One day Mr. Hamilton, who at that time had no mill to grind corn, sat
down and with much labour and perspiration, by means of two stones,
ground sufficient meal in half-a-day to make a loaf that should serve
him, being then alone, for about eight days. He kneaded and baked his
gigantic loaf, put it on his shelf, and went to the chapel. He returned
in the evening with a keen appetite and a pleasant anticipation of
enjoying his coarse home-made bread, but on opening the door of his hut
and casting his eye to the shelf he saw that the loaf had gone. Someone
had forced open the little window of the hut, got in, and stolen the
bread.

On another occasion Mrs. Moffat, with a babe in her arms, begged very
humbly of a woman, just to be kind enough to move out of a temporary
kitchen, that she might shut it as usual before going into the place of
worship. The woman seized a piece of wood to hurl at Mrs. Moffat's head,
who, therefore, escaped to the house of God, leaving the intruder in
undisturbed possession of the kitchen, any of the contents of which she
would not hesitate to appropriate to her own use.

A severe drought also set in, and a rain-maker, finding all his arts to
bring rain useless, laid the blame upon the white strangers, who for a
time were in expectation of being driven away. Probably, however, the
greatest trial at this time was caused by the conduct of some of the
Hottentots who had accompanied them from the Cape, and who being but new
converts were weak to withstand the demands made upon them, and brought
shame upon their leaders. Shortly after his arrival Moffat thoroughly
purged his little community. The numbers that gathered round the Lord's
table were much reduced, but the lesson was a salutary one and did good
to the heathen around.