churned about three Scotch pints of milk, from which
there were two pounds of butter, so you may conceive that the milk is
rich. I wish many times that my mother saw me. My house is always clean,
but oh what a confusion there is among my linen."

In November, 1818, letters reached Robert Moffat from England. One came
from Miss Smith, in which that young lady stated that she had most
reluctantly renounced hope of ever getting abroad, her father
determining never to allow her to do so. This was a sore trial, but it
only led the child closer to his Father, and that Father, who doeth all
things well, in His own good time, brought to pass that which now seemed
impossible.

Early in 1819, circumstances required Mr. Moffat to visit Cape Town.
Conversing with Africaner on the state and prospects of missions, the
idea flashed into Moffat's mind that it would be well for that chief to
accompany him, and he suggested it to his coloured friend. Africaner was
astonished. "I had thought you loved me," said he, "and do you advise me
to go to the Government to be hung up as a spectacle of public justice?"
Then, putting his hand to his head, he said, "Do you not know that I am
an outlaw, and that one thousand rix-dollars have been offered for this
poor head?" After a little while he replied to the missionary's
arguments by saying, "I shall deliberate and _roll_ (using the words of
the Dutch Version of the Bible) my way upon the Lord. I know He will
not leave me."

[Illustration: AFRICANER.]

To get Africaner safely through the territories of the Dutch farmers to
the Cape was a hazardous proceeding, as the atrocities he had committed
were not forgotten, and hatred against him still rankled in many a
breast. However, attired in one of the only two substantial shirts
Moffat had left, a pair of leather trousers, a duffel jacket, much the
worse for wear, and an old hat, neither white nor black, the attempt was
made, the chief passing as one of the missionary's attendants. His
master's costume was scarcely more refined than his own.

As a whole, the Dutch farmers were kind and hospitable to strangers,
and as Moffat reached their farms, some of them congratulated him on
returning alive, they having been assured that Africaner had long since
murdered him. At one farm a novel and amusing instance occurred of the
state of feeling concerning them both. As they drew near to this place,
Moffat directed his men to take his waggon to the valley b