Once, whilst Moffat was away on a visit to a neighbouring tribe, his wife was aroused in the night by the report that a hostile tribe had invaded their territory and was close upon them. So Mrs. Moffat had to prepare for flight, but ere she had finished her preparations the good news came that the tribe had gone off in another direction. Yet even then she was in fear for her husband's life. But three weeks later, after enduring terrible anxiety, her husband returned in safety, having managed to escape the enemy. Gradually a great and wonderful change came over the people amongst whom Robert and Mary Moffat lived. From utter disregard of teaching they began to exhibit signs of spiritual life, and a number were baptised and received into the Church. [Illustration: Letter] In 1871 Robert and Mary Moffat, after living in Africa for upwards of half a century, returned home. From the letter to Mr. G. Unwin, which is here reproduced in facsimile, it will be seen that Robert Moffat's labours were not even then finished; for up to the last he took the greatest interest in the missionary cause. [Illustration: Reduced Facsimile letter from Moffat.] His useful life came to an end in August, 1883, when he was in his eighty-eighth year. "THE LADY WITH THE LAMP." THE STORY OF FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. "Lo! in that house of misery A lady with a lamp I see Pass through the glimmering gloom, And flit from room to room." LONGFELLOW. "She would speak to one and another, and nod and smile to many more, but she could not do it to all, you know, for we lay there by hundreds; but we could kiss her shadow as it fell, and lay our heads on our pillows again, content." So wrote one of the soldiers from the hospital at Scutari of Florence Nightingale, the soldier's nurse, and the soldier's friend. Let us see how it happened that Florence Nightingale was able to do so much for the British soldiers who fought in the Crimea, and why she has left her mark on the history of our times. Miss Nightingale was born in the city of Florence in the year 1820, and it is from that beautiful Italian town that she derives her Christian name. Her father was a good and wealthy man, who took great interest in the poor; and her mother was ever seeking to do them some kindness. Thus Florence saw no little of cottage folk. She took them dainties when they were ailing, and delighted to nurse them when ill. She loved all dumb animals, and they seemed to know by instinct that she was their friend. One day she came across her father's old shepherd, looking as miserable as could be; and, on inquiring the cause, found that a mischievous boy had thrown a stone at his favourite dog, which had broken its leg, and he was afraid it would have to be killed. Going together to the shepherd's home they found the dog very excited and angry; but, on Florence speaking to it in her gentle voice, it came and lay down at her feet, and allowed her to examine the damaged limb.