He was the first brother clergyman Mr.
Robertson had seen since coming into Zululand, and the mingling of joy at the meeting, and of sorrow for Bishop Mackenzie, were almost overwhelming.

At Easter Mr.Procter and Miss Woodrow were married, in the little mission church, built of bricks made by Mr.Robertson's own hands and those of his pupils; and soon after Mr.and Mrs.Robertson set out in their waggon to escort the newly-married pair to Durban, taking with them several of their converts, and all their flock of adopted children.
The stay in Durban, and Pieter Maritzburg, among old friends, was full of comfort and pleasure; but the indefatigable missionary and his wife were soon on their way home, their waggon heavily loaded with boxes sent by friends in England, containing much that they had longed for--among other things, iron-work for fitting their church.

On the 18th of June, when they were three days' journey across the Tugela, while Mr.Robertson was walking in front of the waggon to secure a safe track for it, the wheels, in coming down a descent, slid along on some slippery grass, and there was a complete overturn, the waggon falling on its side with the wheels in the air, and Mrs.Robertson, and a little Kaffir boy of three years old, under the whole of the front portion of the load.
Her husband and the Kaffirs cut away the side of the waggon with axes, and tried to draw her out, but she was too fast wedged in.

She said in a calm voice, "Oh, remove the boxes," but before this could be done she had breathed her last, apparently from suffocation, for her limbs were not crushed, and her exceeding delicacy of frame and shortness of breath probably made the weight and suffocation fatal to her.

The little boy suffered no injury.
The spot was near a Norwegian mission station, where the kindest help was immediately offered to the husband.