later to build his house.
As Moffat had suspected, Mosilikatse and his
tribe had been fighting the old fear of Boer inva-
sion and debating the wisdom of allowing the mis-
sionaries to remain. With this point settled, the
most crucial stage of the undertaking was safely
passed. There remained, however, other and
heavy labor for Moffat to perform before he could
retrace his way through the forest jungle to Mary
and the two daughters who were left behind at
Kuruman.

The permanent settlement at Inyati was begun,
and early and late the veteran missionary was at
work, now at the sawpit, then at the blacksmith's
forge or carpenter's bench, or wherever his many-
sided skill could serve a need. Besides the man-
ual labor he must allow for hours spent in the
chief's company, when he sought in vain to estab-
lish connections with Dr. Livingstone's expedition
on the Zambezi. It was only after long persuasion
that Mosilikatse agreed to send carriers to Vic-
toria Falls with mail for the new missionaries

273

TEE MOFFATS

among the Makololo. Isolation had been the
watchword of the Matabele for twenty years. But
one trail to the outside world was kept open, and
that led to "Ea-Mary's" home at Kuruman, for
along that trail no evil was likely to travel.

When June came to the forests of Inyati, Moffat
knew that his task was fully done and he was free
to go home. On a Sunday morning he walked
along the narrow path to the chief's kraal to speak
for the last time with Mosilikatse and his people.
There in the courtyard the old, familiar scene
was enacted; the word of command was given;
the warriors filed in and seated themselves in a
semicircle on the ground; the women crouched
behind huts and trees to listen to the farewell
message of "Ea-Mary," the first white man they
had ever known and loved. Moffat knew it was
the last time he would face this black audience, for
never again could he come to the kraal of Mosili-
katse. Younger hands than his would minister
to the people's needs, younger voices than his
would teach them the way of eternal life. It was
a solemn scene, the climax of many urgent appeals
to chief and tribe to give their allegiance to the
great Chief who knew no white or black. On the
274

THE ALMOND-TREE OF KUHUMAN

morrow the ox-carts vanished do^vn the forest
trail, and Mosilikatse saw his friend ''Ra-Mary"
no more.

In the fever-stricken territory of the Zambezi,
beyond the haunts of the Matabele and the Mako-
lolo, another missionary fought the hardest battle
of his whole embattled life. There in the village
of Shupanga, David Livingstone struggled with
wild grief, for Mary, his beloved wife, lay dying.
Beside her rude bed, made of boxes but covered
with a soft mattress, watched "the man who had
faced so many deaths and braved so many dan-
gers, but who was now utterly broken down and
weeping like a child." From the hour of Mary's
death those blue-gray eyes which never showed
fear carried a grief which time could not efface.
In the journal which this lonely man made his
confidant were written these plaintive words : ''I
loved her when I married her, and the longer I
lived with her I loved her the more. Oh, my
Mary, my Mary ! how often we have longed for a
quiet home since you and I were cast adrift at
Kolobeng. ' *

Under the almond-tree at Kuruman, where chil-
dren's play and the romance of youth were once
enacted, loneliness and grief came to take up their

275

THE 31 OFF ATS

abode. But in the lives of Robert and Mary Mof-
fat grief never expelled thankfulness, nor loneli-
ness and old age the romance of true love. With
Scotch intensity they mourned the loss of their
first-born, but with Christian loyalty they re-
joiced that her life had been laid down in sacrifice
for the cause they loved.

Children and grandchildren came and went
under thfe great almond-tree ; the prattle of child-
ish voices was now heard and then lost in the
march of the years; but through all the changes
wrought by time Robert and Mary worked on un-
dismayed, "the strength of two being always felt
in each one's power." "Robert can never say I
hindered him in his work," remarked Mrs. Mof-
fat in the mission house in London upon their
final return to England. "No, indeed," affirmed
her husband, "but I can tell you s^ has often sent
me away from house and home for months to-
gether for evangelizing purposes and in my ab-
sence has managed the station as well as or better
than I could myself."

Meanwhile David Livingstone vanished into the
depths of the great continent, crying as he went,
"I will open up a path into the interior or perish."
276

CHAPTER XVII
THE REVEILLE

I go back to Africa to try to make an open path for com-
merce and Christianity; do you carry out the work which I
have begun. I leave it with you. — David Livingstone.

" THROUGH
ALL THE
MEMORIES
OF THE
PAST

ROBERT

MOFFAT

DREAMED

ANEW

THE FUTURE

OF HIS

ADOPTED

COUNTRY."

XVII
THE REVEILLE

T was a little gray and green village on
the banks of the River Carron, near
the Firth of Forth, a genuine little
Scotch town, like Thrums and Drum-
tochty. Stone cottages, built close to
the ground and close to one another,
cuddled under the big trees which shaded the vil-
lage street. In the midst of ampler grounds, bor-
dering the parish kirk, stood the manse, a more
pretentious structure than its neighbors, sur-
rounded by a mass of shrubbery and a vine-clad
garden wall. Collier boys played at "pitch-and-
toss" on the village green, while smaller children
clustered in the stone doorways of their cottage
homes. It was one of those quaint, appealing
little communities, with a spicy flavor of human
interest, which every lover of Scotland is quick
to catch. ''Once the lights of a little town are lit,
who could ever hope to tell all its story, or the
story of a single wynd in it. And who, looking at

279

THE M OFF ATS

lighted windows, needs to turn to books?" Thus
wrote the story-teller of Thrums.

One autumn day in the year 1872 two men drove
up to the village green in Carronshore and looked
about inquiringly. The elder had a baffled look,
as if hunting for something he desired supremely
and could not find. Wistfully he scanned the
cottages, the roadways, the truck-lines leading
to the coal-pits, and shook his head in disillu-
sionment. Nothing looked natural to the man
who had come back after sixty-three years to re-
visit his boyhood home. At last he caught sight
of a red-tiled cottage near some old storehouses,
and his eyes flashed with the delight of recogni-
tion. It was the very house in which he had lived
as a boy. With that landmark identified, the
whole place became gradually familiar, the village
green, the favorite nooks for play, the river wind-
ing behind the town, and here and there the homes
of one-time playmates. Had they all vanished,
those companions of bygone years, or could he
detect the boy or girl he used to know under the
guise, perchance, of yonder tailor sewing busily in
his shop, or that little old-fashioned figure run-
ning breathlessly across the green?
280

TBE REVEILLE

Even as he pondered the discoveries it might be
his lot to make, the little figure drew nearer, and
a woman clad in the quaint Scotch attire of short
skirt, short gown, and mutch seized him by both
hands and gazed rapturously into his face.
Haste, excitement, and chronic asthma combined
had bereft her of the power of speech, until at last
she gasped the words, *'Are — you — really — the
greiat Moffat?"

''Well, I believe I must be the person you refer
to, whether great or not," answered the tall old
man with a kindly smile, ''but why do you ask?"

"Wliy! Because I was at the schule wi' ye.
— My name is Mary Kay, and you'll surely come
to mind me ; I sat in the class next ye, and ye often
helped me wi' my lessons. I have aye keepit my
e'e on you since you left Carronshore, and I'll let
you see a lot of your ain likenesses. I was aye
sure you would come back to this place some day ;
and though I didna expect ye the noo, I'm fair
daft wi' joy at seeing ye."

It was a proud moment for Mary Kay when
she guided about the town the man on whom she
had "keepit her e'e" for sixty years. First, she
led him to the red-tiled cottage where the Moffat

281

THE M OFF ATS

family had lived so long ago. Wliat a drift of
memories the old house brought ! ' ' Our eight-day
clock stood here," said Moffat, as he looked about
the room which neither time nor occupation by
others had wholly altered. "The girnel (oat-
meal chest) stood there, and the aiimrie (cup-
board) in that corner." And then with a catch in
his voice he recalled the winter evenings, when,
behind the "lighted windows" and before that
very fireside, he sat w^ith his brothers and sisters,
knitting in hand, listening to the stories of the
Moravian missionaries which the mother was wont
to tell her little brood. It was that Scotch fireside
which had sent him out to South Africa to live
again those hero tales for the space of fifty yeai^.
From the red-tiled cottage Mary Kay led her
guests to her own humble home, where she pro-
duced Moffat's "ain likenesses," safely stowed
away in the leaves of an ancient volume of Bax-
ter's Saints' Rest. They were woodcut pictures
of Robert Moffat, clipped from magazines and
hoarded as priceless treasures. "They were all
faithful likenesses," she avowed, "and were even
like him yet, except that he had grown a terribly
lang beard, and she never could thole these lang
282

THE EEVEILLE

beards; although," she added apologetically, ''to
be sure, John Knox had a lang beard, just like
yersel'."

Were there other of his schoolmates still living
in Carronshore, Moffat sought to know? Mary
Kay could think of but one, and she, alas, was
away on a visit to her grandchildren at Greenock.
But hold, there was a master tailor in the place,
Andrew Johnstone by name. He might perhaps
remember. They would go and see.

The tailor sat cross-legged on his board plying
his needle industriously, as the visitors entered
his shop.

''Andrew, man," exclaimed Mary Kay by way
of introduction, "here's Moffat come to see you,
the great missionary from Africa."

"Aye, aye, maybe he is," was the gruff re-
sponse, "but there are plenty of folks ganging
about the country noo-a-days passin' themselves
off as great men, and they are just a wheen im-
postors."

Somewhat abashed by this chilly reception,
Mary Kay expostulated: "0 man, Andrew, are
you no believin' me? and I've kenned him myseP
a' my days."

283

THE M OFF ATS

Whereupon Andrew stopped sewing, looked
scrutinizingly at Moffat and remarked in the tone
of a judge pronouncing sentence, ''Are you aware,
sir, that if you were really the person you repre-
sent yourself to be, you would be the father-in-
law of Livingstone, the African explorer?"

**And so I am," was the quiet rejoinder.

At those words the crossed legs straightened
into the perpendicular, and Andrew stood upon
his feet, lifting his spectacles for a clearer view of
his amazing guest. ''Is it possible that the father-
in-law of Livingstone stands before me and under
my humble roof?" he said with awe. From that
moment his doubts were dispelled, and he strove
by further expressions of respect to atone for his
crusty welcome.

Meanwhile a crowd of collier boys and other
villagers had gathered about the tailor's door for
a glimpse of their distinguished visitor. Perceiv-
ing the eager faces, Moffat went quickly out of the
house and stood in their midst, while he told them
stirring anecdotes of his life in South Africa. Be-
fore he drove away from town to return with
his friend to Stirling, where he w^as visiting, he
promised to come back and tell them longer
284

BOBERT AND MARY MOFFAT, TWO

CHRISTIAN PILGRIMS WHO, IN

THE EVENING OF LIFE, LAID

DOWN THE BURDEN THEY

HAD BORNE THROUGH

FORTY YEARS OF

SACRIFICIAL

SERVICE

Photos. London Missionary Society

THE REVEILLE

stories about the black people of Bechuanaland.
That promise was more than once redeemed.

It is a long way to go from the village on the
banks of the Carron in Scotland to that other
village on the banks of the Kuruman in South
Africa, a long way in miles and a long way in ex-
perience,. But the longest and the hardest way
by far is that which leads back to Britain after
one's work in Africa is done. It is not coming
home then, but leaving home, the home of fifty
years.

When, in the year 1870, Robert and Mary Mof-
fat had stepped out of their house at Kuruman,
the house in which they had lived for forty years,
and walked to the ox-wagon which was to take
them to the coast, throngs of black people had
blocked the way, each striving for one last clasp
of the hand, one last comforting word before their
beloved leaders should go forever from their
sight. As the wagon crept down the shaded street
and away toward the south, all the people in the
village who were able to walk followed close be-
hind until they could go no further. Then it was
that a long, mournful wail rose in the air, a haunt-
ing token of the black man's grief.

285

THE MOFFATS

Yes, Eobert and Mary Moffat had returned to
England, leaving their own son, John, in charge
of the mission at Kuruman. A few days after
Christmas of that same year, in the cold of a
northern \vinter to which she was not inured,
Mary Moffat went out on her last voyage of dis-
covery, leaving Robert behind in the land of his
birth. The night before she died, she prayed audi-
bly and clearly that if it were God's will to take
her she might be walling to go, and that her hus-
band might have strength given him to bear her
leaving, and that his way might be made plain.
Unto the very last her thought was for him to
whom she had given her love so many years be-
fore in the stone house at Dukinfield. This time
it was Mary who must go, and Robert who must
stay, and God pity the lonely man who cried in
his anguish, "For fifty- three years I have had her
to pray for me!"

After Mary's death, Robert Moffat lived for
twelve years a busy and varied life in England
and Scotland, surrounded by children and grand-
children, and friends of all ages and ranks. Sig-
nal honors were heaped upon him, but to Robert
Moffat * * it was all the same where he was or with
286

THE REVEILLE

whom he spoke." Twice he was presented to
Queen Victoria at her own request; twice he
breakfasted with Gladstone; once he lectured in
the great nave at Westminster by invitation of
Dean Stanley; the Lord Mayor of London gave a
dinner in the Egyptian Hall in his honor; the
senate of Edinburgh University conferred upon
him the degree of doctor of divinity ; the freedom
of the city of London became his privilege; and
loyal friends presented him with a gift of money
totaling more than five thousand pounds, besides
the generous sum donated for Moffat Institute,
the training-school for African workers to be es-
tablished at Kuruman. Yet, withal, he could

Walk with Kings — nor lose the common touch,

And all men counted with him, but none too much.

The picturesque figure of Robert Moffat, the
veteran missionary, was constantly seen upon the
lecture platform, for, as he often said, ''people
either could not or would not see that he was
getting old." Once he crossed to Paris at the in-
vitation of the French Missionary Society and
there addressed an audience of four thousand
Sunday-school children. Up and down the United

287

TEE MOFFATS

Kingdom from Gosport to Edinburgh, from Dun-
dee to London, he pleaded, with voice still strong
and comj^elling, for the land of his adoption in
South Africa. When the aged man, with his long
white beard and the touch of majesty about his
bearing, walked with firm tread up the aisle, the
whole audience would rise simultaneously to its
feet to pay him homage. Nowhere was this
demonstration more appealing in its spontaneity
than in Manchester, the city where Robert Moffat
and Mary Smith once dedicated their young lives
to missionary service. To Manchester the feet of
the lonely missionary often turned, with the wist-
fulness of home-coming, and there in its halls and
homes his voice was often heard.

It was in the chief city of the realm and the
most historic edifice in Britain that Robert Moffat
received the culminating honor of his life, and,
paradoxical as it may sound, the honor which be-
fell him there, befell not him but another. On
that April day, as the Thames flowed gray and
swift by the Embankment, David Livingstone,
missionary and explorer, was buried in Westmin-
ster Abbey, the "silent meeting-place of the great
dead of eight centuries."
288

TRE REVEILLE

Open the Abbey doors and bear him in

To sleep with king and statesman, chief and sage,

The missionary come of weaver-kin,

But great by work that brooks no lower wage.

Under the dim, wonderful arches, in the beauty
of light and shadow, Robert Moffat sat in the
great nave of Westminster, surrounded by the
throng but alone in his grief and meditation. To
no one present did the scene bring such a throb-
bing passion of memories, for the man who that
day received the highest honor England can be-
stow upon her hero sons was his own son-in-law
and the partner of his dearest hopes for Africa.
The ritual of the burial service sounded rhythmic
and steady through the cathedral nave, but the
missionary was no longer under the great arches
of Westminster but far away under a fragrant
almond-tree which bloomed before a cottage door
in Kuruman. A young man and woman stood be-
fore him there, awaiting with bowed heads his
benediction to crown their marriage vows. On yet
another day he stood under the shade of the old
tree, watching an ox-cart creep away toward the
north, while his thoughts followed wistfully after
Mary, his own Mary, who was trekking away

289

TEE MOFFAT S

through the forests to visit the bridal pair in
their lonely frontier home and carry the comfort,
which only a mother can, to the hearts of her trou-
bled children. Then, in anguish of imagination,
he bowed before that desolate scene in the rough
cabin at Shupanga, where Mary Livingstone lay
dying and a strong man knelt by her side, broken
with grief but with face sternly set toward his
unfinished task for Africa. And finally there
passed before his mind that brave, sorrowful pro-
cession of black men, bearing on their shoulders
the body of their leader, David Livingstone,
through forest and jungle, hostile villages and
fever-ridden marshes, all the way from Chitambo's
Village in Ilala to the coast, a march of nine weary
months. Could the world ask fuller proof of the
African's loyalty than this feat of devotion, which
for sheer love and bravery has scarcely a parallel
in human history?

Through all the priceless memories of the past
that clustered about Mary and the children, David
Livingstone, Afrikaner, Mosilikatse, and all the
loyal black people, Robert Moffat dreamed anew
the future of his adopted country. Some day in
the years or centuries to come that misguided,
290

TBE REVEILLE

overlooked, outcast continent of Africa would
take its place in the great, forward movement of
races and nations. God hasten the dawning of
that day!

Kobert and Mary Moffat! David and Mary
Livingstone! From the depths of their loyal
Scotch hearts they gave impassioned service to
God for a continent of human need.

They met the tyrant's brandished steel,
The lion's gory mane,
They bowed their necks the stroke to feel,
Who follows in their train?

291

Date Due

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