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DUKE 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 DIVINITY SCHOOL 
 LIBRARY 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
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 DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 (On first going to Africa.) 
 
 “HE NEEDS NO EPITAPH TO GUARD A NAME 
 WHICH MEN SHALL PRIZE WHILE WORTHY WORK IS KNOWN$ 
 HE LIVED AND DIED FOR GOOD—BE THAT HIS FAME: 
 LET MARBLE CRUMBLE; THIS IS LIVING-STONE.” 
 
LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 DAWID LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 The Heroic Ghristian Missionary and African Explorer. 
 
 INCLUDING AN AUTHENTIC AND SOMEWHAT EXTENDED ACCOUNT OF HIS 
 MORE IMPORTANT TRAVELS, MISSIONARY LABORS, AND DISCOVER- 
 IES; TOGETHER WITH THE MOST COMPLETE PROCURABLE 
 INFORMATION TOUCHING HIS LAST ILLNESS AND 
 DEATH, AND A FULL DESCRIPTION OF THE 
 OBSEQUIES AT WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 BY ANNI MARIA BARNES. 
 (cousin ANNIE.”? ) 
 
 Diligently Revised, Edited, and Ilustrated. 
 
 SUNDA Y-SCHOOL DEPARTMENT. 
 
 PUBLISHING HOUSE OF THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH, SOUTH. 
 BARBEE & SMITH, AGENTS, NASHVILLE, TENN. 
 1900. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congr 
 BY THE BOOK AGENTS OF THE METHODIST PI 
 in the oftice of the Librarian of Cong 
 
 (4) ele 
 
Ae 
 
 a SS SS ee 
 
 TO 
 My TRUE AND TRIED FRIEND, 
 Mr. WILLIAM A. HAYGOOD, 
 OF ATLANTA, GA., 
 
 In GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE. 
 
 “YS 
 
AUTHORITIES CONSULTED. 
 
 Blaikie’s ** Personal Life of David Livingstone.” 
 
 Roberts's ** Life and Explorations of David Livingstone.” 
 McGilchrist’s ‘* Life of the Great African Traveler, Dr. Livingstone.”’ 
 Day’s “African Adventure and Adventurers.” 
 
 Extracts from Livingstone’s ‘* Missionary Travels and Researches in 
 South Africa.” 
 
 (6) 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Cuaprer I. 
 
 Parentage—Early Years—His Life as a Factory Boy—The Awak- 
 ening of Noble Impulses—His Filial Devotion—His ‘* Bred-in- 
 the-bone”’ Perseverance — Nature's Instructions — Geological 
 Researches—-Locked Out—His Patient Submission to His Fa- 
 (ener yd VY TU aceactee cs Secor eee cece = Ee ee eS 
 
 Cuapter II, 
 
 His Home Life—The Tender Regard Shown His Sisters—His Keen 
 Sense of the Humorous—A Laughable Episode—The Spiritual 
 Change that Came to Him—He Enters the University as a Med- 
 ical Student—His Determination to Become a Missionary........, 
 
 Cuapter IIT. 
 
 A Question that Vexed the World—The Sources of the Nile—The 
 Bruce, Speke, and Baker Expeditions—England Triumphant 
 —The Spirit that Moved Livingstone............... metec tees aoe ecens 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 Livingstone’s Arrival at Cape Town—The Popular Theory Con- 
 cerning Africa—The Trip Across the Country to Kuruman—He 
 Hears of a Wonderful Lake—A Journey Farther Into the Inte- 
 rior—His reception by the Bechuanas—The First Sowing of the 
 Good Seed—Meets with Bubi—A Shocking Occurrence— 
 
 ekomi’s Troublesome Heart—The Visit to the Bakaa— His 
 
 PENe Sermon Discovers Tron Manufacturing People—An 
 Amusing Predicament— Urn Co Kuruman... = 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The Bakatlu Welcome Livingstone’s Return with Great Demon- 
 strations—His Lion Advenfure—He becomes a Hero—His Mar- 
 riage to Mary Moffat—Their Home at Mabotsa—They Leave 
 Mabotsa for Chonuane—The Great Chief, Sechele— The Re- 
 moval to Kolobeng—** Did Your Fathers Know?’’—Sechele’s 
 Conyersion—The Maliciousness of the Boers— Livingstone’s 
 Braye Deed—He Establishes a Claim Upon the Bakwains—An 
 Enthusiastic Bellman—The Missionary’s Earnest Work Be- 
 gins to be Rewarded...............00 soo es vp cos eeenseee fete seeeeceee ee 
 
 Cuaprer VI. 
 
 An African Village—The Government of the Bechuana Tribes— 
 Sechele Erects a Church and School-house ** To the Honor of 
 God”—Mrs. Liyingstone’s Noble Labors—The Cheerful Life of 
 the Brave Missionary and His Wife—A Trying Period—Living- 
 stone’s Enduring Patience and Unshaken Trust—The African 
 Method of Procuring Meat—The Hostile Attitude of the Boers 
 Grows More Threatening—Sechele’s Noble Reply.............000 mal 
 
 Cuaprer VII. 
 
 Livingstone Starts in Search of Lake Ngami—The Kalahari Desert 
 —Sekomi’s Treacherous Behayior—The Bushmen and Bakla- 
 hari—Livingstone’s Hospitable Reception—Crossing the Des- 
 ert—The Scarcity of Water—Sufferings and Hardships— The 
 Deception of the Mirage—Reaching the Zouga—New Hopes 
 and Desires—Livingstone’s Absorbing Dream—The Wonderful 
 zane and the Country Surrounding It—The Return to Kolo- 
 
 “Ecco st seececceses Doce eco Sree eee 
 
 313497 
 
 PAGE 
 
 27- 36 
 
 37- 42 
 
 59- 77 
 
 TS 86 
 
8 CONTENTS. 
 
 Cuaprter VIII. PAGE 
 
 How the News of the Discovery of the Ngami and Zouga was Re- 
 ceived in England—The Endeavor to Reach the Great Chief, 
 Sebituane—Second Attempt—Mrs. Livingstone and Her Chil- 
 dren of the Party—Failure of the Undertaking—Return to Kolo- 
 beng—Dastardly Raid of the Boers—Third and Successful At- 
 tempt to Reach Sebituane—Incidents by the Way—Sebituane’s 
 1 OTSEETB Teoraasecreenrecrencen easeosearconsesesusacesedssceaess seals siassshn it se hsiitstay tetaaaesie an 107-123 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Mamochisane Succeeds Sebituane—Her Graciousness to Living- 
 stone—Livingstone and Oswell Make a Short Journey of Ex- 
 ploration—Discovery of the Zambesi—The Charming River 
 Country—The Abundance of Animal Life—Livingstone’s Ten- 
 der Heart—A Pathetic Scenen. i... sscscsesssctsssunverneeeseeeneeeenenee FRocceene 124-137 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 .._A Horrifying Incident — Livingstone Heart-sick Because of the 
 “——___ Slave-trade—His Determination to Find a Remedy—A Gigan- 
 tic Undertaking—He Sends His Family to England—His Touch- 
 ing Letters to Them—The Proposed March from “Sea to Sea” 
 —Another Attack by the Boers upon Sechele—The Indignant 
 
 Chief’s Intended Visit to the Queen. ............ssccccccesssccssrecsssessnseene 138-150 
 
 Cuaprer XI. 
 
 The Departure from Kuruman—Heayy Rains—The Flooded Dis- 
 tricts—Terrible Sufferings of the Party—Livingstone’s Courage 
 and Trust—Arrival at Linyanti—The Young Chief Sekeletu— 
 Incidents of the Sojourn at Linyanti—The Mission-work Among 
 the Makololo—Sekeletu’s Dangerous Rival........... neetpcrerrteceeeenens ~ 
 
 Cuapter XII. 
 
 The Start in Search of a Healthy Locality—The Demonstrative 
 Reception by the People— Livingstone Frustrates Mpepe’s 
 Wicked Design—Mpepe’s Death—Up the Zambesi—A Pathetic 
 Incident—The Valley of the Barotse—Heathenism in its Most 
 Revolting Aspect—The Barotse Dance of Welcome—Living- 
 stone Visits Katonga—Pushes Farther up the Riyer—Contin- 
 ued Discouragement—The Return to Linyanti............... cheeencecae 166-178 
 
 Cuaprer XIII. 
 
 Livingstone Again Labors Among the Makololo—His Letter to His 
 Children—The Start from Linyanti for the Coast—Arrival at 
 Sesheke—Incidents—The Journey up the Zambesi—Glimpses 
 of African Natural History—Manenko, the Amazon Chieftain- 
 ess—Two Native Belles—Approaching the Stronghold of the 
 SVavie DraMhe ooo cecessenssccseceonceqtsure seceeneveleacetanetasteyaeaneeeaaeennEee noon 179-201 
 
 CuHaApTer XIV. 
 
 Questionable Hospitality—At the Village of Nyamoana—A Cor- 
 dial Reception—The Balonda Court of State—Gallantry of Liy- 
 ingstone—Proposed Journey to Shinte’s Town—Atrrival of Ma- 
 nenko—The Start for Kabompo—Marching Through the Rain 
 Incidents Of the Way ..::....ccsccccso+-tsscercerssn sonnet hee soe eaRanoR RE RED = DnEy 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The Charming Situation of Kabompo—An Ideal Native Village— 
 The Blot that Obseured the Smiling Fairness of the Seene—The 
 Reception at the Kotla—The Private Interview with Shinte— 
 Manenko Again Heard From—The Impressions Created by the 
 Magic Lantern—Shinte’s Water-drawer—Sambanze is given 
 More than a Curtain Lecture—Livingstone is Shocked by a 
 Proposal of Shinte’s— Preparations to Leave Kabompo—The 
 Chief Gives Eloquent Proof of His Friendship ....... Borer seen seeeeeee 217-230 
 
 151-165 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Cuaprer XVI. 
 
 A Country of Luxuriant Forests—Further Signs of Idolatry—A 
 Potent Question —The “Great Lord Katema”—Livingstone 
 Renders an Important Service—Katema’s Gratitude—The Hos- 
 pitality of His People—The Good Mozinkwa and His Wife—An 
 Amateur Snuff Manufacturer—The Story of the Cross—A Wind 
 from the North—Crossing the Great Water-shed of the North 
 and South Rivers—Inhospitable Tribes— An Extraordinary 
 “Pikeman ”—The Steadfast Devotion of the Makololo............... 
 
 Cuaprer XVII. 
 
 Desperate Straits—The Hostile Chiboque— Livingstone’s Calm- 
 ness and Courage Save the Party—Seized with Fever—The 
 Men Threaten Mutiny—A Decisive Moment— Livingstone’s 
 Nerve—The Hearts oi the Makololo Fail Them—A Gloomy 
 Sunday—Light Through the Clouds—‘* Children of Jesus ”— 
 Nearing the Portuguese Settlements—Across the Quango—Hos- 
 pitality of the People—In Sight of the Sea—Rest at Last........... 
 
 Cuarrer XVIII. 
 
 The Mystery Cleared—Livingstone’s Dangerous Illness and His 
 Recovery—He Calls Upon the Bishop—The Makololo Make a 
 Fine Impression—Free Passages to England are Offered Liv- 
 ingstone—The Heroic Stand for Duty—He Takes His Men on 
 Shipboard—Their Wonder at the Strange Sights—The Depart- 
 ure from Loanda—Generosity of the Merchants—The Return 
 Through the Portuguese Settlements—Incidents of the Way— 
 eee Little Ruse—At Katema’s Town—Shinte’s— Home 
 
 JERSE spocecnoeescott ace aseeee occ eee cee eee eee Re CE ee 
 
 CHapTrerR XIX. 
 
 The Departure for the East Coast—Sekeletu’s Proof of His Devyo- 
 tion—The Grave of the Chief Sekote—The Great Victoria Falls 
 —The Country of the Batoka—A Degraded Tribe—The Gospel 
 of Peace—Dangers and Diflficulties—At the Junction of the Lo- 
 angwa and the Zambesi—Hostility of the Tribes—A Perilous 
 Position—The Revengeful Chief, Mpende—In Answer to Prayer. 
 
 Cuaprer XX. 
 
 Gradually Increasing Signs of Civilization—Sand-filled Rivers— 
 At Monina’s Village—Death of Poor Monahin—Worn Down 
 with Fatigue—A Civilized Breakfast—At Tete—Generosity and 
 Hospitality of Major Sicard—Ilness—Arrival at Kilimane— 
 Greeted with Sad Intelligence—Insanity and Death of Sekwebu 
 —The Departure for Home—Arrival in England—Enthusiastie 
 Reception—Livingstone’s Extreme Modesty— The Quiet So- 
 journ at Ni ewstead Abbey—Literary Labors .............0.0 a Ae 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Return to Africa—The Reception at Cape Town—The *“* Ma-Rob- 
 ert’”’—Object of the Second Expedition—Discovery of the True 
 Mouth of the Zambesi—The Sail Up the River—Arrival at Tete 
 —The Kebrebasa Rapids—Unsatisfactory Conduct of the ** Ma- 
 Robert ”—Exploration of the Shire—Discovery of Lakes Shirna 
 and Nyassa—Steps Toward the Establishment of a Mission 
 Station—Unexpected News of the Arrival of a Little Stranger. 
 
 CuHaprer XXII. 
 
 Going Home with the Makololo—A Second Look at the Victoria 
 Falls—Painful News—Arvival at Sesheke—Sekeletu’s Terrible 
 Condition—Livingstone Effects a Cure—Painful Forebodings in 
 Regard to the Makololo—The Return to the Tete—Devotion of 
 Livingstone’s Men—Dr. Kirke Meets with _a Loss—The New 
 Steamer ‘ Pioneer”—Arrival of Bishop McKenzie and>Assist- 
 
 PAGE 
 
 231-245 
 
 246-258 
 
 259-273 
 
 274-294 
 
 295-308 
 
 309- 330 
 
10 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 ants—To the Mouth of the Rovuma—Up the Shire—At Chibisa’s 
 Town—Liberation of the Slaves—An Errand of Peace Turned 
 Into One of War—The New Mission—Arriyal of Mrs. Living- 
 stone, Miss McKenzie, and Others—Disastrous Ending of the 
 Little Mission—IlIness and Death of Mrs. Livingstone—Second 
 Exploration of the Rovuma—Again up the Shire—An Appalling 
 State of Affairs—Tne Curse of the Slave-trade......cccccsccsesceeeneee . 831-350 
 
 Cuarter XXIII. 
 Livingstone Again in England—Death of His Mother—* 
 and Work Hard ”—His Impressions in Regard to the Nile 
 Sowrees=The Return to Africa—The Start for the Interior— 
 Bad Conduct of the Men—The World Loses Sight of Him—Re- 
 ported Death—Fears and Doubts—Mr. Young Goes in Search 
 of Him—News of His Safety—Letters—The Dispatches from 
 Bangweolo—Another Period of Silence and Suspense—Stanley 
 LO The FRESCUC. ....iiir.cccccceccsereasaces scnesensessnbeeedansehiee ese aets eae 351-362 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Sore Straits—Loss of the Medicine-chest — Across the Chimbwe 
 and Chambeze—Lake Tanganyika — Moero—At Cazembe’s— 
 Atrocious Cruelties—Missionary Labors—The Start in Search of 
 Lake Bangweolo—Desertion of the Men—Return from the Lake 
 —On the Road to Ujiji—Distressing Illness—Across Lake Tan- 
 ganyika—Avrrival at Ujiji—Disappointments—A nother Weari- 
 some Tramp—Ujiji Again—Livingstone is Found by Stanley.... 369-390 
 
 Cuaprer XXY. 
 Stanley’s Description of Livingstone—Examination of Northern 
 End of Lake Tanganyika—The Departure from Ung ene Sep- 
 aration at Unyanyembe—News of the Finding of Livingstone 
 —Later Reports of His Death—Reports Confirmed—The Last 
 Tramp—lImess—Last Hours—Death. ..........cccccseeeeeceneeeeeee Senemareabe 391-413 
 
 Cuapter XXVI. 
 Devotion of Livingstone’s Men—The Body Borne to the Coast—Ar- 
 rival in England—Universal Sorrow—Obsequies at Westmin- 
 
 ster Abbey—Inscription Upon the Tomb........... ancien enadheiy 14-423 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 David Livingstone 2 
 On the Bosom of the Mystic Nile...........-..1.:::scsscssencsessesneraney - 36 
 tude Methods of Agriculture as Practiced by 50 
 The Terror Of Bamangw ato. .-2..c..---ccesscerescs <ocns= aeemieeeaeeeenenane 52 
 Livingstone’s Rescue from the Lion.. 62 
 An African WALL RE&S 3. at cade ar ene eceaneen ence 79 
 Some Inhabitants of the Zouga Jungle 102 
 The Wily Bird in His Native Bush.... 114 
 A Disastrous Elephant Hunt... 127 
 The King of the African Fores - 130 
 A Bevy of Linyanti Belles..... 159 
 Tribal War-dance................. 176 
 Spoonbill and Companion Birds 193 
 One of Shinte’s Subjects........... 220 
 A Forest Prowler...............06 . Wt 
 Victoria Falls, Zambesi River 278 
 On the Zambesi Delta.............. 314 
 Tree-dwellers in Africa........ 
 
 A Missionary Station in Africa.. 
 Baobab-tree and Native Hut 
 Henry M. Stanley. 
 Chumah and Susi..... 
 Stanley Meeting Livingstone................... 
 
 Livingstone Carried through the Swamps 
 Livingstone’s Last Journey.............ccescceeeee Pe 
 Livingstone Carried Into the Hut to Die... cc eeceeeeeeeeeeees ennakenausanee +. 408 
 
1AFE OF DAVID LLVINGSTONE. 
 CHAerek —& 
 
 PARENTAGE — EARLY YEARS—HIS LIFE AS A FACTORY BOY—THE 
 AWAKENING OF NOBLE IMPULSES—HIS FILIAL DEVOTION—HIS 
 “BRED-IN-THE-BONE” PERSEVERANCE—NATURE’S INSTRUCTIONS 
 —GEOLOGICAL RESEARCHES—LOCKED OUT—HIS PATIENT SUB- 
 MISSION TO HIS FATHER’S WILL. 
 
 HE story of no other life can be read with greater prof- 
 it by the youth of to-day, nor can any other convey to 
 them a stronger or a more beautiful lesson of courage, faith, 
 and self-denial, than that of David Livingstone, the in- 
 trepid Christian missionary and explorer. From its earli- 
 est childhood to its sad and pathetic close, that life bears 
 eloquent testimony of what determined will, untiring effort, 
 and a pure and steadfast devotion to an ennobling purpose 
 can accomplish. Whether as factory boy, or as the reso- 
 lute young medical student plodding the eighteen miles each 
 day to and from his university, or as the courageous and 
 devoted missionary in the very heart of savage Africa, every 
 incident of Livingstone’s striking career affords instructive 
 and elevating study. 
 To “ Bonnie Scotland ” is due the honor of having given 
 to the world four of its most famous African travelers and 
 explorers—Mungo Park, Moffat, Bruce, and David Living- 
 
 stone. Of all these names, each of which has justly won 
 (11) 
 
12 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 its measure of renown, that of David Livingstone stands 
 deservedly at the head. 
 
 It was at Blantyre, Lanarkshire, Scotland, a town de- 
 voted almost entirely to the cotton factory interests, that 
 David Livingstone was born, March 19th, 1813. His par- 
 ents were humble but pious and worthy people, who early 
 sought to instill into the minds of their children those higher 
 principles of truth and integrity that should be their guide 
 through life. Of his father many contradictory accounts 
 are given. Some speak of him as an exceedingly stern, 
 hard man; others again as a lenient and kindly one. It is 
 probable that, like so many of his rugged race, he com- 
 bined in his character both kindliness and rigor. There 
 are various little incidents that go to prove that he was the 
 possessor of many admirable qualities, though so rigid and 
 unyielding on most points. That his children feared him, 
 there can be no doubt; that they also loved and revered 
 him, the after testimony of his famous son bears eloquent 
 witness. When crowned with honors, and when, with the 
 admiration and applause of the whole civilized world di- 
 rected toward him, he was hastening from the interior of 
 Africa on his first return to England, he declared that he 
 anticipated no greater pleasure than that of sitting by his 
 father’s humble fireside and relating to him the many inci- 
 dents of his travels and explorations. What was the ap- 
 plause of a world, the praise of the highest and mightiest— 
 even the commendation of his Queen—to that aged parent’s 
 honest pride and child-like delight in his recitals? But 
 alas! it was not to be. Ere he had yet come in sight of his 
 native shores, the news of his father’s death was borne to 
 him. He was so overcome that for days he took little note 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 13 
 
 of what was going on around him. Afterward, when speak- 
 ing of his loss and of his father’s excellence, he declared: 
 “T honor and revere his memory.” Again he says: “ He 
 deserves my lasting gratitude and homage for presenting 
 me from infancy with a continuously consistent, pious ex- 
 ample—such as that the ideal of which is so beautifully and 
 truthfully portrayed in Burns’s ‘ Cotter’s Saturday Night.’” 
 Those familiar with this homely yet strong and beautiful 
 picture of the aged and pious cotter can well appreciate the 
 son’s loving and tender tribute. 
 
 Of his mother there are no conflicting accounts—only 
 the one testimony unwavering throughout: gentle, patient, 
 brave, and tender—such a mother as imprints in letters of 
 gold upon the minds and hearts of her children life’s best 
 and noblest lessons; such a mother as causes her influence 
 to be felt from generation to generation. There is strength 
 as well as beauty in the saying of the old Jewish rabbi: 
 “God corld not be everywhere, and therefore he made 
 mothers.” A mother in the truest sense was the mother of 
 David Livingstone. Though possessed of but little educa- 
 tion, she was nevertheless a woman singularly sweet and re- 
 fined in her manner, quiet and gentle in all that she did. 
 Her loving and kindly nature was in distinct contrast with 
 her husband’s sterner, more rugged disposition. In every 
 thing she was a worthy and noble helpmeet to him; to her 
 children a mother whom they might indeed “rise up and 
 call blessed.” Her own beautifully consistent Christian 
 example had much to do with keeping alive in their hearts 
 a reverence for sacred things—such a reverence as grows 
 into the character, molding it and building it into a strong 
 and fearless structure, against which the fierce waves of in- 
 
14 - LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 fidel creeds may in after years dash in vain. Beyond a 
 doubt, this sweet and gracious example was oftener pro- 
 ductive of good results than were her. husband’s sterner 
 methods. 
 
 Like nearly all the Highlanders, Dr. Livingstone’s an- 
 cestors were Roman Catholics; but when the Protestant 
 religion was sweeping all else before it in Scotland, the 
 sturdy old chief of the clan was converted to it, and be- 
 came one of the most uncompromising of the believers. 
 
 Dr. Livingstone was always proud of his ancestry— 
 proud in a justly commendable way; for though none of 
 them had ever been rich in this world’s goods, or highly 
 distinguished as far as worldly honors go, they had been 
 something better and nobler still—honest, fearless men, 
 with not a stain upon a single name through a long line. 
 How much grander such a record than mere titles, rank, 
 or emblazoned escutcheons! What nobler title can there 
 be than that of “honest gentleman?” what mightier ensign 
 than that of “Truth” indelibly stamped upon one’s life: 
 banner? 
 
 There was a tradition in the Livingstone family of one 
 of the ancestors, a poor but sturdy and honest old High- 
 lander, who, when he lay upon his death-bed, called his 
 children around him and thus exhorted them: “ Now, in 
 my life-time I have searched most carefully through all the 
 traditions I could find of our family, and I never could dis 
 cover that there was a single dishonest man among our 
 forefathers. If, therefore, any of you, or any of your chil- 
 dren, should take to dishonest ways, it will not be because 
 it runs in our blood. It does not belong to you. I leave 
 this precept with you: ‘Be honest!’” What a record to 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 15 
 
 stand from generation to generation, unaltered! “Not a 
 dishonest man among us.” Ah! truly “a good name is 
 rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor than 
 silver and gold.” 
 
 In the preface to his “ Missionary Travels and Researches 
 in Southern Africa,” Dr. Livingstone gives a brief sketch 
 of his early life, together with some information in regard 
 to his more immediate ancestry. Throughout it bears the 
 stamp of that modest diffidence so noticeable at all times 
 when he speaks of himself or of things directly concerning 
 himself. No man ever lived and attained to the heights 
 of eminence reached by David Livingstone, and withal 
 preserved a sincerer and more entire forgetfulness of his 
 own identity. It was this singularly sweet modesty of de- 
 meanor, this entire putting away of self, that made him 
 more admired and beloved than all the mtrepid endurance 
 that carried him through the heart of a savage country, or 
 the bold courage that made him the hero of a hundred 
 hair-breadth escapes. Speaking of his ancestors, in the 
 preface to which we have alluded, Dr. Livingstone remarks: 
 “One great-grandfather fell at the battle of Culloden, 
 fighting for the old line of kings, and one grandfather was 
 a small farmer in Ulva, where my father was born. It was 
 ‘one of that cluster of the Hebrides spoken of by Sir Wal- 
 
 ter Scott: 
 And Ulva dark, and Colonsay, 
 
 And all the group of islets gay 
 That guard famed Staffa round.” 
 
 Dr. Livingstone was very fond of the traditions and the 
 legends of his forefathers, which had come down through 
 line after line as an inheritance to be sacredly treasured 
 
16 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 and transmitted from father to son. His paternal grand- 
 father, in particular, was a great reciter of these wonderful 
 stories. Not only did he regale his youthful audience with 
 the fascinating accounts of the deeds and the exploits of 
 their own ancestors, but he was familiar with all those tra- 
 ditionary legends that afterward gave the great Sir Walter 
 Scott so much material for his famous “ Tales of a Grand- 
 father.” 
 
 “Asa boy,” says Dr. Livingstone years later, when speak- 
 ing of his grandfather’s favorite practice, “I remember 
 listening with delight, for his memory was stored with a 
 never-ending stock of stories, many of which were wonder- 
 fully like those I have since heard while sitting by the Af- 
 rican evening fires.” 
 
 To this grandfather Livingstone was especially attached. 
 He was a rugged old Scot, with but few of the faults and 
 many of the virtues of his race. He was noted above all 
 traits for his unswerving honesty, thus nobly bearing out the 
 stainless reputation of his family. He was the grandfather 
 alluded to as ‘a small farmer in Ulva.” For many years 
 he quietly labored as a tiller of the soil; but as his fam- 
 ily increased he found the income from his few acres 
 altogether insufficient for even their most pressing needs. 
 This led him to dispose of his farm, and to remove to the 
 Blantyre Cotton Works, where he hoped to obtain employ- 
 ment not only for himself, but also for his sons that were 
 large enough to work. 
 
 The Blantyre Cotton Works were at Blantyre, a small 
 manufacturing town on the river Clyde, nine miles above 
 Glasgow. The worthy old Scot was not long in procuring 
 a position, and that, too, one of trust from the very first. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 17 
 
 So much for the good name borne by his family, the her- 
 ald of which had preceded him. He entered as messen- 
 ger the service of the Messrs. Monteith & Co., proprietors 
 of the factory. A part of his duty was to convey large 
 sums of money to and from Glasgow. Not once did he fail 
 in the trust. Indeed, so unflinching was his integrity, so 
 rare his faithfulness, that he won not only the confidence 
 but the highest esteem of his employers. When too old to 
 longer continue in the discharge of his duties, they showed 
 their appreciation of their trusty servant by retiring him 
 on a pension. 
 
 Soon after removing to Blantyre he had also succeeded, 
 as he had hoped, in getting positions in the factory for his 
 sons as well as for himself—positions which they filled with 
 honor and trust, following the example so nobly set by 
 the father. They remained in the employ of the Messrs. 
 Monteith until the war with France broke out, when they 
 all, with the exception of Dr. Livingstone’s father, entered 
 the army. The latter, having married in the meantime, 
 * now settled down as a grocery merchant, doing business 
 in a small way. 
 
 David’s tribute to his father at this period of his life was 
 that he was “too honest ever to grow rich.” Here we 
 also have a glimpse of the real kindliness of heart that was 
 surely his, since he was never known to turn away a fellow- 
 creature in distress, but, on the other hand, would respond 
 to the appeal, though to his own hurt. It was this constant 
 trust of people, “ whose _necessities were greater than their 
 Sieh: desiro 65 pay.” that added more and more each 
 year to his own financial embarrassment; for, as has been 
 said, he was only doing business on a limited scale. This 
 
 2 
 
 va 
 
18 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 pressure finally drove him to the necessity of putting his 
 children out to work, even at tender ages. 
 
 It was thus that David entered the mills as piecer when 
 only ten years old. It was hard work for so young a child, 
 the long confinement proving more wearisome than any 
 thing else. He had to work steadily from six in the morn- 
 ing until eight at night, with only a short intermission for 
 dinner, © —— 
 
 How many lads thus circumstanced would haye surren- 
 dered themselves unreservedly to the drudgery of their po- 
 sition, hopeless and careless as to any thing for the future 
 save a life of just such unremitting toil as this! But not 
 so David Livingstone. While not despismg his humble 
 surroundings, nor yet rebellious against the hardness of his 
 lot, there was nevertheless born within him from the mo- 
 ment his hands knew daily toil the pure purpose to raise 
 himself step by step to higher and broader levels, and to 
 make of his life in the end that which would be an honor to 
 God, a satisfaction to himself, and a blessing to his fellow- 
 men. 
 
 Thus within the heart of the obscure factory boy, toiling 
 over his spindles in the mills at Blantyre, were planted the 
 first seed of that steadfast and ennobling resolve that gave 
 to the world its greatest Christian missionary and most suc- 
 cessful explorer. 
 
 He was no dreamer, be it understood—no loiterer, who 
 spent “hours by the way,” though that way were but the 
 loom above which he bent, building castles for the future 
 out of the gorgeous fabrics of fancy, or rearing them of 
 such material as speculation gives. It was no dream that 
 had taken such full possession of him, but a pure and stead- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 19 
 
 fast desire. Believing in God with all his heart and soul, 
 as well as in the power and efficacy of prayer, he also be- 
 lieved it possible to bring about the accomplishment he so 
 - ardently desired through the very strength and earnestness 
 of his petitions. God was with him— though invisible, yet 
 supreme—and God would hear his prayers. 
 
 Thus, boy as he was, he threw the whole force of his rug- 
 ged nature into this one belief, and clung to it—never 
 faltering, never doubting that in his own good time, and out 
 of the abundance of his mighty compassion, God would 
 send the fulfillment. Until then he could wait; and better 
 still, he could work, though the work was of the lowliest 
 kind. Ah! show me the soul that has taken unto itself so 
 mighty and so clean a purpose—that upon its most endur- 
 ing foundations and within the firmest fortresses of its de- 
 fenses has built such a hope, such a faith—and I will whis- 
 per of a God that never yet let such a trust go unrequited. 
 “According to thy faith so shall it be.” Thus spoke the 
 Master, and as steadfast as heaven itself is the prom se these 
 words contain. 
 
 One incident of this period of Livingstone’s life is espe- 
 cially noticeable and most commendable, as it shows us 
 more plainly than perhaps any thing else could have done 
 the faithful and sturdy heart that beat underneath the 
 coarse jacket, as well as gives us a strong and forcible iJlus- 
 tration of those filial traits of character that formed so close 
 a part of himself. The first half-crown he ever earned he 
 laid proudly and fondly in his mother’s lap, beseeching her 
 that she would at once expend it in something exclusively 
 for herself, since, he assured her, nothing would give him 
 greater happiness than to see her do this. 
 
20 LIFE OF DAV D LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 What edueation Livingstone had previous to his enter- 
 ing the mills had been acquired at irregular intervals at the 
 village school. This only gave him an intense longing for 
 more knowledge, and with a portion of the small earnings he 
 received at the factory he began attending a night-school, 
 which was kept up in part by the proprietors of the mills. 
 Not content with this, he purchased a Latin grammar: this 
 he managed to study at odd snatches as he walked back 
 and forth in front of his work. 
 
 David had always been a plodding and persevering 
 lad. Indeed, his habit of sticking determinately to a pur- 
 pose was proverbial in the household. His perseverance is 
 described by one of his biographers as of the kind that is 
 “bred in the bone,” and consequently formed an integral 
 part of his organization. When an object of attainment 
 came in view, there was no flagging of the invincible will 
 until victory had crowned his endeavors. So it was with 
 the determined youth who took upon himself the mas- 
 tery of the Latin language in the odd snatches between his 
 work; so, in turn, with the resolute young student whose 
 seanty means did not deter him from the undertaking of a 
 medical course, finished at last only through the most indom- 
 itable effort; so with the man whose steady purpose would 
 acknowledge no defeat, all the while drawing nearer and 
 nearer its realization—the Christianizing and the opening 
 up to commerce of a whole savage continent. This was a 
 work that no one man—nay, nor a thousand men—could 
 hope to accomplish in a life-time, yet he set about it with 
 a resoluteness “bred in the bone,” like that sturdy persever- 
 ance of his, and nurtured in a heart that, first assured of 
 God’s blessing, never felt discomfiture. Even with all his 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 21 
 
 courage and will, he recognized that this was to be the work 
 not of one but of many a life-time; yet with a faith that 
 knew no faltering, and an unswerving reliance upon that 
 higher Power which guided and directed him, he went 
 hopefully on to the accomplishment of the part he felt to be 
 his. And such a part! 
 
 Could the century but give us another David Living- 
 stone, little need would there be for the thousand men, 
 “preachers and prophets in a heathen land;” for,a very host 
 in himself, how the glorious work would speed on to its ful- 
 fillment! O! to think of it—a whole race conquered and 
 engirdled by the chains of Christian brotherhood! two hun- 
 ded ition awareny THOS Uplaraed to catch ‘the glory of 
 Christ’s love! two hundred million once savage tongues 
 repeating o’er and o’er the name of the King who has come, 
 is gone, and is to come again in the infinite power and splen- 
 dor of his majesty! Could the earth afford a grander or a 
 more soul-enkindling picture? God send us the Living- 
 stone; but failing this, send us the men—yes, and the wom- 
 en too—and speed the glorious day when the heathen shall 
 cry unto thee as one man, and when from “the rivers to the 
 ends of the earth” all the nations shall give thee praise! 
 
 As a proof of that remarkable perseverance so fittingly 
 described as “bred in the bone,” David, when nine years 
 old, received from his Sunday-school teacher a copy of the 
 New Testament for repeating the one hundred and nine- 
 teenth Psalm on two successive evenings, with only five er- 
 rors, and these of the most trivial kind. Never was a book 
 more cherished than that one, and never was one more in- 
 dustriously studied. That he found it as “bread fo, his 
 soul” — as “a lamp to his s feet, ZB many incidents of his 
 
 ——— 
 
22 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 after life proved. With him as with Daniel Webster, from 
 the time that as a child at his mother’s knee he had first, 
 learned ‘to lisp verses from the sacred writings,” to the 
 close of his long and useful career, they were his “ daily 
 study and vigilant contemplation.” 
 
 Livingstone was an insatiate reader, devouring almost 
 every book that came in his way. I say “almost every 
 book” advisedly, for there was one exception. He would 
 never read novels, declaring that they were perhaps not so 
 hurtful, but profitless, since they showed him nothing of 
 “death-how.to die, nor of life how to live.” His great 
 fondness was for books of a scientific character; next, his- 
 tories and works of travel. Much of his reading during 
 the years at the factory was done, as his Latin had been 
 studied, between the intervals of his work. As these inter- 
 vals could not at best be more than a moment in length, 
 we can form some idea as to the full extent of his opportu- 
 nities. 
 
 When about sixteen years of age, Livingstone was pro- 
 moted from a piecer to a spinner. The advancement not 
 only raised his wages, but also slightly increased the inter- 
 vals between his work—those golden moments of opportu- 
 nity, the value of which he so well knew. Although mere 
 fractions of time, that would seem useless to the idler and 
 the dreamer, Livingstone regarded them as precious pearls 
 to be slipped swiftly yet carefully and deftly along the 
 string, with good to the slipper at every touch. After all, 
 these intervals were but snatches, for the machinery of the 
 cotton-mills of those days did not have the reliability and 
 the many self-acting properties that the new mills of to-day 
 have. Much that the looms now do for themselves the spin- 
 
aS 
 
 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 23 
 
 ners of that time had to do for the looms. Hence, there 
 was not then any thing like the opportunity there is now 
 for the looking away of eyes or the keeping away of hands. 
 But, in spite of these many obstacles, Livingstone managed 
 to catch sentence after sentence as he passed and repassed 
 in front of the book so ingeniously fixed upon a portion of 
 his spinning-jenny. 
 
 At six o’clock in the morning Livingstone was in his 
 place at the mill; at twelve there was a short intermission 
 for dinner; at eight the great bell clanged, and the day’s 
 work was over. With just time to change his clothes and 
 to eat his supper, by half-past eight he was in his seat at the 
 night-school. Here he remained until ten, then returned 
 home to read and study up to twelve—often to a later hour 
 —when his mother, fearing for his health, would literally 
 snatch the book away from him and run him off to bed. 
 None but a most rugged and hardy constitution could have 
 held out against such wear and tear, and this Livingstone 
 fortunately had. It stood him in good turn now—it up- 
 held him again and again amidst the hardships and suffer- 
 ings of the savage desert. 
 
 In this manner—during the hours of the night at home, 
 and in the intervals of his work at the factory—Livingstone 
 read many of the works of the classics, even Virgil and 
 Horace. Often afterward he used to say he had a better 
 understanding of them at eighteen than he had at forty- 
 eight. 
 
 In his search for knowledge Livingstone did not con- 
 fine himself to the reading of books: no one ever should. 
 In time Nature became his teacher: her vast store-houses 
 wereshis elass-rooms; her manifold works were his classics. 
 
24 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 From these he learned, as he never could have learned from 
 books or men, lessons sweet and fresh and pure, bearing the 
 imprint of the Great Teacher’s own master-mind. From 
 the golden heart of the lily, in the glowing color of the 
 wild-rose, in the imperial bending of the blades of the tal} 
 grasses, in the form and motion of the clouds, in the 
 rhythmic flow of the brook or river, in the burst of melody 
 from the bird’s throat, in the distillation of the dew-drop, 
 there spoke to him voices as with countless tongues; and 
 each proclaimed eloquently the lesson it had been sent to 
 teach. Who would not learn of such instructors? Who 
 would not stop to catch the music of a language as old as 
 the stars and as clear and beautiful as the blue vault that 
 shuts them from our view in the day-dawn? Hear this 
 great teacher, you who would have clean hands, and fresh 
 faces, and laughing voices, and healthy minds, and pure 
 hearts: “I am Nature. Come and learn of me, and 
 through me of my God.” 
 
 ’ In the company of his two brothers, John and Charles— 
 at such times as he could spare from his other studies and 
 researches—Livingstone used to go roaming over the hills 
 in search of plant specimens. Then he took to studying 
 the fishes, their haunts and their habits; next, the birds and 
 the various reptiles. Not satisfied with this, he went farther 
 still, and began digging into the earth in search of certain 
 fossil remains he had heard were numerous in that part of 
 the country. In their rambles one day the brothers came 
 to a quarry that had been worked for awhile and then 
 abandoned. With exclamations of delight, David began 
 examining the many curious specimens of fossil shells 
 strewed about—specimens which the workmen had fgew 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 25 
 
 time to time excavated from the yielding walls of lime- 
 stone. Soon he picked up a large fragment of the lime- 
 stone that had been detached some time, and was of the 
 hardness of rock. Firmly imbedded in the center was a 
 large and beautiful shell, perfect in outline. It struck Da- 
 vid’s attention at once. “ How did this shell come into the 
 rock?” he asked of the old quarryman who was at that 
 moment looking in upon them. “ Why,” returned the man, 
 “ when God made the rock he put the shell in it, of course.” 
 Yes, “of course.” It all sownded plausible enough, but 
 would it bear the test of careful inquiry? The quarryman, 
 at least, had never given the matter a thought before. To 
 him a rock was a rock, and a shell a shell, and one was as 
 likely to be in a place as the other. It never occurred to 
 him that the proper home of the shell was in the sea, and 
 not here imbedded in this limestone cliff; but it did occur 
 to Livingstone, and with this thought many more came 
 crowding into his mind. Best of all, he did not let it end 
 with his thoughts. Plausible as had been the old man’s 
 theory, Livingstone knew it would not do. Something with- 
 in him told him that. But why wouldn’t it do? This is 
 what he resolved to discover; and he did discover it, 
 
 Thus the finding of the fossil shell in the depths of the 
 old quarry led Livingstone to the study of geology—a study 
 that stood him well years after in the heart of wonderful 
 Africa, and helped him on in the many valuable discover- 
 ies and researches which without such aid he would doubt- 
 less never have made. 
 
 An incident that occurred during this pericd of ram- 
 bling over the Scottish hills will forcibly illustrate a strik- 
 ey pont in Livingstone’s character. It was a rigid old 
 
26 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Seotch custom of his father’s to lock the door at night-fall, 
 by which time every child, large and small, was expected 
 to be within the house. Each one knew this rule only too 
 well, and none as yet had dared to infringe it. One after- 
 noon David had been out on a ramble alone. Absorbed in 
 his quest for some particular plant-specimen, he did not 
 notice the flight of time: thus at the going down of the sun 
 he was some distance from his father’s house. With alarm 
 he found that he could hardly hope to reach home, even 
 with his best efforts, before the closing of the door. Never- 
 theless, hoping against hope, he set off at his most rapid 
 pace. It was as he had feared. On arriving at home he 
 found the door fast barred. He did not call or make a 
 noise or outery of any kind. Having knowledge of his 
 father’s firm adherence to this rule of closing the door, he 
 prepared himself to make the best of the present occasion. 
 Drawing a piece of bread from his pocket, he sat upon the 
 steps, ready to be content with that instead of the meal he 
 had expected, as well as to spend the night there in uncom- 
 plaining submission. But it was not so to be. The ever- 
 watchful mother soon found him, opened the door for him, 
 bade him enter, and cried over him, as such mothers will 
 do, especially when they choose to look upon the object ot 
 their tears as badly treated. Ever after that, even when 
 he had grown to man’s estate, David Livingstone was in time 
 for the closing of the door. 
 
EHAPrER It. 
 
 HOME LIFE—THE TENDER REGARD SHOWN HIS SISTERS—HIS 
 KEEN SENSE OF THE HUMOROUS—A LAUGHABLE EPISODE—THE 
 SPIRITUAL CHANGE THAT CAME TO HIM—HE ENTERS THE UNI- 
 VERSITY AS A MEDICAL STUDENT—HIS DETERMINATION TO BE- 
 COME A MISSIONARY. 
 
 N spite of the generally austere rule of the father, it 
 would have been impossible to find a happier or more 
 contented family than that of the Livingstones. Consider- 
 ation and kindliness for others ruled their every impulse; 
 love spoke in their every act. Contention and strife, such 
 as mar the peace and pleasantness of the fairest homes, came 
 not near their abode. Harsh words and bitter speeches, fret- 
 fulness and peevish complainings, were unknown there. 
 Though he was unyielding in the enforcement of those 
 principles which he deemed just and beneficial to the grow- 
 ing body and mind, Neil Livingstone, the father, was not 
 the man to look frowningly upon the sports and innocent 
 amusements of childhood. Harmless recreations, cheery 
 pastimes, even the more noisy games, were not prohibited. 
 Often around the broad fireplace in the evenings the father 
 himself took part in these plays. But the central figure of 
 all this happy sport—the one governing spirit, up to whom 
 all the others came in time to look, and to depend upon for 
 the choicest bits of the evening’s enjoyment—was David. 
 He was never too tired, never too much occupied with his 
 own pursuits and pleasures to refuse them the share he 
 could contribute to their happiness. 
 
 It is no wonder, then. that he was the favorite of that 
 (27) 
 
28 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 happy home, even where all the other brothers and sisters 
 were so well beloved. But he was their idol, the one upon 
 whom the combined treasures of their deepest affection 
 were unstintingly poured. Without David no home even- 
 ing would have seemed like itself, no enjoyment complete. 
 To his sisters he was the gentlest and most courteous of 
 brothers. Evening after evening they would watch for his 
 coming, and greet his approach with the happiest of faces. 
 It used to be a custom of his on Saturday evenings—the 
 only evenings of the week-days when he was free from his 
 school duties—to tell them of such things as he thought 
 would not only amuse but instruct them. In this manner 
 he had a school of his own at home—a school in which the 
 lessons taught carried with them something more than the 
 knowledge one is apt to glean from books alone. In the 
 after years his sisters often spoke of the feelings of rare de- 
 light with which they looked forward to these Saturday 
 evenings at home. Kind were the thoughts he gave to oth- 
 ers, and in return kind their thoughts to him. 
 The heart is a garden—our thoughts the flowers 
 That spring into fruitful life: 
 
 Have a care that in sowing there fall no seed 
 From the weed of cruel strife. 
 
 O loving words are not hard to say, 
 If the heart be loving too! 
 
 And the kinder the thoughts you give to others 
 The kinder their thoughts to you. 
 
 As solid and matter-of-fact as was Dr. Livingstone’s char- 
 acter in most respects, he had a keen sense of humor and a 
 faculty for the ready enjoyment of many of the lighter 
 things of life. An amusing situation, a ludicrous blending 
 of the seemly and unseemly, struck him irresistibly. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 29 
 
 While out fishing with his brother Charles one day, he 
 caught a large salmon that weighed several pounds. It 
 seems that they had not gone prepared for fishing; and 
 having no bag or receptacle of any kind in which to place 
 the fish, they were for some time at a loss as to what they 
 should do with it. Finally a happy thought struck David. 
 
 “T tell you what, Charles,” he said, with a merry twinkle 
 of the eye: “we shall have to make a fish-bag of one leg of 
 your trousers. There is plenty of room for both the leg 
 and the salmon,” with a suggestive glance in the direction 
 of a somewhat baggy and spacious half of the boy’s panta- 
 loons. 
 
 They proceeded to make a fish-bag of Charles’s trousers—— 
 leg. Charles himself offered no remonstrance, but seemed 
 greatly to enjoy the novel operation. The fish was at once 
 hoisted and dropped into place, neither the trousers nor the 
 leg that inhabited that portion of them offering any resist- 
 ance, since there was indeed, as Livingstone had declared, 
 plenty of room for both, with a surplus besides. A leather 
 string was next tied around the garment at the boy’s ankle, 
 so as to prevent the fish from slipping out. In this manner 
 they went through the village, where the unnatural and 
 apparently swollen condition of Charles’s leg attracted con- 
 siderable attention, as well as called forth a great deal of 
 commiseration, from the feminine portion of the town espe- 
 cially. Many good women ran after them, their faces filled 
 with pity, and all erying, “ Poor lad! poor lad! what could 
 have happened to him?” Each had a remedy of her own 
 to suggest, warranted to bring the swelling down in the least 
 number of days, and each was clamorous that he should pay 
 attention to her, and promise to give her remedy the first 
 trial. It was with difficulty that they got through the vil- 
 
30 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 lage. The remembrance of this adventure furnished the 
 brothers with amusement for months afterward. 
 
 If David Livingstone was the idol of his sisters, he was the 
 hero of his brothers as well. They looked up to him in every 
 thing, relied steadfastly upon his opinions, and were never 
 happier than when following him on his rambles. He was 
 never cross nor harsh to them, nor did he ever seek to im- 
 press them with a sense of his own superior attainments and 
 abilities, but was always gentle, patient, and considerate. If 
 they asked a foolish question, he took time to consider the 
 best answer to give them, without appearing to see how 
 very foolish the question was. He never once willingly hurt 
 their feelings. At their most ludicrous blunders, if made in 
 good faith, he would refrain from Jaughing; and in every 
 way he encouraged them to talk of themselves, and to ex- 
 press such ideas and opinions as they might have. Between 
 the brothers there was always the utmost good comradeship. 
 
 When he was nineteen years of age, a great spiritual 
 change came over David Livingstone. He had always been 
 an earnest and a believing Jad. From his infancy he had 
 been taught to revere the name of God. He would no more 
 have forgotten to say his prayers morning and evening than 
 he would have neglected to bathe his face or to take his* 
 place at meals. From his mother he had imbibed the most 
 sacred regard for holy things, from his father an unswerving 
 fidelity to the higher principles of integrity and truth. He 
 read his Bible daily; he went to a house of worship regu- 
 larly each Sabbath; he made every effort to live up to God’s 
 commandments. But with all this there had been some- 
 thing lacking—an experience and a knowledge that far sur- 
 passed any thing of which he had as yet formed an idea. 
 What was it? The living closer to God each day that 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 31 
 
 passed ; the constant realization of his presence in the heart; 
 the ready doing of his will—not through fear, nor yet from 
 a sense of duty, but through love—which is his children’s 
 certain assurance of their full acceptance with him. In 
 time all this came to David Livingstone; and as the light 
 grew stronger and more beautiful day by day, so did those 
 desires and aspirations that had first come to the little 
 “piecer” boy, bending over his tasks at the mill, now be- 
 gin to shape themselves into firmer and clearer mold. Then 
 he had merely longed to reach some higher and nobler 
 plane of action. Nothing definite had fixed itself within 
 his mind. Just what he was to be had occupied no positive 
 place in his thoughts, only as it was held by the pure pur- 
 pose to make of his life something ennobling to himself and 
 of benefit to his fellow-men. But he saw it all more plainly 
 now. The light had come, and with it the end of all doubt 
 and perplexity, and the beginning of a faith and Jove that 
 pointed out the way as clearly as though the noonday sun 
 shone upon it. What could be more ennobling to himself, or 
 bring greater blessings to mankind, than the earnest and 
 thoroughly consecrated life of a missionary? Nothing; nor 
 could there be “a grander place for man to die than where 
 he died for man.” In such hope and in such desire God 
 would surely uphold him. 
 
 He was now earning good wages at the factory, or what 
 were considered good wages at that time. His resolution in 
 regard to his future career thus formed, Livingstone deter- 
 mined to deyote a part of the proceeds of his labor to the 
 taking of a medical course at the university in Glasgow. 
 He well knew the benefit that such knowledge would be to 
 him and to others in the life he had mapped out. To be 
 able to administer to the ills of body as well as of mind 
 
32 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 was to carry to poor stricken humanity a dual blessing. 
 Thus he worked during the summer, saving every pepny 
 that he could from his earnings in order to take the medical 
 course during the winter. Often it seemed to the brave 
 toiler that, with all his economy and self-denial, he must 
 abandon his desires. The fees were not only heavy in com- 
 parison to his light purse, but there were other expenses upon 
 which he had not calculated. But in the face of all obsta- 
 cles he determinately pushed ahead, asking help from no 
 one, and receiving none, save once from a brother, who, 
 knowing of his straits, insisted on loaning him a small 
 amount. 
 That this life of hardy toil and persistent application was 
 neither irksome nor distasteful to him, his own words show: 
 _——‘Looking back now at that life of toil, I cannot but feel 
 thankful that it formed such a material part of my early 
 education; and were it possible I should like to begin life 
 over again in the same lowly style, and to pass through the 
 same lowly training.” Brave and telling words these to 
 come from a man who had known every up and down of 
 life, from the lowest to the highest. How keen the sting of 
 ‘heir reproach should be to those useless and effortless ex- 
 ‘stences that are not only a burden to themselves but a mill- 
 stone about the necks of others! ; 
 In order to attend the lectures at the university, Living- 
 stone had, through the first course, to walk to Glasgow and 
 ——~pback each day, a total of eighteen miles. Though it was 
 wintery weather, and often of the severest kind, and though 
 his shoes were not always of the best, nor his attire of the 
 warmest, no word of complaint ever passed his lips. He 
 was only too glad of the opportunity to take his place in 
 the class-room. What were bodily pains and discomforts, 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 33 
 
 even the pangs of hunger and cold, in comparison to this 
 precious privilege? It was noticeable that, no matter what 
 might go amiss with him—whether on the road or at the uni- 
 versity—no shadow of his own troubles or perplexities did he 
 ever allow to fall upon his happy family circle. Asin the old 
 days at the mill, his home-coming was now joyously hailed. 
 
 At length the sublime patience, the indomitable courage, 
 the resolute will of Livingstone had their reward: the course 
 was finished, and the long-desired diploma his. Another 
 point of his many-sided and thoroughly strong and fearless 
 nature came to light with the taking of thisdiploma. While 
 undergoing an examination, the result of which was to prove 
 his fitness to receive this badge of a work faithfully done, 
 Livingstone dared to differ in opinion with the examining 
 board in regard to a certain subject that was under discus- 
 sion. This finally led to quite an extended argument, in 
 which Livingstone acquitted himself triumphantly. The 
 board was angry and resentful, of course; but its members 
 could nt deny him his diploma, as they doubtless would 
 have liked to do. In afterward speaking of this encoun- 
 ter to a friend, Livingstone somewhat dryly remarked: 
 “Perhaps it would have been the wiser plan, after all, not 
 to have had any opinions of my own.” <A “ perhaps” it 
 merely was with Livingstone, since those who knew him 
 well knew that he was not the one to allow his convictions 
 and opinions to be swayed and controlled by those of other 
 people. When an idea came to him, or a new thought 
 presented itself. he was always fearless in giving expression 
 to it. Never could his opinions and beliefs be purchased at 
 any price. He was ever himself—bold, steadfast, and un- 
 flinching in a stand he had once taken from a conviction of 
 right. 
 
 3 
 
34 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Now that his medical course was completed, Livingstone 
 felt that the time had come to put into active effort the pur- 
 pose he had all along kept resulutely before him. His first 
 thought was of the mission-fields in China. A few brave 
 spirits were already there, and the work had begun. How- 
 ever, before he could carry his designs into execution the 
 outbreak of the Opium War with China took place, and he 
 
 ___-was-compelled to abandon all hope in that direction, at 
 least for awhile. 
 
 Africa next presented itself. It is true that up to this 
 time it had been a country almost unknown; but so much 
 the better, thought Livingstone; so much greater the need 
 of a fearless, determined spirit to go and find out what was 
 to be found, and to do his share of what was to be done. 
 Though the London Missionary Society—the one great soci- 
 ety of its kind at that day—had as yet contributed but little 
 toward the sending of missionaries to the Dark Continent, 
 one was there the fame of whose wonderful discoveries and 
 labors was beginning to reach the ears of the Christian world. 
 This was the Rev. Robert Moffat, who many years before 
 had fearlessly set sail for that savage and hostile land. 
 
 Livingstone now offered himself to the London Mission- 
 ary Society for work in Africa. His application was at once 
 accepted; yet, that he might be the better prepared for 
 what was before him, he was not at once assigned to a field, 
 
 but instead sent to a missionary training establishment at 
 Chipping Ongar, in Essex, which was presided over by the 
 Rey. Mr. Cecil. Here he was subjected to all kinds of hard 
 labor, such as grinding corn, sawing boards, felling trees, 
 chopping wood, ditching, gardening—in fact, he was re- 
 quired to do any and every thing that was calculated to 
 fit him for the rough life before him, Here he also prac- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 393) 
 
 ticed feats of walking, usually testing his powers of endurance 
 to the utmost. Once he walked to and from London in one 
 day, a distance of fifty miles in all. He was completely ex- 
 hausted, of course—especially as he had taken little, if any, 
 food on the way; but who can doubt that it prepared him 
 just that much more for the terrible marches endured with 
 such courage and fortitude under the blistering sun and 
 through the scorching sands of Africa? 
 
ON THE BOSOM OF THE MYSTIC NILE, 
 
Saat ter TE: 
 
 A QUESTION THAT VEXED TIE WORLD—THE SOURCES OF THE 
 NILE—THE BRUCE, SPEKE, AND BAKER EX PEDITIONS—ENGLAND 
 TRIUMPHANT—THE SPIRIT THAT MOVED LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Fan four thousand years the same question had vexed 
 and perplexed the whole civilized world: “ Where is the 
 source of the Nile?” Age after age men had stood upon its 
 banks and watched its placid current, or again from afar the 
 swollen and angry cataract of its annual overflow—still the 
 same baffling inquiry, “ Whence doth it come?” Persians, 
 Greeks, Egyptians, even the Hindoo from the sacred shades 
 of his temples beside the Ganges, had attempted to solve the 
 mystery, and each in turn had failed. The noble facades 
 of the palaces, the imperial shafts of the obelisks, the costly 
 domes of the temples looking down in stately grandeur upon 
 the Nile, had alike crumbled and fallen into dust; cities 
 had arisen, flourished, and were swept away; generation 
 had succeeded generation—still onward rolled the mighty 
 river, as though it would go on forever. But whence did 
 it come? What were the causes governing the mystery of 
 its annual overflow? As regularly as he looked for the 
 coming of the sun in the morning did the old Egyptian, at 
 the right season, watch for the rising of the Nile; and as 
 little as he knew about the laws governing the one, still Jess 
 did he know of the causes controlling the other. The mys- 
 tery had from year to year puzzled the great and wise Menes 
 
 himself. In order to solve it, if possible, he finally sent an 
 (37) 
 
88 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 army of men into the almost impenetrable wilderness. But 
 few of them ever came back, those who did come haying no 
 light to give. Next Cambyses, the sturdy and dauntless 
 warrior, who had failed in little else, undertook the search 
 with a thousand men. Not one of these ever returned to 
 bear witness of the fate of the expedition. yen Alexan- 
 der the Great, in the midst of his many conquests, stopped 
 to give more than a thought to the possibility of making 
 this one, which after all might in many respects prove the 
 greatest of his achievements. Unlike Menes and Cambyses, 
 he went himself with his army. The renown was too tempt- 
 ing to be shared by his men alone. But he bent his course 
 in an eastward direction, and went into India: there he came 
 upon the Indus pouring from its mountain sources, and he 
 clapped his hands and shouted aloud, for he believed that he 
 had found the head-waters of the magic river. But afterward 
 he discovered his mistake, and we may well imagine how 
 very crest-fallen he must have felt. Years later the mighty 
 Julius Cesar was heard to remark “ that there might, after 
 all, be more glory in the discovery of the source of the Nile 
 than in the winning of many battles.’ He too made prep- 
 aration to go in search of the baffling sources of the myste- 
 rious river; but luckily for him, as well as for his splendid 
 soldiers, the enterprise was abandoned. 
 
 Thus the mystery, and the doubt, and the perplexity, and 
 the search went on; and from nation to nation, from gener- 
 ation to generation, from father to son, was the same ques- 
 tion handed down: “ Whence cometh it?” 
 
 On the fourth day of November, 1770, James Bruce, a 
 Scotchman, stood in the middle of a small spring in the 
 mountain fastnesses of Central Africa, and, with much ex- 
 citement and great hilarity cf spirits, drank to the health of 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 39 
 
 the King (George III.) from a cup of cocoa-nut shell. These 
 noisy demonstrations arose from the fact that Bruce believed 
 he had found the true source of the Nile, and had at last 
 settled the vexed question of centuries. He was mistaken, 
 in the main, as he himself discovered. Still there was honor 
 in the find, since what he had come upon, though not really 
 the head-waters of the Nile proper, was the source of its most 
 important tributary, the Blue Nile. 
 
 In olden times the Egyptian, along with the problem that 
 still remained unsolved in his mind, had a belief that the 
 source of so wonderful a river could lie in no other place 
 than in the great basin of some mighty lake. But where 
 was this lake? In what portion of the yet undiscovered 
 country did it lie? A whisper, that it had been scen and 
 bathed in by a party of hunters, once came floating up the 
 river even as high as the old city of Alexandria, where the 
 mystic waters joined those of the blue Mediterranean; yet 
 just where the whisper first started, or by whom it had been 
 borne along, no one seemed to know. Centuries afterward 
 (in the year 1858), an Inglish explorer, Captain Speke, 
 returned to his country from a series of extraordinary ad- 
 ventures and discoveries in the African wildernesses, de- 
 elaring that the mystery of the Nile source was a mystery 
 no longer, for he had found it in a lake to which he had 
 given the name “ Victoria Nyanza” in honor of his Queen. 
 “Tf that be true, then, Speke,” said the President of the 
 Royal Geographical Society, to whom he had made his dis- 
 covery known, “we must send you back for further investi- 
 gation, and to establish the claim.” And send him back 
 they did, but not alone. This time he was accompanied by 
 one Captain Grant, who was also an Enelishman. After 
 many adventures and great perils, these brave explorers 
 
40 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 finally returned, each steadfastly declaring that in the broad 
 and magnificent basin of the Victoria Nyanza the Nile did 
 indeed have its source. How all England rejoiced! At 
 last the mystery of ages had been cleared up, and by one of 
 her sons! 
 
 But was the problem fully solved? Had Speke indeed 
 found the real source of the Nile? No, not quite. While 
 at Lake Victoria Nyanza, Speke and Grant had heard from 
 the natives of another lake which, while not near so large, 
 was equally as interesting and beautiful. They had at once 
 set out for the point indicated, but failing to procure a proper 
 guide, and many things pressing their speedy return to En- 
 gland, they gave up the search, believing that they had been 
 misinformed. However, before leaving the country they 
 confided what knowledge they had gained in regard to the 
 lake to one of their countrymen, Mr. Samuel Baker—after- 
 ward the great Sir Samuel Baker—who was at that time 
 with his wife in the heart of Africa. 
 
 Baker renewed the search for the lake, his wife bravely 
 sharing in every hardship and danger. At last, one morn- 
 ing, when he was least expecting it, Baker came upon the 
 lake. He found it a wonderful and beautiful body of water, 
 as the natives had declared it to be, but he found it some- 
 thing better still—the other and last remaining source of 
 the Nile. Baker named the new-found lake “Albert,” in 
 honor of the good and gentle Prince Consort. 
 
 And so it was all cleared up at last, and there was no 
 cause for further mystery. The magic river, as might have 
 been supposed from its volume and from the nature of its 
 annual rise and overflow, had more than one source—it had 
 two; really three, looked at in one light. And all of these 
 sources had been discovered by Englishmen. No wonder 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 41 
 
 the old mother-country felt proud and jubilant! In the 
 midst of the spring whence the Blue Nile issues at Geesh, 
 Bruce had stood drinking King George’s health—the first 
 white man that ever gazed upon its surface; eighty-eight 
 years later, Captain Speke had found the waters of the 
 White Nile, or Nile proper, flowing from the basin of the 
 Victoria Nyanza; and now Baker—the last, but by no 
 means least, of the great trio—had come upon the remain- 
 ing source of the magic river in the bosom of the Albert 
 Nyanza. 
 
 Even before Speke had found the first source of the White 
 Nile, the call to go to this same wonderful country had come 
 to David Livingstone. It may be that amidst all his noble 
 resolutions and self-sacrificing purposes he was not unmind- 
 ful of the many allurements and attractions of this strange, 
 wild land. Perhaps it might be his lot, too, to make won- 
 derfal discoveries, and to come upon queer people, and to 
 see strange sights, the description of which would prove of 
 interest and be the source of great instruction to his coun- 
 trymen. Perhaps, also, it might be given him to settle cer: 
 tain vexed questions in regard to the geography of the 
 “Dark Continent,” and to clear up many perplexities con- 
 cerning its climate, productions, ete. While admitting that 
 such hopes and such aspirations were doubtless his, we, on ines 
 the other hand, feel assured that something nobler and 
 higher still led David Livingstone into the African jungles. 
 His was to be a mission to the ignorant, the unhappy, and 
 the dying. Though he did go to see and to learn, in order 
 to give to the scientific world much useful information of 
 which it stood in need, yet he was to be himself a teacher— 
 the bearer of “glad tidings.” The many phases of this wild 
 and picturesque coimtry-he was to open up to the curious 
 
42 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 eyes of the outside world, yet to the sight of its own savage 
 inhabitants he was to lay bare something grander and more 
 beautiful still—the glorious truths of that Book of all books, 
 the Bible. More, he was to tell them of that Saviour who 
 had died for them, and through whom they were to have 
 an everlasting inheritance in their Father's house of many 
 mansions. 
 
 O that there could be found more with Livingstone’s zeal, 
 and Livingstone’s faith, and Livingstone’s vigor! O that 
 others of those who, merely through curiosity, or the love 
 of adventure or of the world’s praise, are led into the heart 
 of that savage country, could but go there, carrying with 
 them even a small portion of that spirit which prompted 
 Livingstone to his other and higher mission! 
 
CEtArl ER’ IV. 
 
 LIVINGSTONE’S ARRIVAL AT CAPE TOWN—THE POPULAR THEORY 
 CONCERNING AFRICA—THE TRIP ACROSS THE COUNTRY TO KURU- 
 MAN—HE HEARS OF A WONDERFUL LAKE—A JOURNEY FAR- 
 THER INTO THE INTERIOR—HIS RECEPTION BY THE BECHUANAS 
 —THE FIRST SOWING OF THE GOOD SEED—MEETS WITH BUBI--A 
 SHOCKING OCCURRENCE—POOR SEKOMI’S TROUBLESOME HEART 
 —THE VISIT TO THE BAKAA—HIS FIRST SERMON—DISCOVERS AN 
 IRON MANUFACTURING PEOPLE—AN AMUSING PREDICAMENT— 
 THE RETURN TO KURUMAN. 
 
 FTER an uneventful voyage of three months’ dura- 
 tion, Livingstone landed at Cape Town, in Southern 
 Africa. This was in March, 1840, | when _he was twenty" 
 seven years old. Previous to his departure for Africa 
 but little was known of the country. Neither Speke nor 
 Grant nor Baker had penetrated it. In spite of the infor- 
 mation which Bruce, Mungo Park, and others had given of 
 their travels, the whole country still remained to the greater 
 portion of the outside world a dark and abandoned coruer 
 ‘of the earth, a continent of heathenism in which they had 
 no part or parcel. All sorts of terrible theories were held 
 concerning it. There were ghouls and-dwarfs, giants and 
 
 genii, and every imaginable kind of horrible monster, that 
 
 ~ were constantly prowling about and preying upon the more 
 
 peaceful portion of the inhabitants. The whole face of the 
 
 country was regarded as an arid and almost barren waste, 
 
 where human life could hardly exist, and then only through 
 
 the most miraculous interventions and by the most desper- 
 (43) 
 
44 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 ‘ 
 
 ate shifts. Deadly serpents crawled on every side, wild 
 beasts destroyed hundreds of poor unfortunates, while the 
 rays of the sun scorched and blistered every thing that they 
 touched. Even the more intelligent and better read be- 
 lieved to some extent in these wild stories. One rather am- 
 bitious Cambridge student had recently gone so far as to 
 write a prize poem in which he made the Sahara the scene of 
 the battle of Armageddon. And the people had actually 
 applauded him for it! No wonder the public mind was so 
 fanciful and unsettled on the subject, since the very ge- 
 ographies themselves were silent, the whole country lying 
 on their maps a perfect blank, with the exception of the 
 Sahara. 
 
 It is no wonder, then, that many of young Livingstone’s 
 friends dreaded to see him depart for this savage country. 
 It would be little less than a miracle if he ever came back 
 alive—thus they thought and declared. It was especially 
 trying to his mother; still, noble woman that she was, she 
 would have been the last one to deter him from his purpose. 
 The brave missionary himself had no misgivings. God was 
 with him, and thus protected he would be as safe in the 
 heart of that savage country as in his own peaceful home. 
 fis implicit trust in the Almighty arm was one of the 
 \foundation-stones of David Livingstone’s character. 
 ~ Remaining at Cape Town but a short while, Livingstone 
 went by ship to Algoa Bay, whence he set out across the 
 country for Kuruman, the mission-station of Mr. Moffat. 
 On this his first African journey occurred an incident that 
 showed the stuff of which our future traveler was made. As 
 he was crossing the Orange River, his team of oxen became 
 unruly and ran the wagon aground in one of the shallow 
 places. To add further to the trouble, the brutes themselves 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 45 
 
 got more and more out of order; or, as Livingstone himself 
 described it, “some of them with their heads where their 
 tails ought to have been, and others again with their tails 
 stuck through the yokes where their necks ought to have 
 been.” Every moment it appeared as if they would over- 
 turn the wagon into the river. However, in a little while 
 Livingstone, with a few dexterous movements, succeeded in 
 getting the oxen into place again, and the wagon up the bank 
 and out of danger. 
 
 ‘Notwithstanding the many drawbacks, they found travel- 
 ing very pleasant, in the main. To Livingstone, especially, 
 it was a novel and varied experience. Te liked it, he said, 
 because there was “so much freedom in the African man- 
 ners.” At night they pitched their tents wherever it might 
 please them; made their fire, swung the kettle over it, and 
 then went out in search of game for their supper. 
 
 The scenery along the route was exceedingly fine. Beau- 
 tiful trees bent their luxuriant growths above them; hum- 
 ming-birds and tiny insects of every description, with flashing 
 wings, flew in and out among the mimosas and the low-grow- 
 ing acacias; the stately palms dipped their long, graceful 
 fronds in lovely undulations as the breezes swept over them; 
 the wild flowers were numerous and of the most brilliant 
 colors, while the dense jungle-grass, fresh and cool and in- 
 viting, stretched away on every side. It is true that the 
 sun was often unbearably hot overhead, that every now and 
 then a hissing serpent presented itself in their path, and 
 more than one wild beast threatened them with its terrible 
 roar: still these were considered but slight discomforts in 
 the face of so much that was pleasing. aoe 
 
 The distance across the country to Kuruman was one 
 thousand miles. The fatigue of such a journey by ox-team 
 
46 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 was necessarily great; but not once did Livingstone really 
 tire. There was too much to keep his interest alive and to 
 constantly put a spur upon his energies, even if they had 
 flagged. 
 
 On this journey he at first endeavored to master the lan- 
 guage of the natives. Each of the tribes, he well knew, had 
 a peculiar dialect of its own, but the majority of them were 
 similar in most features. He knew the difficulties that 
 would impede his way until he had learned to address the 
 people in their own familiar speech. In his efforts in this 
 direction he was much assisted by one of the guides, a native 
 of Bechuana, who had often been to the mission-station at 
 Kuruman and had, besides, spent much time at Cape Town. 
 
 Before starting upon this journey across the country, 
 Livingstone had heard many wonderful stories or a large 
 and beautiful clear-water lake in the country of the Bako- 
 ba, which every one seemed desirous to see. ‘The vegetation 
 along its margin and the majestic sweep of the hills that 
 shut it in on every side were described as something well 
 worth a journey of hundreds of miles to see, to say nothing 
 of the Jake itself. Livingstone’s curiosity was aroused, his 
 scientific ardor enkindled anew, and he determined to make 
 a visit to this wonderful lake just as soon as he could. 
 Though he had come on one great and pressing mission, 
 still there was another, he thought, to which he might oc- 
 casionally give his attention without in any way hindering 
 the advancement of the more important one. With some- 
 thing of this in his mind, even from the moment of his quit- 
 ting Cape Town, he had busied himself as he went along 
 making a collection of plants. Into these botanical re- 
 searches he entered with much of his old love and eager- 
 ness, and soon had many rare and wonderful specimens, 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 47 
 
 which he afterward forwarded to the Royal Geographical 
 Society at London. 
 
 Livingstone arrived at Kuruman on the 31st day of July, 
 1841. He remained there several months, gleaning all the 
 information he could from Mr. Moffat and his fellow-labor- 
 ers in regard to the country he was to penetrate still farther, 
 and of the people among whom he was going to labor. He 
 also endeavored to familiarize himself with the workings of 
 the mission-station, and to gain as much knowledge as was 
 possible of the language of the Bechuana tribes, among 
 whom it was likely his first work would lie. It was also at 
 Kuruman that Livingstone first met the lovely woman who 
 was to bring so much gladness into his life, and to make for 
 him happy places of even the desert wastes. This was Mary, 
 eldest daughter of the Rev. Mr. Moffat, whom he married 
 in 1844. 
 
 On his sailing from England, Livingstone’s directions from 
 the Missionary Society had been to proceed to Kuruman, 
 and there await further instructions. However, after re- 
 maining some time and no advices coming, he determined 
 to make a journey of exploration farther into the interior in 
 order to glean what information he could from his own ob- 
 servations. On this journey he was accompanied by a 
 brother missionary and two native teachers. Thus, while 
 studying the country and its different phases, the customs 
 and peculiarities of its people, he did not neglect that higher 
 and nobler mission upon which he had come. As he went 
 along, seeing and hearing, he would preach and teach, and 
 strive by every means in his power to bring to a few dark- 
 ened minds a knowledge of that precious Saviour of whom 
 
 he had come so far to tell them. 
 
 He went first among one of the Bechuana tribes, north of 
 
45 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 Kuruman. Here he found the people in a terrible condi: 
 tion of fear and suflering. On one side they were harassed 
 by the Dutch slave-traders—or the Boers, as they were 
 more commonly known, and of whom we shall hear more 
 after awhile—aud on the other by a dreaded native enemy, 
 Mosilikatze by name, who had encamped upon their borders, 
 every moment threatening to march in and destroy them. 
 The Bechuanas were not disposed to give Livingstone and 
 his companions a friendly welcome, for the Boers and oth- 
 ers of their class had circulated all kinds of absurd stories 
 in regard to the missionary and his intentions. They had 
 tried to make these benighted people believe that Living- 
 stone was a great conqueror, who had come to put every 
 tribe into subjection to his rule. All this the Boers told 
 heeause they hated Livingstone, knowing that his noble 
 work would more plainly show up the wickedness of their 
 traffic in slaves. Should he succeed in enlightening the 
 poor ignorant creatures whom the Boers used as tools to 
 make war upon their own race—so as to capture in these 
 battles the slaves whom the wicked Dutch traders afterward 
 took to the coast to sell to the captains of vessels touching 
 there—they well-kuew it would put an end to their shame- 
 less but exceedingly profitable business. 
 
 Regardless of all the Boers had told concerning him, Liy- 
 ingstone soon convinced the deluded natives that his errand 
 to them was one of peace and good-will alone. It did not 
 take him long to do this, either, as has been intimated; for 
 his kindly manner, his simple and fearless methods—above 
 all, his honest dealings—won directly upon the confidence 
 of chiefs and people. 
 
 During this journey some good seed were sown, though 
 no direct result, as he could at that time see, came of his 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 49 
 
 preaching and teaching. Still, for the little gained, Liv- 
 ingstone took heart and thanked God. He believed from 
 the first that it was to be a work of time—one, too, requir- 
 ing the utmost patience. It would take years for the light 
 to penetrate, even with a feeble ray, the thick darkness in 
 which these people had so long dwelt. But eventually it 
 would come; the flickering beam would gradually grow into 
 the broad and steady klaze. Until that time, he could only 
 wait and work and pray, believing that God, in his own 
 good season, would send the reward. 
 
 On the 10th of February, 1842, Livingstone left Kuru- 
 man for a second journey into the interior of the Bechuana 
 country. The first person that specially engaged his inter- 
 est on this visit was Bubi, chief of a tribe of Bakwains, a 
 branch of the Beclhuanas. Livingstone left a native teacher 
 with Bubi, hoping and praying that amidst the great gloom 
 one steady light would arise and shine. If he could but 
 lead Bubi out of the darkness, then might others of the 
 people follow. 
 
 Bubi was a good chief, and the only thing he lacked to 
 make him a truly great chief was the religion of Christ in 
 his heart. lis thorough honesty, and that of his people, 
 was fully demonstrated by their never having touched Liv- 
 -ingstone’s possessions or meddled with them in any way. 
 This was remarkable, especially as the wagon containing 
 his outfit and that of his companions had stood for a long 
 while unguarded in the principal street of the village, where 
 men, women, and children had free access to it. 
 
 Among other things, Livingstone showed Bubi’s people 
 how to dig a canal, whereby the water of the river was led 
 
 into their gardens, thus greatly improving the vegetation, _. 
 
 Alas for Livingstone’s hopeful expectations in regard to 
 4 
 
50 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 RUDE METHODS OF AGRICULTURE AS PRACTICED BY BUBUS PEOPLE, 
 
 the conversion of Bubi! The native teacher he left be- 
 hind soon sickened and died, while poor Bubi himself was 
 burned to death in an explosion of gunpowder with which 
 one of his sorcerers was experimenting. The ignorant 
 creature had seen the flash of the powder when the guns of 
 Livingstone’s party were discharged, and, believing they 
 had previously bewitched it, thought he would burn the en- 
 chantment out of it. This fool-hardy experiment cost his 
 own life and that of poor Bubi, who was cu riously looking on. 
 
 Advancing farther into the interior, Livingstone next 
 erossed a portion of the great Kalahari desert. During 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 51 
 
 this march the men were often pressed for food, and Liv- 
 inystone speaks of the keen delight with which he once sat 
 down to a supper of rhinoceros meat, with porridge made of 
 Indian meal thickly mixed with the gravy. Passing out of 
 the desert, the travelers shortly came to the village of Se- 
 komi, a chief of the Bamangwato. Livingstone thus speaks 
 of these people: “Their conceptions of the Deity are of the 
 most vague and contradictory nature, and the name of God 
 conveys no more to their understanding than that of superior- 
 ity. | Hence they do not hesitate to apply the name to their 
 chiefs. I was every day shocked by being addressed by 
 that title myself, and though it as often furnished me with 
 a text from which to tell them of the only true God and 
 Jesus Christ whom he has sent, yet it deeply pained me, 
 and I never felt so fully convinced of the lamentable dete-_ 
 rioration of our species. It is indeed a mournful truth that 
 man has become as the beasts that perish.” : 
 
 He found this place constantly threatened by one great 
 terror—lions. - During the night their awful cries could be 
 heafton every side, while in the day-time they were so bold 
 as to show themselves all about the village. Almost on the 
 very eve of Livingstone’s arrival a shocking occurrence took 
 place, which made a deep and lasting impression upon him. 
 
 'A woman was actually devoured in her garden by one of 
 these beasts, and within but a few steps of her hut, where 
 were her children and some of her relatives. The cries of 
 the orphan children were heart-rending to hear. During 
 the whole of the night and day following her death the 
 hills and the valleys around echoed and reéchoed with 
 their_bitter-wails. The effect upon Livingstone was pain- 
 ful and startling. He says: “I frequently thought, as I 
 listened to the loud sobs, painfully indicative of the sorrows 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 53 
 
 of those who have no hope, that if some of our churches 
 could have heard their sad wailing, it would have awakened 
 the firm resolution to do more for the heathen than they 
 have yet done.” 
 
 Though Livingstone at first found Sekomi very stub. 
 born and bitterly opposed to the new religion, which taught 
 amone other things the forgiveness of enemies, some precious 
 seed of the brave missiouary’s planting finally began to stir 
 with a pulse of life. A conception of his darkened condi- 
 tion, faint though it was at first, gradually dawned upon 
 Sekomi. As the voice of conscience grew louder he became 
 more alarmed and distressed. One day, as Livingstone sat 
 beside him reading from the New Testament, and explain- 
 ing the passages as he went along, in such language as Se- 
 komi could best understand, the chief suddenly sprung to 
 his feet and broke forth: “O this wicked heart of mine! 
 It sometimes makes me angry at every one, and gives me 
 terrible thoughts, and drives me to want to do terrible things! 
 Give me medicine to-chanve it; quick, my friend! O give 
 me medicine, good medicine-man, to change my heart!” 
 
 Livingstone lifted up the Testament, and began to tell 
 him how through the teachings of that precious Book alone 
 his heart could be changed, when pees Sekomi cried out 
 
 again: “No; give me medici drink! Give 
 
 me medicine, that my sick heart may be cured! I want no 
 book, good medicine-man! What could I do with a book? 
 I could neither eat nor drink it. O give me medicine. 
 quick, lest my heart die!” He had seen Livingstone, in 
 his office as physician, administering medicine to the sick 
 and suffering, thereby making them well and strong again: 
 thus, poor ignorant savage, the idea had fastened itself 
 within his mind that the sick in spirit must be cured in the 
 
54 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 same way. It wasa long while ere Livingstone could make 
 the difference plain to him, or show him with any degree of 
 clearness the manner in which the Great Physician is to 
 cure the sin-sick soul. 
 
 The tribe next visited by Livingstone was the Bakaa. 
 They were terribly afraid when they heard of his coming, 
 for shortly before that they had murdered a trader and his 
 whole company, and their guilty consciences made them see 
 in Livingstone an avenger sent by the Great Spirit. This 
 belief was all the more strengthened when they learned that 
 he carried fire-arms, and could bring down a great beast at 
 many yards distant. With the exception of the chief and 
 two of his attendants, every man, woman, and child forsook 
 the village on Livingstone’s approach. They were watch- 
 ing him from a distance, and as soon as they saw him partake 
 of a bowl of porridge with the chief, as a token of his friend- 
 ly intentions, and afterward lie down and go to sleep, their 
 fears were allayed, and in a little while they all returned 
 to the village. 
 
 As he had convinced the Bakwains, so did Livingstone 
 finally convince the Bakaa that his mission was one of mer- 
 cy and peace alone. He found them lamentably ignorant 
 and superstitious. They had never even heard the name of 
 God; or if they had, it was but to apply it to some great 
 chief, living at a distance, who might be expected to come 
 at any time and make war against them, Their conception 
 of a Supreme Being was of a Great Spirit whose chariot 
 was the clouds, and whose voice when angry spoke in thun- 
 der, and when pleased his smile was the splendor of the 
 noonday sun. The Great Spirit made his rewards in pro- 
 portion to the number of scalps taken in open battle, and 
 his punishments in accordance with the weak inaction of a 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 5d 
 
 cringing and cowardly spirit. They had no knowledge, no 
 idea of a life hereafter, save their belief that the Great 
 Spirit might take some of the more valiant of them to ride 
 with him in his mighty cloud-chariot, and even to enter the 
 brilliant arch that led to his principal abode, which was 
 represented to them by the rainbow. 
 
 Livingstone remained for some time among this tribe, cn- 
 deavoring to enlighten them as to the power of that “ pre- 
 cious blood that cleanseth from all sin.” Here he for the 
 first time addressed the people in their own Janguage—for 
 and after the manner 
 
 he had previously used interpreters 
 of a discourse. This patient sowing was not without its 
 reward, and Livingstone says of himself at this time: “I 
 bless God daily that he has bestowed upon one so worthless 
 the distinguished privilege and honor of being the first mes- 
 senger of mercy who has ever trod these regions.” 
 
 Leaving the Bakaa, Livingstone began his return to Ku- 
 ruman. On this journey he again heard of the wonderful 
 lake, beyond which there was said to be a country abound- 
 ing in ivory, gold, precious stones, and other valuable and 
 beautiful things. At one time he was actually within a few 
 days’ journey of the lake, but not knowing it passed on. 
 However, it remained for him to discover this lake in 1849, 
 as we shall presently see. 
 
 Livingstone had now been in Africa two years. In that 
 time he had traveled over quite two thousand miles of coun- 
 try, and seen sights to make his heart both sad and glad. In 
 many respects he had found things quite as dark and for- 
 bidding as they had been pictured, while on the other hand 
 there was much to encourage him. Though the whole 
 country abounded in dangers, and the traveler’s life was 
 often in peril, still it was far from being the arid and deso- 
 
56 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 late waste which the popular fancy had painted it. True, 
 there were the burning sands, the blistering rays of the sun, 
 the hissing of deadly serpents, and the roaring of ferocious 
 wild beasts; but there were tall, beautiful trees; bright, : 
 waving flowers; luxuriant grasses; broad, fertile valleys; 
 and cool, deep lakes. The people, too, were ignorant and 
 superstitious, and to some extent cruel and blood-thirsty ; 
 and there is no question that Livingstone’s life might soon 
 have paid the forfeit of his coming but for his manner of 
 dealing with them. He was brave, open, and kind—letting 
 them see from the first that he was their friend, and 
 _once deceiving them. Thus they came to look upon him 
 with trust, and to believe fully that he would do whatever 
 he promised to do. Besides, they soon began to regard 
 his mission as one of benefit to themselves. They did not 
 quite understand it as yet, with the exception of the few he - 
 had led into the clear light, but they felt that in some way 
 he meant to do them good; and believing this, they let him 
 go and come among them unmolested. His medical skill 
 and knowledge helped him greatly, for he was often enabled 
 thereby to soothe their pains and administer healingly to the 
 ills of their bodies. Because of this, in time Livingstone’s 
 name grew to be a power in that savage land. The poor, 
 afflicted creatures, hearing-of-the-wonderful-skill of-this 
 “ reat medicine-man,” as he was now called, came to him 
 ~ from hundreds cf miles... No- wonder they felt impelled to 
 consider him gratefully, and to reverence even the sound 
 of his name, for he never turned away one without first 
 doing all he could to allay his sufferings. j 
 One peculiarity of these people struck Livingstone, and 
 touched a deep chord in his heart. Often he was called 
 upon to remove tumors, cancers, and to perform other pain- 
 
LIFEOF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. vl 
 
 ful operations. these poor-untutored-savages endured the 
 most terrible sufferings without a ery, often without so 
 much as a change of face. Even the women were brave 
 in this respect, scarcely giving a grunt or a moan. The 
 men would say: “A man like me never cries. It is only 
 children that cry out under pain.” The women would say: 
 “We are not men, but we know how not to ery.” “ Yet,” 
 adds Livingstone, “ when the Spirit of God began to work 
 on their hearts, they would cry out most piteously. Some- 
 times in-ehureh, while I was preaching, they would endeay- 
 or to screen themselves from my eyes by hiding under the 
 forms, or by covering their heads with their karosses, as a 
 remedy against their convictions. Often, when they found 
 that that would not do, they would rush out of the church, 
 erying with all their might, as if the hand of death were 
 behind them.” Surely in these signs the missionary had 
 much to cheer and encourage him, for well he knew that 
 the hearts thus forcibly worked upon by the power of the 
 Spirit could not be far from complete surrender. 
 
 With all that he was doing for both the bodies and the 
 souls of men, Livingstone had yet the time to make many 
 botanical and geographical researches. / During these two 
 years he had discovered no less than\thirty-two edible 
 roots and forty-three fruits that grew without cultivation— 
 a number of them in the desert, where the outside ea 
 had long believed no manner of vegetation could exist. 
 
 Livingstone reached Kuruman on his return in Jake, 
 1842. No directions had yet come from the Society; so he 
 set out on another journey of exploration, as well as of mis- 
 sionary labor. This time he passed into the country of the 
 Bakatla. Here he found the soil quite fertile, and the 
 people more inclined to follow agriculture as a pursuit than 
 
58 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 any others he had yet come upon. Among other things, 
 he was astonished at beholding an iron manufactory in their 
 midst. He at once expressed a desire to pass through it, and 
 make a note of their manner of working it. Greatly to his 
 amusement, however, he was informed that he could not do 
 so unless he should first prove that he was a bachelor. - No 
 married man, they told him, was allowed to go through, for 
 fear of his bewitching the iron. A sad reflection this, sure- 
 ly, upon the fairer sex; so thought the gallant Doctor, and 
 so he unburdened himself to those around him. But it was 
 a just precaution, they assured him, and not altogether un- 
 necessary, since a man subjected to a woman’s wiles was him- 
 self liable to practice those wiles in turn. Livingstone soon 
 convinced them of the justness of his claim to enter, and was 
 
 pee interested, as well as surprised, by what he saw. 
 
 \ When he asked the chief if he would like to have him come 
 
 ‘and live among his people for awhile and teach them, he 
 jamped up and clapped his hands, and exclaimed: “O! I 
 shall dance if you do! I shall hop, and I shall skip! If you 
 will do what you say, I will collect all my people to hoe for 
 youa garden, and you will get more sweet reed and cern than 
 myself.” )This was a magnificent offer, when viewed from a- 
 savage“Ppoint of view, since the chief’s share of any thing 
 was apt to be as much as that of all the others together. 
 This was doubtless because he had so many wives to feed. 
 But Livingstone could make no definite promise, for he 
 was at that time undecided as to his plans. However, on 
 reaching Kuruman, and finding that a message had at last 
 come—a message that allowed him much freedom of action 
 —he prepared to return to his new-found friends, the Ba- 
 katla, in the valley of the Mabotsa. 
 
SCHAPTER. V. 
 
 THE BAKATLA WELCOME LIVINGSTONE’S RETURN WITH GREAT 
 DEMONSTRATION—HIS LION ADVENTURE—HE BECOMES A HERO 
 —HIS MARRIAGE TO MARY MOFFAT—THEIR HOME AT MABOT- 
 SA—THEY LEAVE MABOTSA FOR CHONUANE—THE GREAT CHIEF, 
 SECHELE—THE REMOVAL TO KOLOBENG—“ DID YOUR FATHERS 
 KNOW ?”—SECHELE’S CONVERSION—THE MALICIOUSNESS OF THE 
 BOERS—LIVINGSTONE’S BRAVE DEED—HE ESTABLISHES A CLAIM 
 UPON THE BAKWAINS—AN ENTHUSIASTIC BELLMAN—THE MIS- 
 SIONARY’S EARNEST WORK BEGINS TO BE REWARDED. 
 
 HE Bakatla were delighted at Livingstone’s return, 
 
 and prepared to welcome him with great demon- 
 stration. Soon after this, an event occurred which came 
 near putting an end to the life of our brave missionary. 
 Although of a higher degree of intelligence and industry 
 than the majority of their dusky brethren, the Bakatla 
 were great cowards. They were scarcely ever known to go 
 into a fight of their own accord, and when on the hunt they 
 were oftener the pursued than the pursuing. Between the 
 period of Livingstone’s first and second visits a number of 
 lions had established themselves about the village, badly 
 frightening its inhabitants. Livingstone tried to organize 
 an attacking party to go im search of the beasts, and drive 
 them away. But despite his offer to put himself at their 
 head, he could only. induce some ten or twelve natives to 
 follow him. They soon came in sight of the lions, on a 
 small hill thickly set about with trees. At Livingstone’s 
 
 command the party formed a circle round the trees, gradu- 
 ; (59) 
 
60 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 ally closing in until within easy range of the lions. Se- 
 lecting a monster beast, that was lying upon a rock as 
 though asleep, Livingstone brought his rifle to his shoulder, 
 and prepared to aim. Before he could fire, one of the na- 
 tives—the village school-master, to whom Livingstone had 
 taught the use of fire-arms—raised his own gun and dis- 
 charged it quickly. The ball, instead of striking the lion, 
 only flattened itself against the rock whereon the huge brute 
 lay. Hesprung up, lashing his tail furiously, and savagely 
 biting at the spot that had been hit. Then he dashed for- 
 ward and broke unhurt through the circle of panic-stricken 
 natives, who were scattering in every direction. The other 
 lions, through the fear of the natives, were also allowed to 
 escape. Much disgusted at the cowardly behavior of the 
 Bakatla, Livingstone called upon them to rally and pur- 
 sue the beasts. He could do nothing with them, however; 
 aud fearing to fire, lest he should hit some of the running 
 men, he prepared to return to the village. On his way back 
 he came upon a fourth lion, also sitting upon a rock, but 
 instead of being asleep he was staring at the party with an- 
 gry and threatening eyes. Livingstone stopped, took care- 
 ful aim, and fired the contents of both barrels of his gun 
 into the brute. The lion staggered, and for a moment 
 seemed about to fall. Seeing this, the natives started to run 
 toward him, clapping their hands and shouting, “ He is shot! 
 He is dead! Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!” But Living- 
 stone knew better than they did. Though badly wounded, 
 the animal was far from being dead, and was likely to be- 
 come infuriated. Livingstone’s coolness and promptness at 
 this critical moment saved more than one life, beyond doubt. 
 “Stop!” he cried out warningly to the rushing natives. 
 “Don’t go near him until I have had another shot. He is 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 61 
 
 not dead; do not so deceive yourselves.” While he was 
 ramming the bullets down into his gun, with his back to the 
 rock on which the lion stood, Livingstone heard a shout. 
 Glancing around quickly, he saw the huge brute crouched 
 for aspring uponhim. Before he could move out of the way 
 the monster body came flying through the air. One of the 
 paws struck Livingstone’s shoulder with crushing force, and 
 the next moment he and the lion went down together. As 
 the great paw held Livingstone’s shoulder, the animai 
 gave a horrible growl and shook it as a cat would shake a 
 mouse, or a terrier-dog a rat. In this act the bone was 
 splintered, and the flesh, from the neck down to the elbow, 
 terribly lacerated with the sharp claws. Almost fainting 
 outright, Livingstone nevertheless retained some degree of 
 consciousness. He soon felt himself fast sinking into a stu- 
 por that took away all fear, and allowed no sense of horror 
 even as he glanced up into the infuriated brute’s blazing 
 eyes. In speaking of it further, Livingstone said it was 
 doubtless such a sensation as patients have when, partly 
 under the influence of chloroform, they see the operation 
 that is taking place without feeling the sharp incisions of 
 the knife. “I have since thought,” Livingstone would add 
 when relating the occurrence, “that this peculiar state was 
 probably produced in all animals killed by the carnivora; 
 and if so, it is a merciful provision by our benevolent Cre- 
 ator for lessening the pain of death.” 
 While Livingstone thus lay in the clutches of the lion, 
 -Mebalwe, the school-master—who was really something of 
 a brave man after all—leveled his gun, took aim this time 
 more carefully, and fired; but his rifle, which was only 
 a flint one, missed fire in both barrels. However, the 
 flashes served to divert the attention of the lion, and to di- 
 
————————— 
 
 BIVINGSTONE’S RESCUE FROM THE LION, 
 
LiFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 63 
 
 rect his rage into another channel. With a growl as hor- 
 rible as the first, he left Livingstone and sprung upon Me- 
 balwe, biting into his thigh; whereupon a nephew of the 
 school-master, gaining courage from the dreadful situation 
 of his uncle, drew near and tried to fasten his spear into 
 the brute’s shoulder. His attention again diverted, the 
 lion now turned to spring with increased fury upon his new 
 assailant; but before he could do so, the bullet Livingstone 
 had fired took fatal effect, and with a startling ery of baf- 
 fled rage and hate, that made the rocks far and near re- 
 sound, the monster beast fell dead. 
 
 That evening the Bakatla made a huge bonfire of the 
 earcass, about which they danced in great glee, declaring 
 the slain king of the jungles the largest they had ever set 
 their eyes upon. After that Livingstone was looked up to 
 as second only to the chief. 
 
 It was a long time before Livingstone’s arm and shoulder 
 healed. They always caused him some pain and much dis- 
 comfort. On his first return to England he had the great- 
 er portion of the splintered bone removed, and a false joint 
 inserted. It was by this false joint that the body of the 
 brave missionary was afterward identified when brought 
 from the heart of Africa. 
 
 Intelligence of Livingstone’s great lion adventure spread 
 all over the world. In his own country it made quite a 
 hero of him. Ile was inclined to look somewhat lightly 
 upon it, save as he recognized in it a miraculous escape 
 through God’s help. To be exalted for such a thing as 
 this was far from the desire or tastes of a man of Living- 
 stone’s temperament. Whenever the subject was alluded 
 to in his presence, by any of his enthusiastic countrymen, 
 he would turn it off with some jesting remark. When they 
 
64 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 tried to honor him because oi it, he gave them to understand 
 that he considered this adventure as the very least of his 
 achievements. He had done many braver and better and 
 grander things: still for them there was no word of praise. 
 The same world that had taken little note of the daring mis- 
 sionary who had tramped thousands of miles through burn- 
 ing sands and under a blazing sun, enduring all manner of 
 suffering, to carry the glad tidings of eternal life to dying 
 souls, was now going wild over the hunter who had come 
 safely through a thrilling lion adventure. Such is the 
 standard by which the world ever gauges true courage. 
 
 To a young lady who once put the unexpected question, 
 “What were your thoughts, Doctor, when the lion had you 
 in his grasp?” he replied, with a dry humor bordering upon 
 the grotesque, “I was wondering what part of me he would 
 eat first.” 
 
 Livingstone remained at Mabotsa about three years in 
 all. It was to this place he first carried his wife after their 
 marriage in 1844. The home into which the proud and 
 happy husband introduced his young wife, though in the 
 heart of a savage country, was not without many attrac- 
 tions, even comforts. It was all the work of his own hands, 
 and that made him the prouder of it. He had put in place 
 every stick, every stone of the house; even the mud of the 
 chimney he had mixed and daubed together, though his 
 wounded arm had barely healed by this time. Still he 
 cheerfully went on with the work, happy in the contempla- 
 tion of the joy and comfort that modest little home would 
 afford. When finished the house was indeed a goodly one, 
 notwithstanding the somewhat uncouth style of its archi- 
 tecture. Within, every thing was as fresh and sweet and 
 clean as the heart of love could devise, or the willing and 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 65 
 
 diligent hand prepare from the rude materials to be found 
 in that savage land. Without, the garden was a pertect 
 picture of loveliness. There was even a little summer- 
 house, built of plaited straw and stiff reeds ingeniously 
 woven together. Taking all this into consideration, it is 
 not surprising that Livingstone felt loath to quit his pleas- 
 ant home, as he was afterward forced to do through a mis- 
 understanding with one of the missionaries. 
 
 Livingstone and his faithful wife had done good work at 
 Mabotsa. In addition to their own dwelling, a school-house 
 and church had been erected; and many darkened souls 
 were brought to the light through their united and cour- 
 ageous labors. Mabotsa never flourished again as it had 
 done when the Livingstones resided there. 
 
 The chief to whom Livingstone next attached himself 
 was Sechele, head of one branch of the Bakwains, as Bubi 
 was of the other—the tribe having been divided some years 
 previous through a disagreement in regard to the chieftain- 
 ship. They were not divided on any other point, however, and 
 kept up very friendly relations. Sechele’s village was only 
 about five days’ journey from the mission station of Mabot- 
 sa, and Livingstone had once or twice visited Sechele dur- 
 ing the period spent with the Bakatla. Having on one of 
 these occasions been so fortunate as to heal a child of the 
  chief’s that the medicine-men of the tribe had given up to 
 die, Livingstone had established a claim upon Sechele of 
 which he seemed never to be unmindful. Ever since that 
 time he had been persistent in urging Livingstone to come 
 and take up his abode among his people for a short while, 
 if no longer. From the moment that Livingstone met 
 Sechele he felt strangely drawn toward him. He was of 
 unusual intelligence, reading men and things with an ac 
 
 5 
 
66 LIFE OF DAV:D LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 curacy remarkable in one of his race. Livingstone felt that 
 if he could convert Sechele to the truths of the gospel, he 
 would have in him a valuable helper in the work of Chris- 
 tianizing his people. ' 
 
 So it was with many cheerful and hopeful anticipations 
 that Livingstone left Mabotsa in 1846, and took up his 
 abode with Sechele at the village of Chonuane. Sechele 
 had descended from a long line of chiefs, each of whom had 
 in some way distinguished himself from the common run of 
 his people. Sechele’s father and grandfather had been great 
 travelers, the latter being also the first savage to tell his 
 people of a race of white men altogether different in hab- 
 its and appearance from theirs. 
 
 Livingstone did not much like the situation of Sechele’s 
 village at Chonuane. There was not a sufficient supply of 
 either water or pasturage. However, he determined to re- 
 main there for a year or so, at least. Again with his own 
 hands the brave missionary erected his dwelling-place and 
 laid out his little patches of garden; but this time he did 
 not make so pretentious a building, for he did not know 
 but that he might move away at any moment. As he had 
 feared, a drought soon came; the vegetation dried up, and 
 people and cattle suffered greatly for water. He now ad- 
 vised Sechele to remove to some spot near a running body 
 of water—a creek or river—from which canals might be dug 
 to irrigate the land, thus giving the vegetation as much 
 moisture as possible. This would likewise provide an as- 
 sured supply of water for cattle and people, unless a drought 
 of unusual severity should come and dry up the stream it- 
 self; but Livingstone believed that if the stream was full 
 and deep such a catastrophe would not occur for some 
 years, Sechele looked upon Livingstone’s suggestion as a 
 
LIFE OF ‘DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 67 
 
 wise one, and determined to act upon it at once. The place 
 selected for the planting of the new village was about forty 
 miles away, in a beautiful spot near the banks of the Kolo- 
 beng River, from which the station afterward took its name. 
 They were still in the country of the Bechuana, and only 
 about two hundred and fifty miles from Kuruman. On 
 one side of them, though some distance away, was the great 
 Kalahari desert, and on the other the Transvaal, the strong- 
 hold of the Boers. Livingstone was so well pleased with 
 the new situation that he determined to settle here perma- 
 nently, making it the base of his operations in the country 
 surrounding. So for the third time he began the building 
 of a home-nest for his little family. A family it was now, 
 indeed, since a wee stranger had recently come to dwell 
 with them—Robert Moffat Livingstone by name. 
 
 At Chonuane, besides the drought, the missionaries—for 
 we must include Mrs. Livingstone along with her husband, 
 since she labored side by side with him—had suffered much 
 for the want of absolute necessitics. They had to use 
 parched corn for coffee, and sometimes the pounded roots 
 of a certain tree in place of meal, the bare handful of corn 
 being too precious to convert into bread. But all these dis. 
 comforts they bore without a murmur—the delicate wife as 
 well as the stronger husband, which proved how worthy 
 she was to be his helpmeet. 
 
 As he had hoped, Livingstone found Sechele ready and 
 willing to hear the many truths of which he had come to 
 tell him, and to receive instruction in other things. He 
 accomplished the remarkable feat of learning the alphabet 
 in a single day. He was proud of the praise he received, 
 and redoubled his efforts. When Livingstone came to tell 
 him of the great white throne on which God sat, and of 
 
9) 
 
 68 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 God himself, before whose shining face the earth and heay- 
 ens shall flee away and roll together like a burning scroll, 
 Sechele trembled with fear and terror. He sprung to his 
 feet, and walked about restlessly; he wrung his hands, and 
 looked up imploringly toward the sullen horizon, then an- 
 gry with the signs of approaching tempest. Finally, com- 
 ing back to where Livingstone sat, he threw himself, the 
 picture of miserable despair, on the ground at the mission- 
 ary’s feet. ‘‘ Youstartle me!” he cried; ‘ you frighten me 
 out of what senses [have! You make my bones to shake and 
 my knees to tremble till there is no more strength left in me! 
 My arm shakes so I could not draw the arrow! My head 
 swims in such a way I could not see how to follow the buf- 
 falo! O! alas is me! I am undone! Whither shall I fly? 
 What shall Ido? Everywhere I look I see the eyes of that 
 great and angry God fixed upon me! O white man!” rais- 
 ing his head suddenly with a passionate gesture, and look- 
 ing at Livingstone with eyes that burned like fire, “ why 
 didn’t you come sooner to tell me of this? Why have you 
 let me go on all these years without bringing to me a knowl- 
 edge of these terrible things?” Dropping his head again, 
 he raised it after a moment and faced Livingstone, with the 
 unexpected question: ‘* White man, did your fathers know 
 this that you have just told me? Did they know of this 
 angry and frowning God who so punishes all those who do 
 not try to please him?” On Livingstone’s replying in the 
 affirmative, he broke forth more piteously than ever: “Then 
 why didn’t your fathers come to tell my fathers? They 
 knew all this, yet they let my fathers die in darkness and 
 ignorance! They let them go and face this terrible God 
 without telling them where they were going!” 
 
 What a fearful ery to ring in Christian ears! What an 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 69 
 
 accusation to sink into Christian hearts! No wonder the 
 good missionary, as he heard it—even with all he had done— 
 felt sad and reflective. ‘“ My fathers died in darkness and 
 ignorance, and your fathers did not come to tell them of that 
 God before whom they went unprepared.” Alas! poor hea- 
 then, dying in darkness and despair, while just across one 
 ocean were the white men—brothers they called themselves 
 —who knew all these things, yet they came not to tell you! O 
 reader, shall any of these things be said of us years hence? 
 Shall that dreadful ery ring in our ears also, “ You knew 
 allthis, yet you did not come to tell us?” Shall the bitter 
 memories of neglected opportunities some day make our 
 hearts sick with remorse? O let us pray not so, and work 
 that it be not so; for there is a work for all, even for the 
 smallest. There is a ery from over the seas: “ We know not 
 these things; will you come and tell us?” Who of us will 
 heed it? Who of us, on the other hand, will carelessly pass 
 it by? It is not for all of us to go, but it is for all of us to 
 send—our dollars, our dimes, our mites, every one that we 
 ean. Who of us will enter into the work 
 So bravely, so kindly, so well, 
 Angels will hasten the story to tell? 
 
 Gradually light began to penetrate the darkened cham- 
 bers of poor Sechele’s soul. He saw himself a sinner, shut 
 out from the wonderful heaven of which the good mission- 
 ary had told him, yet not without hope as it had seemed to 
 him at the first. There was still a chance, if he would only 
 arise and take it. Livingstone had told him that this 
 mighty God from his Great White Throne had declared, 
 “He that cometh unto me, believing, I will in no wise cast 
 out.” O the preciousness of such a promise! How could 
 any one disregard it? Nearer and nearer Sechele drew to 
 
70 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Jesus, yet with all his earnest faith and humble trust he 
 could not quite forget his savage nature. He wanted all 
 the people to accept this new religion, and to begin to pre- 
 pare themselves to enter that wondrous abode of the good 
 of which he had heard such beautiful stories. But many 
 of them showed so little concern that he lost patience 
 with them; and one day he astonished Livingstone by 
 breaking forth with much passion’ ‘ They are a stuoborn 
 and an elephant-headed set! They will take nothing unless 
 it is beaten into them. Let me get my good whip of rhinoe- 
 eros hide, and I will soon have them down on their knees in 
 a body, and begging for mercy at the top of their big, bel- 
 lowing voices!” It was some time before Livingstone could 
 convince him that this was not the way to make Christians. 
 
 The greatest difficulty in the way of Sechele’s full aecept- 
 ance of the Christian religion—as it had been with so many 
 other chiefs—was the putting away of all his wives but one. 
 “Why,” he said, “ how am I to choose between so many 
 charming women? Then, besides, there will be no end to 
 a bad time; for when they know what I am about they will 
 ery out and wring their hands, each one entreating me to 
 take her. And finally when I do make a choice of one, 
 all the others will think me an ungallant man; and no 
 woman yet has had that to say of Sechele. Further than 
 this,” he went on, still more distressed, “ you do not know 
 the fuss it will cause me with the different women’s rela- 
 tives, They will each want to go to fight with me; and I 
 shall not know what to do, there are so many of them.” On 
 Livingstone’s promising to see him safely out of the difficul- 
 ty, Sechele sent all the women away, with the exception of 
 one whom he confessed to Livingstone he had admired 
 more than any of the others. By Sechele’s orders these 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 71 
 
 ex-wives were conveyed in great state to their former homes, 
 having first been well provided for by the chief; so that the 
 sting of their rejection was effectually soothed. 
 
 In a little while Sechele, earnest and believing, presented 
 himself for baptism. When the intelligence of what he had 
 done was carried through the village, there was a great out- 
 ery from the people. They even came in a body to the 
 chief, entreating him not to forsake the religion of his fa- 
 thers, as it would surely bring upon the whole tribe the an- 
 ger of the Great Spirit, and they would all be destroyed. 
 When Livingstone came to administer baptism to Sechele, 
 they stood around him howling and screaming at such a 
 rate that it was with the greatest difficulty he could com- 
 pose himself for observing the rite in the impressive man- 
 ner required. Rising from his knees, Sechele looked 
 around upon his people, his eyes streaming with tears, 
 while in a voice of passionate entreaty be thus addressed . 
 them: “O you really know not what you do! You are as 
 willful and naughty as headstrong children who are bent on 
 having their way, even to their own hurt. O! I entreat 
 you, be willful and disobedient no longer, but come and let 
 this good man,” pointing to Livingstone, “tell you of that 
 which I have found most precious unto my soul. O my 
 brethren, if you would but hear! Am I to be the only one 
 of my people to accept the promises of that great God on 
 the big White Throne? and the only one to go to see him 
 in his heaven? O my children, hearken to the voice of this 
 good man while you may! Hear my own feeble voice, and 
 unbend those stiff necks of yours! O come and be saved 
 while yet there is time!” But they only turned away and 
 began to mock him behind his back, for they were afraid 
 to do so openly 
 
72 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 In proof of his earnestness Sechele begged Livingstone 
 to have family prayer in his hut, in addition to the services 
 in the public hall. To these prayer-meetings Sechele invit- 
 ed such of his people as cared to come. As might be sup- 
 posed, only two or three of them responded; yet it glad- 
 dened both Sechele’s and Livingstone’s hearts to find these 
 two or three in time gradually coming to the light. Se- 
 chele himself now undertook to conduct family prayer, and 
 Livingstone was much impressed by the simple beauty and 
 force of some of his petitions. “If he had had the advan- 
 tages of a thorough education, he would have been a most 
 remarkable man,” Dr. Livingstone was heard to say of him 
 again and again. Sechele also began to read his Bible dai- 
 ly, under Livingstone’s instructions. His favorite writer 
 was Isaiah, and he used to exclaim, with kindling eyes: 
 “ He was a fine man, that Isaiah! He knew how to talk!” 
 _ But in spite of Sechele’s steadfast example and Living- 
 stone’s faithful preaching, with the exception of two or 
 three of Sechele’s stanchest followers—the same that had 
 first come to the meeting—the people of the tribe remained 
 obdurate. Worse than this, they grew sullen and fault- 
 finding. The unusually severe drought Livingstone had 
 thought possible, but not probable—at least for some time— 
 coming on at this period, they charged it all to the mission- 
 ary’s presence among them; and but for Sechele’s fine goy- 
 erning abilities, as well as Livingstone’s fearless bearing, 
 there might now have been serious trouble. In the face of 
 this unlooked-for calamity, they were threatened by the 
 aggressive attitude of the Boers. These people, besides 
 circulating malicious reports concerning Livingstone, were 
 now verging upon what seemed an open declaration of war. 
 When Livingstone had first attached himself to Sechele 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 73 
 
 the Boers had, as was their usual mean way of doing, made 
 a great noise about it, and tried to incite other tribes to war 
 against Sechele; for they were too cowardly to undertake 
 it themselves without help. ‘They told the natives that Se- 
 chele was one of Livingstone’s allies, and was to aid him in 
 his conquest of the country, in return for which Sechele was 
 to be made a great governor when Livingstone set up his 
 autocratic reign throughout Africa. Among other pres- 
 ents Livingstone had given Sechele a large iron pot: this 
 the Boers tried to magnify into an enormous cannon, which 
 they told the poor credulous savages Livingstone and Se- 
 chele kept loaded and ready for instant use. 
 
 To show how ignorant and superstitious these Boers were 
 themselves, they became greatly frightened when the En- 
 glish Government erected a large telescope on top of an ob- 
 servatory at Cape Town. They said to Livingstone: “ What 
 right did your people have to set up that great glass to spy 
 us out and to see what we were doing, even here behind the 
 Cashan Mountains?” The Boers, however, dared not make 
 war openly against Livingstone, not only because of their 
 great cowardice, but for fear of the trouble it would bring 
 them into with England; yet they did every thing in their 
 power to keep the natives stirred up against him. They 
 even tried it with Sechele’s people, which was most unfort- 
 unate for Livingstone at this time. But for Sechele’s watch- 
 ful eye and wise, firm rule, much mischief would have been 
 wrought in the already rebellious camp at Kolobeng. The 
 blessed rain came after awhile, and the savages grew 
 ashamed of their hostile attitude toward Livingstone. Be- 
 sides, something happened just at this time that rendered 
 them forever afterward his stanch friends and admirers. 
 
 One afternoon news came to the village that a party of 
 
74 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE 
 
 Bechuanas, traveling to Sechele’s town on a friendly visit, 
 had been attacked by a black rhinoceros, one of the most 
 savage and dangerous of all the African wild beasts. The 
 furious animal had dashed at the wagon containing the 
 party, and driven one of his horns into the bowels of the 
 driver, inflicting a frightful wound. Thereupon every 
 Bechuana had taken to his heels and left the poor driver 
 to his fate. The rhinoceros, however, instead of staying 
 and finishing the man, took after the fugitives; but being 
 a heavy beast, and the men swift of foot, they were soon be- 
 yond his reach. When they arrived at Sechele’s camp they 
 were panting and out of breath, for they had run nearly 
 every step of the eight miles. When Livingstone heard 
 the story he deemed it not only his professional but his 
 Christian duty to go to the succor of the wounded driver. 
 Sechele was horror-stricken when he learned of the mis- 
 sionary’s intention. It was then nearly night, and the ride 
 was sixteen miles, there and back. ‘ No, no!” said Sechele 
 vehemently; “you must not think of such a thing, my 
 friend, even for a minute. It would be certain death, and 
 we cannot afford to lose you.” Discovering that Living- 
 stone could not be dissuaded from his purpose, Sechele’s 
 next endeavor was to persuade some of his people to ac- 
 company the missionary. But not a man would volunteer, 
 for the Bechuanas had brought too horrible a story—of how 
 the woods between the village and the spot where the driv- 
 er lay were infested with black rhinoceroses. They de- 
 elared that they had counted at least twenty. Finding 
 that Livingstone would go, Sechele let his great love for 
 his friend overcome his own fear, and offered himself to 
 accompany Livingstone. Jiivingstone would not assent to 
 this, and convinced Sechele that, in view of the discontented 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 75 
 
 and rebellious condition of his people, it might be neither 
 safe nor wise for both of them to leave the village at the 
 same time. At length, mounting his horse, Livingstone set 
 off alone. The whole camp followed him to the outskirts 
 of the village, every head adorned with an enormous cow- 
 tail, in order to give him good luck, they said. 
 
 When Livingstone reached the end of his journey he 
 found the poor man dead, and beyond all need of help. 
 But there was one thing he felt that he could do for him: 
 he could take the body back with him, and give it decent 
 burial. This he forthwith proceeded to do. 
 
 It was long past midnight when Livingstone reached the 
 village on his return, still he found the whole camp up and 
 awaiting him. When they comprehended what he had 
 done, the savages went nearly wild over him, and wanted 
 to take him in a triumphal procession around the village. 
 Livingstone at last dissuaded them from this intention, but 
 he could not prevent the bonfires which they built all about 
 the village, and around which they leaped and danced till 
 morning, singing chants in his praise. 
 
 After that, Livingstone had it all his own way with these 
 savage natures; and there was no longer any trouble in get- 
 ting them to come and hear him preach. Previous to that 
 time Sechele had resorted to various stratagems to draw his 
 people to church. He even hired a bellman, and instruct- 
 ed him to use all the methods and tricks of which he was 
 master to get the people to the preaching. This bellman 
 was not only an enthusiast in every work he undertook— 
 going at nothing half-way, but with a headlong rush that 
 threatened to annihilate all things before him—but he 
 was a great curiosity in himself. He stood over six feet in 
 his bare feet, was gaunt in frame. and had an immense nose, 
 
76 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 a terrible pair of eyes, and a voice that could be heard from 
 one end of the village to the other. He liad a platform built 
 near the center of the camp: on this he used to mount, a 
 full half-hour before the beginning of the services, and yell 
 out at the top of his stentorian yoice: “Hi! you woman 
 over there! I see you! You are not making ready to 
 come to church; nor you man either!” Then, as though 
 addressing a visible emissary: ‘Say, you fellow there, 
 knock that woman down who is not coming to church! 
 And that man, trip him up! Give him a kick where he 
 lies! That is it! Let none escape! Knock them down! 
 Run over them! Trample on them! Beat them, I say! 
 See! see! that woman is trying to put on her pot and slip 
 out at the door to run to the woods! That is right, get 
 after her! Trip her up, catch her, and maul her till she 
 bellows like a rhinoceros calf!” Most of those who caught 
 these terrible words ran at once to the place of meeting, for 
 they did not know but that they might be the next ones 
 knocked down and trampled upon by those dreadful emis- 
 saries of the bellman and Sechele, who, it seemed, were 
 running about in search of them. But after the rain came, 
 and Livingstone went on his terrible journey alone, there 
 was no further need of the bellman. The people now came 
 of their own accord to hear the brave missionary who had 
 risked his own life to save that of a poor black man, and 
 finding him dead had shown so much feeling as to bring 
 his body back for decent burial. 
 
 Soon many applications were made for membership in 
 the Church; but so conscientious was Livingstone, so great 
 his fear that their admiration for him might lead them into 
 a demonstration they did not really feel, he would not take 
 them in until first assured of the genuineness of their con- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 17 
 
 victions and the sincerity of their intentions. “‘ Fifty added 
 to the Church’ sounds very fine at home,” he wrote to one 
 of his friends at this time; “but if only five of them are 
 genuine, what will it profit in that great day? I have felt 
 more than ever lately that the great object of our exertions 
 ought to be conversion. Nothing will ever induce me to 
 form an impure Church,” he concluded; and nothing ever 
 did. What better proof do we need than this that David 
 Livingstone’s work was not for praise, nor for show, but for 
 the Master? He hated all sham, all false pretense; he 
 * loved the truth and thorough sincerity in every thing. He 
 would never administer the Lord’s Supper to asingle convert 
 anless he had first, for a year at least, tested his earnest- 
 ness and seen him live the pure, consistent life that marks 
 those who are really Christ’s followers. Thus the work he 
 did was genuine work. No wonder its influence has stood 
 steadfast, and widened with the years; for he built not upon 
 the sand, but upon the Rock, against which the floods 
 vainly beat. 
 
CHAPTER Va 
 
 AN AFRICAN VILLAGE-THE GOVERNMENT OF THE BECHUANA 
 TRIBES—SECHELE ERECTS A CHURCH AND SCHOOL-HOUSE “TO 
 THE '10NOR OF GOD”—MRS, LIVINGSTONE’S NOBLE LABORS—THE 
 CHEERFUL LIFE OF THE BRAVE MISSIONARY AND HIS WIFE— 
 A TRYING PfRIOD—LIVINGSTONE’S ENDURING PATIENCE AND 
 UNSHAKEN TRUST— THE AFRICAN METHOD OF PROCURING 
 MEAT—THE HOSTILE ATTITUDE OF THE BOERS GROWS MORE 
 THREATENING—SECHELE’S NOBLE REPLY. 
 
 OUBTLESS it will interest the reader to learn some- 
 thing of an African village, as well as to gain an in- 
 sight into the home-life of the missionaries. The govern- 
 ment of the Bechuana tribes, of which the Bakwains were 
 one of the principal branches, was somewhat patriarchal in 
 its form. Though the chief was the head of his people, the 
 father was the head of his family, and no one—not even 
 the chief himself—had a right to interfere with his rule in 
 the household over which he presided. Outside, however, 
 the word of the chief was the supreme law by which all 
 were controlled. 
 
 The village was generally erected somewhat in the form 
 of a square, with the residence of the chief occupying the 
 most conspicuous portion, usually near the center. Stretch- 
 ing away on either side of the chief’s home, in rows of two 
 double were the huts of his wives, those of his near relations, 
 and of the principal men of his tribe. About the huts of 
 the fathers of families were also arranged, somewhat after 
 
 the same plan, the huts of their children who had married 
 (78) 
 
NV 
 
 “AOVITIA NVOIUAV 
 
80 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 and set up house for themselves. As a general thing all 
 the huts were built of tough grass, which in that country 
 often grows to the height of ten or twelve feet. They were 
 neatly and ingeniously thatched with coarse straw, and 
 fenced in with high, strong walls made of tiger-grass. When 
 Livingstone came among the Bakwains he taught them to 
 use stone and mortar, as well as boards sawed from the 
 forest; and soon their village showed the effects of this in- 
 dustry. 
 
 Sechele’s people, not being so savage as the majority of 
 their dusky brethren, had gone partly clad—that is, with 
 a leopard-skin, or covering of other kind—even when Liy- 
 ingstone first made their acquaintance. Now, thanks to 
 both his and Mrs. Livingstone’s judicious instructions, they 
 presented quite a respectable appearance. 
 
 The new village of Kolobeng was altogether different 
 from the old one at Chonuane. The houses were arranged 
 in a cluster on the side of a gently sloping eminence instead 
 of in the usual partly circular form. While some of the 
 huts were built of straw, the majority, including the chief’s 
 residence, were made of stone or wood. Besides teaching 
 the people to saw boards, Livingstone showed them how to 
 make and press brick. He also taught them to make can- 
 dles out of the fat of various animals, and soap from a plant 
 called salsola, or from ordinary wood ashes. Thus the peo- 
 ple came to have lights in their houses, instead of on the 
 ground in front of them, and soap to cleanse with—two lux- 
 uries hitherto unknown in South African life. One of the 
 first things Livingstone had sought to instill into their 
 minds was a love for cleanliness. In time this village in 
 South Africa was regarded with no little wonder and curi- 
 osity. Eager sight-seers often came from the remotest 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 81 
 
 tribes to catch a glimpse of it, and to find out if the many 
 extraordinary things that had been told of it were in any 
 degree true. = 
 
 One of the first thingsSechele had done after his conversion 
 was to erect a more commodious church and school-house— 
 “to the honor of God,” he declared, “ who is from henceforth 
 the defender of my town.” Over two hundred men were 
 engaged in this work alone, and when completed the build- 
 ings were indeed an honor to Him to whose glory they had 
 been set apart, as well as a credit to the noble savage 
 through whose zeal and devotion they had been erected 
 Mrs. Livingstone was given charge of the school, and in 
 every way she proved herself a worthy and efficient co- 
 laborer with her husband. 
 
 The whole village generally arose at six o’clock in the 
 summer and at seven in the winter. After family worship 
 in the huts of those who had professed conversion to the 
 new religion, they had breakfast. When breakfast was 
 over, the men, women, and larger children assembled at 
 the school-house, where Livingstone and the two native 
 teachers assisted Mrs. Livingstone. The school held until 
 eleven o’clock, when it was dismissed in order that the pu- 
 pils might go to their work—the men to gardening or 
 ditching and building, the women to the preparation of the 
 noonday meal, and the children to such lighter tasks as 
 they could perform. 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone did her own domestic work, like the 
 other women, with such help as her husband could give her. 
 Usually he ground the corn for her in the little mill he had 
 improvised, gathered the vegetables, milked the cow, or did 
 any other part of the rough outdoor work he could. When 
 
 ground, the corn was baked into bread in an oven Living- 
 6 
 
82 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 stone had constructed in the side of an ant-hill; or it was 
 fried into cakes in a covered frying-pan set in the center of 
 the fire-place. In this same pan the meat was afterward 
 prepared. For a churn they used a jar, in which the milk 
 was shaken into butter. The coffee was boiled in another 
 jar. Livingstone had fashioned the jars out of a stiff clay 
 that became very hard after baking in the sun. 
 
 Now, all these things may appear as hardships to those 
 whose lot has always been cast in civilized places; but that 
 they were far from being so regarded by either Livingstone 
 or his brave wife we have their own cheerful words of de- 
 nial, The gentle spirit of the patient and faithful wife had 
 
 much to do with Livingstone’s enjoyment of this mode of 
 
 life. He says, when speaking of this time: “There is some- 
 thing of the feeling which must have animated Alexander 
 Selkirk on seeing conveniences spring up before him from 
 his own ingenuity; and married life is all the sweeter when 
 so many comforts emanate directly from the thrifty, striv- 
 ing housewife’s hands.” 
 
 After finishing her dinner, and taking only about an 
 hour’s rest, Mrs. Livingstone went next.to her infant school, 
 which comprised all the smaller children of the village, usu- 
 ally from seventy-five to eighty in number. This school 
 she conducted entirely alone. It must have been a severe 
 tax upon her, for she was not very strong; but if wearied, she 
 never once showed it, either by look or word. She also 
 had a sewing-class for girls, instructing them two evenings 
 of each week. It would be impossible to rightly estimate 
 the good accomplished by this heroic woman, or to put any 
 thing like its real value upon her influence over the women 
 and girls of the camp. Most nobly did she preserve her 
 gracious heritage as a missionary’s daughter and a mission- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 83 
 
 ary’s wife. No wonder that Livingstone felt as if all the 
 light and strength had forever gone out of his life when she 
 died. 
 
 Besides the regular Sunday morning and evening serv- 
 ices, Livingstone held public exercises at the church or 
 school-house two nights in the week. A great drum-like 
 gong—one of Livingstone’s many ingenious improvisations 
 —called the people to these services as soon as supper and 
 the milking of the cows were over. 
 
 During the prevalence of the second and severer drought 
 the camp at Kolobeng had suffered greatly, not only from 
 the want of a sufficient supply of water, but also from the 
 lack of proper food. It was a most trying period for Liv- 
 ingstone, for the many deprivations he was forced to see his 
 gentle wife and delicate babies undergo hurt him more than 
 any thing he had yet been called upon to endure. At times 
 it seemed to him as if his calmness would completely desert 
 him. Once the supply of corn gave out, and they had to 
 use bran for meal. It required the united grinding power 
 of three laborers to render this fit for the baking of bread. 
 Even then it was scarcely palatable. At another time there 
 was no meat, and they were obliged to eat locusts, which 
 were far from a pleasant diet. In the neighborhood of the 
 camp there was a species of frog called matlemetto. These 
 frogs were now looked upon as desirable prizes by those who 
 were so fortunate as to secure a number of them. They 
 were enormously large, and the meat—especially that of 
 the hind legs—was really of a quality not to be despised 
 even under more favorable circumstances. During the 
 dry season they hid themselves in great holes which they 
 dug in the ground, and remained there croaking for rain 
 at the top of their coarse voices. These croakings usually 
 
84 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 served as the death-knell of the frogs, for the natives were 
 thus led to their hiding-places. Taking the cue from the 
 Bakwains, Livingstone began searching for these frogs; and 
 it must have been pitiable to see the great missionary, whose 
 name was now going from continent to continent. crouched 
 over a hole in the earth and digging with eager hands to 
 secure these croakers for the hungry mouths at home. 
 
 _ Previous to the drought the inhabitants of Kolobeng, not- 
 withstanding their unfriendliness toward Livingstone, had 
 been both just and generous in the distribution of the meat 
 of animals killed by the village at Jarge. This was in 
 great part owing to the influence of Sechele. Still, to do 
 them justice, the men had never—even of their own accord 
 —sought to deny Livingstone his portion of the meat taken. 
 The custom followed out in procuring this meat was for a 
 party of hunters to go forth at regular intervals and beat 
 the woods about the camp. When they came upon a herd 
 of antelopes, springboks, zebras, quaggas, ete., they would 
 surround them and drive them toward an ixeclosure shaped 
 like a V, which stood near one side of the village. At the 
 pointed end of the inclosure there was a huge pit, into which 
 the animals fell one over the other, and were dispatched by 
 the spears of the natives. The meat was then divided out 
 in proportion to the families, Livingstone getting his share 
 equally with the others. 
 
 The rain now coming, and Livingstone’s gentle yet firm 
 rule being fully established among them, all might have 
 gone on exceedingly well with the Kolobeng camp from 
 this time, and its inhabitants have felt contented and at 
 their ease, but for one threatening evil. This was the Bo- 
 ers, who were daily growing more and more determined in 
 their stand against Livingstone. Of late they had taken a 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 85 
 
 new turn, and one that had perplexed and alarmed the poor 
 savages very much. They had assumed a menacing atti- 
 tude toward the tribes that had for any length of time shel- 
 tered Livingstone and given ear to his teachings. They 
 had even attacked one of the tribes, and carried into captiv- 
 ity the poor creatures who were not killed or not fortunate 
 enough to escape from the village. Daily their threats 
 against the Kolobeng camp became more violent. Finally 
 they sent Sechele a message to the effect that if he did 
 not leave Livingstone to shift for himself, and return to 
 the old trading relations with them, they would attack his 
 village and kill or make captives of all his people. An- 
 other thing that Sechele had done greatly excited their an- 
 ger and enmity: he had recently allowed a party of white 
 traders to pass through his territory, and furnished them 
 with guides to some of the more friendly tribes. One of 
 the principal speculations of the Boers, whereby they added 
 greatly to their revenues, was in the ivory trade. Thus, 
 when they heard of the presence of the white traders in the 
 Bechuana country, they trembled for their future gains; for 
 they knew well enough that these Englishmen, who were far 
 more honest than themselves, would allow the natives a fair 
 price for the ivory which the Boers had heretofore been in 
 the habit of getting in exchange for worthless trifles. 
 Should the natives once get an insight into the real value 
 of ivory, it was not likely that they would ever again al- 
 low themselves to be cheated by the Boers. So the Boers 
 sent Sechele a very threatening message, not only in regard 
 to Livingstone, but also in regard to the future passing of 
 the English traders through his country. Sechele now rose 
 to the full height of his dignity and courage, and proved 
 himself as earnest and faithful as he seemed. He returned 
 
86 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 the Boers this message : “ I, Sechele, am an independent chief, 
 controlled alone by God. God put me here, and him I am 
 to obey, not you. Other tribes you may have conquered, 
 but you will never conquer me as long as that God is with 
 me. The English are my friends. They are good to me. 
 They treat me as their equal. I get every thing I want 
 from them. I would not hinder them if I could from go- 
 ing anywhere about my country they choose. As to the 
 one Englishman who is my friend of all others, and to 
 whom I owe so much, I will stand by him to the last.” 
 Either this manly and confident reply had the effect of in- 
 timidating the Boers for awhile, or else the fear of Living- 
 stone himself was the real cause of their taking no immedi- 
 ate action. As long as Livingstone remained in the camp 
 they never came near it; but their hatred of him, and their 
 mean desire to injure him as much as possible, knew no 
 abatement, as we shall presently see. 
 
SCoaAPTER.VII. 
 
 LIVINGSTONE STARTS IN SEARCH OF LAKE NGAMI—THE KALA 
 HARI DESERT—SEKOMI’S TREACHEROUS BEHAVIOR—THE BUSH- 
 MEN AND BAKLAHARI—LIVINGSTONE’S HOSPITABLE RECEPTION 
 —CROSSING THE DESERT—THE SCARCITY OF WATER—SUFFER- 
 INGS AND HARDSHIPS—-THE DECEPTION OF THE MIRAGE— 
 REACHING THE ZOUGA—NEW HOPES AND DESIRES—LIVING- 
 STONE’S ABSORBING DREAM—THE WONDERFUL LAKE AND THE 
 COUNTRY SURROUNDING IT—THE RETURN TO KOLOBENG. 
 
 EEING things moving along so peacefully and smooth- 
 S ly at Kolobeng, Livingstone felt that he might now 
 safely leave them for awhile in the hands of his faithful 
 wife, Sechele, and the native teachers, and put into execu- 
 tion a design he had long cherished. This was to make a 
 journey of exploration into the country farther north, in 
 order to find, if possible, that wonderful lake of which so 
 much had been told him. His purpose was strengthened 
 by the coming to the Kolobeng camp of the Messrs. Murray 
 and Oswell, two great English travelers and hunters. They 
 were also on the lookout for all the geographical knowledge 
 they could gather, Mr. Murray especially. When they 
 heard of the lake they were eager to visit it, and proposed to 
 Livingstone that they should start at once. As they would 
 prove traveling companions not to be disregarded in a coun- 
 try like this, and had proposed to bear all the expenses of 
 guides, etc., Livingstone thought it an opportunity such as 
 he might never have again. In the meantime a number of 
 
 messengers from Lechulatebe, an influential chief who re- 
 (87) 
 
88 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 sided in the lake country, had also appeared at Kolobeng, 
 bearing a request that Livingstone would visit him, and 
 holding out many inducements for him to do so. This, too, 
 was taken into consideration, for one of the principal objects 
 in view was to establish all the friendly relations possible 
 with the chiefs of that section. 
 
 Accordingly, at day-break on the morning of June 1st, 
 1849, Livingstone, after first committing his little family to 
 God’s care, and to the trust and protection of the faithful 
 Sechele, set out with his friends on the journey in search of 
 Lake Ngami. Between them and the country they hoped 
 to reach lay the great Kalahari desert, a portion of which 
 Livingstone had once before crossed. But the journey 
 then was nothing like the present journey was to be. Liy- 
 ingstone earnestly prayed to God for guidance and protec- 
 tion. 
 
 Strictly speaking, the Kalahari is not really a desert, 
 since it is far from being devoid of vegetation, or even of 
 water. Most of the growth, however, is of a kind that can 
 exist with but little moisture, and often, strange to say, 
 grows the rankest in the driest places. The vegetation is 
 principally of coarse, stiff grasses that grow to the height 
 of many feet, and of various creeping plants, with here 
 and there a clump of trees or a cluster of shrubs. Where 
 water is found it is usually in small pools formed by the 
 rain, or in the beds of long dried-up rivers. That the Kal- 
 ahari did at one time, as is claimed for it, contain many 
 water-courses is evidenced by the plainly defined channels 
 of these streams, now glistening bare and arid in the blis- 
 tering rays of the sun. 
 
 The animals to be seen are chiefly of a kind that can long 
 endure thirst, such as the antelope species. Yet others 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 89 
 
 sometimes find their way up into the wildernesses of the 
 desert through the dry channels of the streams, and it is 
 not an uncommon sight to see a drove of buffaloes, or even 
 of elephants, feeding upon the rank grasses. Snakes, most- 
 ly of the smaller varieties, both poisonous and non-poison- 
 ous, abound in great numbers, and one of the principal 
 dangers against which the traveler has to guard is their 
 often deadly bite. However, they generally give a warn- 
 ing hiss, and with proper caution can be very nearly avoid- 
 ed. Insects, too, are abundant and annoying—ants, cater- 
 pillars, bugs, beetles, and roaches. 
 
 The route chosen by Livingstone’s party across the des- 
 ert had not been passed over in fifty years or more, even by 
 a native. Previous to that time, however, it had been a 
 highway of travel for the various wandering tribes. But 
 owing to the severe droughts that had prevailed since then, 
 it had become such a parched and desolate waste that even 
 the Bushmen, the mest thirst-enduring of all the African 
 tribes, dared not cross it. Livingstone nevertheless be- 
 lieved that by a proper formation of plans, and the right 
 preparation before starting out, he and his little party could 
 get across safely. Moreover, he felt that it would be 
 safer and wiser to risk even the terrors of the desert than 
 attempt to pass through a country where dwelt several hos- 
 tile tribes who had threatened to attack the explorers should 
 they come near. Livingstone’s friends not only approved 
 his determination to choose the desert, but they never for a 
 moment doubted that he would carry them safely across. 
 
 As has been stated, the party started from the camp at 
 Kolobeng on the morning of the Ist of June, 1849. For 
 the first two days their route lay through a hill-covered 
 country, with beautiful and fertile valleys between. On 
 
90 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 the third day they entered the territory of Sekomi, of whom 
 we have before heard. It seems that Sechele held some 
 sort. of authority over Sekomi, hence there was not the best 
 of feeling on the latter’s side, for he was a very proud and 
 willful chief. In order to propitiate him, as well as to win 
 his good offices in behalf of Livingstone’s proposed expedi- 
 tion, a fine ox and two cows were sent forward as presents. 
 Sekomi was quite profuse in his greeting of his old friend, 
 Dr. Livingstone; for he really both admired and liked the 
 brave and kindly missionary, who was not afraid to do his 
 duty even amidst the most trying circumstances. Still, 
 when he learned of the Doctor’s intention to cross the des- 
 ert in search of the lake, he endeavored by every means in 
 his power to dissuade him from it. He believed that if 
 Livingstone was lost in the desert he would be blamed for 
 it, because he had not tried to stop him when he passed 
 through his domains. Thus he sought to impress Living- 
 stone, and to make him believe that this was the chief cause 
 of his opposition to the undertaking; but his real motive in 
 trying to keep the missionary from pushing on will appear 
 in the sequel. 
 
 “ Do not go,” he urged Livingstone. “Turn back now, 
 and return to Sechele. You will die; you will surely be 
 lost in that desert! The thirst will kill you, and the sun 
 will dry you up! Then all the white men, your brothers, 
 will blame me, and doubtless make war against me for not 
 trying to save you when I had the chance.” 
 
 Somehow Sekomi had gotten the idea that Livingstone 
 was a person of great importance in his own country. There- 
 fore, he really had some fear and misgiving in regard to the 
 consequences likely to follow upon Livingstone’s death. So 
 he made up his mind to do all he could to oppose the expe- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 91 
 
 dition on this ground, knowing it would never do to give the 
 real reason of his opposition. 
 
 To Sekomi’s entreaties Livingstone only replied with 
 quiet humor that he was a very “hard-headed man,” and 
 bent on having his own way; therefore, he could not go 
 back, because his head told him to go on. At this Se- 
 komi expressed a curiosity to feel the Doctor’s head. 
 Permission being granted, he thumped first upon the Doe: 
 tor’s head and then upon his own. Again he thumped 
 alternately upon each, and then stopped with a look of per- 
 plexity on his face. Suddenly, a light seeming to dawn upon 
 him, he exclaimed: “ Yes, your head zs hard, sure enough; 
 and so is mine—much harder, in fact, than yours! Now, 
 I know what it is that makes me want to do things with all 
 my might sometimes; it is my head!” 
 
 Finding that Livingstone was determined to go on in 
 spite of all persuasion, Sekomi finally sent with him two 
 of his men, to increase his escort, as he said, and to prove 
 his friendly interest in the missionary’s plans. But alas! 
 the wily Sekomi was far from regarding the expedition in 
 the friendly light he pretended, as it all soon came out. 
 Knowing Livingstone so well, Sekomi feared there might 
 be a chance after all for the party under his guidance to 
 get safely across the desert—which, by the way, was the 
 last thing Sekomi wanted it to do. Not that he was wicked 
 and cruel enough to desire that the Doctor’s life or that of 
 any one with him should pay the forfeit, but only that he 
 did not want them to reach the country about the lake. 
 The truth is, Sekomi had long been enjoying a sort of mo- 
 nopoly of the ivory business from that direction, and he 
 feared that if once Dr. Livingstone and his white compan- 
 ions reached the people there they would open their eyes to 
 
92 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 the real value of the ivory. So, discovering that he could 
 not stop them by fair means, he did not hesitate to use foul 
 means. The men sent along, apparently as friends, were in 
 reality enemies and mischief-makers, who had instructions 
 from Sekomi to stir up against Livingstone and his party 
 such of the various tribes through which they passed as 
 they could. The men began faithfully at the first oppor- 
 tunity to carry out Sekomi’s instructions, and there is no 
 telling what trouble might have befallen had not one of 
 them died very suddenly, and the other, looking upon it as 
 a judgement from that God to whom Livingstone constantly 
 prayed, fled back to his people in terror. 
 
 Sekomi’s traitorous conduct may seem unaccountable 
 when we recall the convictions he had shown under Liy- 
 ingstone’s teaching, and the pathetic petitions he had made 
 to have his “sick heart” cured. Doubtless the poor fellow 
 had been very much in earnest at that time, and perhaps 
 even now was trying to be honest in the new life he was 
 professing to lead. But the old nature would erop out 
 every now and then, and, like so many of us, he did not 
 make the right kind of an effort to keep it down. Hence we 
 must not judge his conduct too harshly, remembering that 
 he was but a savage and under the control of his leading 
 passion—avarice. 
 
 From Sekomi’s country the way lay principally along 
 the bed of an ancient water-course. The sand at the bot- 
 tom of the track was exceedingly white and beautiful, with 
 tall cliffs on either side covered with brilliant flowers and 
 graceful festoons of creeping plants and vines. The travy- 
 elers came next to broad, flat heaths, with rich earpetings 
 of grass and thick clusters of a shrub that bore a blossom 
 as delicate and fragrant as the lilac. Here and there, also, 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 93 
 
 the acacia bloomed, while high over all the magnificent 
 cucumber-tree reared aloft its wealth of snowy treasures— 
 a perfect revelation of delight. On the outskirts of the des- 
 ert, and even some distance into it, they came upon several 
 tribes of the Bushmen and a sort of outcast tribe of the 
 Bechuana known as the Baklahari. This latter tribe had 
 been driven from its home by some of the more powerful 
 and warlike divisions of its own people, who, doubtless act- 
 ing under instigation from the Boers, had endeavored to 
 capture the poor Baklahari and sell them as slaves. Though 
 they were exceedingly ignorant and superstitious, almost 
 leading the life of the wild beasts about them, Livingstone 
 found both the Bushmen and the Baklahari kind-hearted 
 and trusty. 
 
 The principal occupation of the Bushmen was hunting, 
 in which they were assisted by a breed of dogs but little 
 more miserable looking than themselves. 
 
 The Baklahari, having in their former home had some 
 knowledge of the tillage of the soil, followed it here to a 
 limited extent, raising melons, potatoes, and such tuberous 
 plants as the sandy and sterile earth would grow. They, 
 like the Bushmen, also engaged in hunting, but not to the 
 same extent. The skins of the animals thus obtained were 
 traded to the tribes farther east for tobacco, knives, pipes, 
 dogs, spears, and such things. The highest condition of 
 wealth known to these Bushmen was the possession of a 
 cow, or even of a small-sized heifer; and happy indeed was 
 he considered who could procure in the hunt skins sufficient 
 to give in exchange for one of these animals! One ques- 
 tion they were constantly putting to Livingstone was, “ How 
 many cows has your Queen?” On the answer to that de- 
 pended their estimation of her position and importance. 
 
94 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 The Bushmen were the very lowest class known to Afri- 
 can society, if that term may with any propriety be used 
 here. They were looked down upon by the more favored 
 tribes as occupying a position not one whit above that of 
 the dogs with which they hunted. 
 
 “No one seems to care for the poor Bushman’s soul,” 
 said Livingstone; “and yet,” he continues, “ what a won- 
 derful people they are! always merry and laughing, and 
 never telling lies wantonly like the Bechuanas. They 
 have, too, more of the appearance of worship than the Be- 
 chuanas.” 
 
 How Livingstone’s heart yearned over these poor outcast 
 people! and how he desired to remain among them long 
 enough to tell them of that loving Saviour in whose eyes 
 all the world is equal! But he had neither the time nor 
 the opportunity; besides, the language of these Bushmen 
 was so strange and difficult it would have taken a year or 
 more to comprehend it so as to make himself understood in 
 the great truths he had to teach. Moreover, their home 
 and their condition were such that he could not have 
 brought his family to live among them. Still he did not 
 altogether give them over. Many plans were formed for 
 their future benefit and enlightenment. God would surely 
 yet open up a way for some gleam of light to be brought tq 
 the poor Bushman’s darkened soul. 
 
 The Bushmen had always been residents of the desert 
 country: it gave them protection from the more powerful 
 and hostile tribes. The great scarcity of water and the 
 sparseness of vegetable life kept away all invaders; for 
 how hostile soever might be their intentions toward the 
 poor Bushmen, they usually thought too much of their own 
 lives to risk them in so inhospitable a region. Besides, the 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE 95 
 
 Bushman’s skill in using the bow and poisoned arrow was 
 well known and dreaded. 
 
 The Baklahari, in fleeing from their former home, had 
 settled upon the edges of the desert for very much the same 
 reasons as those that had prompted the Bushmen to choose 
 it as their first and only abiding-place. Being assured of 
 the peaceful intentions of the Baklahari, and doubtless hav- 
 ing for them a “fellow feeling that made them wondrous 
 kind,” the Bushmen had made friends with them from the 
 first, and they were now as one people. 
 
 The scarcity of water did not materially bother the Bak- 
 lahari or the Bushmen; indeed, they had ingeniously pro- 
 vided against this to a certain degree by obtaining a large 
 supply of water when they could, and hiding it in ostrich 
 eggsin the sand. Strange to say, the water kept fresher in 
 this manner than any other. But their real motive in thus 
 concealing it in the sand was to keep it safe in case of a 
 sudden invasion by any of their enemies. 
 
 Sometimes a great company of men, women, and children 
 of the Bushmen and Baklahari tribes would go on a long 
 journey to some road-side well or spring, where they would 
 secure enough of the precious fluid to last them until they 
 could make another similar excursion. 
 
 Livingstone had no trouble with either the Baklahari or 
 the Bushmen, although he scarce understood a word of the 
 language they spoke, especially of the latter. However, by 
 various signs, and by the help of one of the guides he had 
 with him, he managed to make his meaning for most of the 
 time clear to them. His manner of treating them was to 
 sit down quietly beside them and talk to them in a gentle 
 and friendly way, giving to the men presents of tobacco and 
 to the women beads or strins of gay-colored cloth. In 
 
96 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 this way ne often procured supplies of water and gained 
 other needed assistance from them which no threatening or 
 bullying could have forced them to give. Thus we see 
 that it paid to be kind even to “a dog of a Bushman,” as 
 they were called. They took to Livingstone at once, and 
 were constantly pressing him to partake of their hospitality. 
 Again and again they tried to urge upon him portions of their 
 scanty fare. Livingstone did not wish to wound their feel- 
 ings by a refusal, but as this fare generally consisted of the 
 uncooked carcass of a rat, a cat, or a jackal, we may well 
 believe that he declined it as gently, yet firmly, as he could. 
 The Bushmen were often seen by Livingstone and his par- 
 ty devouring with the greatest avidity the freshly killed 
 bodies of such doubtful animals as we have mentioned with- 
 out submitting them to the process of cooking. 
 
 After striking the desert, Livingstone and his friends 
 found the journey not only difficult, but laborious and dan- 
 gerous. Trials calculated to shake the stoutest nerves be- 
 set them on every side. The sand was not only heavy and 
 hot to wade through, but the sun beat down upon their 
 heads with such intensity that it seemed as if man and 
 beast must succumb. They soon gave up trying to travel 
 at all except in the early mornings and the first part of the 
 nights. Even with this precaution their sufferings were 
 great, for the supply of water ran low, and they had to go 
 whole days with not more than a spoonful to each man to 
 moisten his parched tongue. Once their water gave out 
 entirely, and they were three days without a drop. It 
 seemed then as if they must surely die But as hard as it 
 was for the men, it was worse for the poor animals, for they 
 had been without water much longer. Their tortures were 
 fearful to witness, their piteous moans and bellowings terri- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 97 
 
 ble to hear. Livingstone’s tender heart was stirred to its 
 depths, and if the others had listened to him the poor dumb, 
 suffering creatures would have been put out of their misery 
 onthespot. But had this been done, the men’s own chances 
 of getting out of the desert would have been very uncertain. 
 
 Late in the afternoon of the third day that they had been 
 without water, when even the guide had almost abandoned 
 hope of finding any, and every one of the little party felt 
 that death could not be far away, they suddenly came upon 
 a small mud-hole which a rhinoceros had made by rolling 
 himself in what was apparently moist earth. The poor 
 oxen rushed toward it frantically; they had to be beaten 
 off. The dogs sprung forward to lap it up; it was necessa- 
 ry to kick them nearly senseless before they could be got- 
 ten away. Such scenes were especially harrowing to Liv- 
 ingstone, and he turned away from them sick at heart. 
 Still he knew that these measures were often necessary in 
 the preservation of more valuable life. That mud-hole ap- 
 parently contained all the water within reach for eight oxen, 
 ten dogs, twenty horses, and twenty-five men—only appar- 
 ently, though, for the guide recognized the surrounding indi- 
 eations as favorable, and declared that there was plenty of 
 water at hand. This assertion proved to be correct, as more 
 water was presently found—not affording each man and 
 beast the quantity needed, but enough to greatly appease 
 their raging thirst. 
 
 Once the travelers were in such straits that only enough 
 water could be procured for the men and horses, the poor 
 oxen having to be sent back a four-days’ journey in order 
 to quench their thirst. Several days after this the party 
 were again without water. For two days not a drop had 
 passed the lips of one of the men, while the beasts went 
 
 7 
 
98 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 twice as long with unslaked thirst. The poor creatures were 
 lowing piteously; their steps lagged, their tongues lolled 
 from their mouths, and it was difficult to urge them on- 
 ward. Three of the men who had been sent forward to 
 discover water at length returned with the joyful ery of 
 “ Metse! Metse!”—‘ Water! Water!” In proof of the 
 good news, they exhibited the mud-stains on their hands 
 and knees. Even the oxen seemed to understand the magic 
 word, and to catch the joyful excitement of the moment: 
 there was no further need to urge them forward—they went 
 gladly of their own accord, nearly upsetting the lumbering 
 old cart in their wild haste, and dragging the driver along 
 with them. A large pool of rain-water had been found, 
 and hedging it in, as if to give it a cooler and more de 
 ‘lightful appearance, were all sorts of lush and rank-grow- 
 ing grasses. No wonder the famished oxen rushed toward 
 it with frantic delight! Livingstone thus speaks of the in- 
 cident: “It does one’s heart good to see the thirsty oxen 
 rush into a pool of delicious rain-water, as this was. In 
 they dash until the water is deep enough to be nearly level 
 with their throats; and there they stand, drawing slowly 
 
 in the long 
 
 g, refreshing mouthfuls until their formerly col- 
 
 lapsed sides distend as if they would burst. So much do 
 they imbibe that a sudden jerk, when they come out on the 
 bank, makes some of the water run out of their mouths; 
 but as they have been days without food too, they very 
 soun commence to graze, and of grass there was the great- 
 est abundance all around.” 
 
 The little company pushed bravely on. Though they 
 suffered much from the scarcity of water, there was no act- 
 ual want of food. Sometimes, it is true, the supply ran 
 low; sometimes it was not of the most palatable quality; 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 99 
 
 but the men had their guns with them, and occasionally 
 brought down an antelope or two, with now and then a 
 gnu or a giraffe, which proved most acceptable. There 
 were also many edible plants, which served to appease 
 hunger until something more substantial could be found 
 Among them were the leroshua, or scarlet cucumber; the 
 mokuri, a bulbous plant somewhat in the shape of a pota- 
 to; and the water-melon. The leroshua and the mokuri in- 
 terested Livingstone very much. The former was a rather 
 small plant, with long, narrow leaves, and a stalk about as 
 thick as the stem of a common tobacco-pipe. This plant 
 sprung from a root, the greater part of it being above 
 ground, and in shape not unlike a cucumber, from which 
 resemblance it took its name. The root was about six or 
 seven inches in diameter, and varied in length from ten 
 and twelve to sixteen and eighteen inches. It was covered 
 with a rind-like substance, which on being removed dis- 
 played a “mass of cellular tissue filled with a fluid much 
 like that of a young turnip.” It also resembled the turnip 
 in flavor, though not so juicy or so tender. The mokuri 
 was a creeping plant, to which was attached a number of 
 roots, some of them as large as a man’s head. It had a fla- 
 vor something like that of a sweet potato, though flatter, 
 and a little bitter. It was not altogether unpalatable. The 
 water-melon was often found in considerable quantities, espe- 
 cially where the earth was inclined to moisture: though not 
 so large or so sweet as the cultivated melon, it was highly 
 refreshing to the thirst-tortured travelers. 
 
 On one occasion, while passing over a sandy tract skirted 
 by stunted trees of the acacia variety, Livingstone’s curtos- 
 ity was aroused by seeing several of his men squatted down 
 in different directions, and all industriously digging in the 
 
100) LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 sand. Inquiring into the matter, he learned that they were 
 hunting for a large caterpillar whose habit it was to bury 
 itself in the sand near these trees, and in the leaves of which 
 it found its food. The men already had a number of these 
 furry creatures, which they afterward roasted and ate with 
 great relish as an extra delicacy. ‘They regarded it as a 
 lack of taste in Livingstone and his white friends that 
 caused them to forego the caterpillars. 
 
 Late ome afternoon, when the travelers had been about 
 three weeks on the way, as they were journeying over one 
 of the sandiest and most trying parts of the whole course, 
 and men and animals alike were tortured with the heat and 
 nearly dead with thirst, Mr. Oswell who was some distance 
 in advance, suddenly threw up his hat and gaye a loud 
 shout. Again and again he repeated it, accompanying it 
 with such wild gesticulations as made the natives who were 
 the nearer to him think he was going mad, and rush to 
 Livingstone for protection. Livingstone himself looked 
 with some amazement upon his friend’s extraordinary be- 
 havior. Directly Mr. Oswell began erying at the top of 
 his voice: “The lake! the lake! Come and see!” Rush- 
 ing to the eminence he occupied, they all beheld what did 
 seem a most magnificent lake stretching away for miles. 
 The picture was perfect. In the soft rays of the setting 
 sun the water seemed to catch and retain myriads of bright 
 sparkles, which were in turn reflected in every direction. 
 Even the natives and the dogs were deceived, and rushed 
 forward to leap into the water. That it was but a decep- 
 tion, and not a lake, was soon discovered, greatly to the 
 chagrin of the whole party, with the exception of Living- 
 stone and the guides, who knew that the lake could not be 
 sonear. What they had seen proved to be a mirage, caused 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTON 5 ee 
 
 hy the sun’s rays shining upon a vast salt-lick covered with 
 incrustations of lime. The lake was nearly three hundred 
 miles away. A little farther on they found some water, 
 and, greatly refreshed, continued their journey iill some 
 hours in the night. The explorers were often deceived by 
 these mirages—even Livingstone and the guides occasion- 
 ally, though they never once supposed them to be the lake, 
 but only pools of water. 
 
 Near the close of the afternoon of July 4th they came to 
 the banks of a veritable river. Their shouts of joy drew 
 around them crowds of natives, who stared at them curi- 
 ously, and not without alarm, for they thought them mad, 
 as the natives of the party had previously thought of Mr. 
 Oswell. They were finally reassured, however, and proved 
 to be very friendly, assisting the travelers in every way 
 they could by offering information and supplies. This riv- 
 er was the Zouga, a deep and beautiful stream with a plac- 
 id yet swiftly moving current. The natives told Living- 
 stone, what he had previously suspected, that the Zouga 
 flowed into Lake Ngami, and all they would have to do 
 in order to reach the lake was to follow the course of the 
 river. 
 
 The journey along the banks of the Zouga was delightful. 
 At almost every step the travelers came upon a sight both 
 novel and wonderful. As to the river itself, it may per- 
 haps best be described in Livingstone’s own enthusiastic 
 words: “Jt was glorious! I never saw any thing more 
 grand. It reminded me somewhat of my own lovely Clyde, 
 though many times mofe beautiful, I must confess.” Al] 
 along the low, ievel banks grew tall, magnificent trees, 
 many of them covered with fruits of various kinds. The 
 trunks of some of these gigantic monarchs measured from 
 
SOME INHABITANTS OF THE ZOUGA JUNGLES. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 105 
 
 sixty and sixty-five to seventy feet in circumference. On 
 one of them Livingstone found growing a fruit over a foot 
 in length and from three to four inches in diameter. In 
 shape it was not unlike the banana, though it had a more 
 vivid coloring. Another group of trees presented the com- 
 pact appearance of a mass of granite, and were identical 
 with granite in their hue. 
 
 Everywhere grew beautiful wild flowers and lush sweet 
 grasses. The birds sung in the boughs and the butterflies 
 flew hither and thither sipping sweets. Away up among 
 the tallest branches of the trees monkeys sat and chattered 
 to each other, or mischievously threw nuts at the saucy 
 parrots, who screamed back at them, and shook their brill- 
 iant plumage defiantly. Altogether it was a picture to 
 ravish the eye, and to delight the heart, making it feel how 
 good is God and how beautiful the world he has made. To 
 the sun-scorched and weary travelers, just from their toil- 
 some march across the desert, it was indeed as a glimpse of 
 paradise. 
 
 After traveling two or three days they came upon another 
 large, fine stream that flowed into the river Zouga from the 
 north. Livingstone inquired of the natives whence it came, 
 and he was told, “ O from a country full of rivers! so many, 
 in fact, no one can tell their number, and full of large trees.” 
 It was then that Livingstone received the first strong con- 
 firmation of his belief that Central Africa was far from be- 
 ing the sandy and barren plateau it had hitherto been rep- 
 resented, even by the geographers. As firm as was this 
 belief, still firmer was the decision formed with the coming 
 of this convincing testimony in regard to the “ country of 
 rivers ”—a decision that governed and directed Living- 
 stone’s future course. He would find out iust what kind 
 
104 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 of a country Central Africa was. If such as the natives 
 represented it, and as he had himself believed, a land “ flow- 
 ing with rivers,” then what a glorious prospect for opening 
 up, across the very heart of the continent, a grand highway 
 of commerce and travel! No further need then for it to be 
 a land unvisited, dreaded, and unknown! No longer any 
 necessity for its inhabitants to remain shut out from the 
 light and knowledge of civilized life! When routes of 
 travel were opened up, difficulties made less difficult and 
 dangers less dangerous, others besides himself would come 
 —come with the pure intention to instruct and to ben- 
 efit. O what a glorious day for this heathen land, when 
 its people should both know and be known! This dream 
 so impressed Livingstone that even after he came to the 
 magnificent lake, for a sight of which he had braved the 
 terrors of the desert, it failed to awaken in him any thing 
 like the emotions he had anticipated. 
 
 They reached Lake Ngami on the Ist of August, just 
 two months from the time of beginning the journey. The 
 lake was all that it had been represented, and more. As 
 they looked upon its beautiful expanse of waters they could 
 detect no horizon, so they concluded that it must be many 
 miles across. It afterward proved to be fully a hundred 
 miles in circumference and some twenty to twenty-five miles 
 in width. It was about two thousand feet above the Jevel 
 of the sea, from which it was distant some eight hundred 
 miles. The only objection that Livingstone had to it was 
 _ that it seemed to be too shallow in many parts for naviga- 
 ble purposes. However, it was a grand sheet of water, and 
 it was something to have discovered it, and with Messrs. 
 Oswell and Murray to have been the first white men doubt- 
 less that ever gazed upon it. 
 
7?" 
 
 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 105 
 
 On their way back home they had more time and more 
 inclination to make observations of the country along the 
 banks of the Zouga. Going up, their minds had been too 
 much filled with thoughts of the wonderful lake, and with 
 impatience to reach it, to make a long stop anywhere else. 
 But now they journeyed more leisurely, and often lingered 
 for days at a time to mingle with the natives. The people 
 took a great fancy to Livingstone, and tried to yet him to 
 stay with them altogether. They feasted the party on every 
 good thing they could set before them. At these entertain- 
 ments they had a way of forming a circle and dancing 
 around with loud songs in praise of the river Zouga, which 
 they theught the noblest and grandest river in the world. 
 They told Livingstone that those who came to look upon 
 
 the Zouga never cared to go back again. Even the “ mes- 
 
 senger sent in haste” often became a permanent sojourner. 
 
 Livingstone preached in several places as he went along, 
 and the people came in crowds to hear him. Doubtless 
 many precious seed were thus left to spring up by the way- 
 side. He says of the Bakoba, one of the tribes along the 
 Zouga, aud among whom he remained a week or more 
 preaching and teaching: “The Bakoba are a fine, frank 
 race of men, and seem to understand the message better 
 than any people to whom I have spoken on divine subjects 
 for the first time.” He greatly enjoyed riding on the river 
 in the canoes of the Bakoba, which were quite ingeniously 
 contrived out of the trunks of single trees, nicely finished 
 and gracefully shaped. He enjoyed the fishing, too, with 
 all the relish of a boy on his first holiday in the country. 
 When his friends, Messrs. Oswell and Murray, once tried 
 to joke him about his enthusiasm, he exclaimed, with a 
 twinkle of humor: “O you must remember that I have 
 
106 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. . 
 
 been long in a parched-up land!” Some of the fish caught 
 in the Zouga weighed nearly a hundred pounds, many of 
 them as much as fifty and sixty. It often took eight or ten 
 men to haul in one of these larger ones. 
 
 Livingstone was much struck by the great fecundity of 
 animal life everywhere visible in this wonderful region. 
 The river fairly teemed with fish. They could be seen at 
 any time leaping in the water. They even approached the 
 banks in great shoals. Elephants, zebras, giraffes, water- 
 bucks, hippopotami, and many other large, fine animals 
 were also found in such abundance that it was no trouble 
 to kill several of them on every hunt. The soil was highly 
 productive, yielding all kinds of vegetables and fruits with 
 but little cultivation, often without any at all. Along the 
 shores of the river Livingstone found wild indigo growing | 
 in great quantities. The natives raised two kinds of cotton, 
 which they made into cloth for garments of various deserip- 
 tions, dyeing it with the indigo and with a bark that gave 
 it a tinge of yellow, as copperas would have done. Alto- 
 gether it was a magnificent and wonderful country; and 
 the more Livingstone saw of it the more he became enam- 
 ored with it, and the brighter grew his dream in regard 
 to it. 
 
 After safely passing through the desert on their return, 
 the party reached Kolobeng in the autumn of 1849, having 
 been absent a little more than five months in all. 
 
CHAPTER , VIM 
 
 HOW THE NEWS OF THE DISCOVERY OF THE NGAMI AND ZOUGA 
 4 WAS RECEIVED IN ENGLAND—THE ENDEAVOR TO REACH THE 
 GREAT CHIEF, SEBITUANE—SECOND ATTEMPT—MRS. LIVING- 
 STONE AND HER CHILDREN OF THE PARTY—FAILURE OF THE 
 UNDERTAKING—RETURN TO KOLOBENG—DASTARDLY RAID OF 
 THE BOERS—THIRD AND SUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT TO REACH SE- 
 BITUANE—INCIDENTS BY THE WAY—SEBITUANE’S DEATH. 
 
 HE news of the discovery of the lake, the river, and 
 
 the wonderful country adjacent was at once commu- 
 
 nicated by Livingstone to the Royal Geographical Society 
 
 of London, All England was surprised and delighted: 
 
 the name of Livingstone was now on every tongue. Even 
 
 the Queen expressed her gratification, and awarded the ex- 
 plorer twenty-five guineas. 
 
 Tn the spring of 1850 Livingstone determined to under- 
 take another journey into the lake country, for the purpose 
 of making further geographical explorations, and to engage 
 in such mission work as he could. He had for some time 
 thought of removing from Kolobeng to a field of labor far 
 ther north. He knew that he could not always remain 
 among the Bakwains, since that would not be just to the 
 other darkened minds awaiting the coming of the light. 
 Besides, the station at Kolobeng was getting along so well 
 under the care of Sechele and the native teachers he felt 
 that he might safely leave it, for a year or two at least. 
 
 Previous to his first journey to Lake Ngami, Livingstone 
 had purposed trying to reach the country of Sebituane, be- 
 
 (107) 
 
108 - LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTON 
 
 tween whom and Sechele there was the most cordial rela: 
 tions. Sebituane was a mighty chief, with a large follow- 
 _ing that made him both admired and feared throughout a 
 vast extent of territory. Thus Livingstone felt that if he 
 could secure Sebituane for a friend and ally, it would be 
 productive of great good in his missionary labors and of 
 much assistance in pushing his geographical researches 
 through the country. As it was, he had fixed upon Sebit- 
 uane’s head village as the point at which to plant his next 
 mission station; and he was therefore much disappointed 
 when the treachery of Lechulatebe prevented him from 
 reaching the great chief on his first visit to the lake region. 
 Lechulatebe will be remembered as the chief of the Ba- 
 taudna, and as the one who had sent messengers to Living: 
 stone previous to his leaving Kolobeng, with the request that 
 he would visit his domain. From the extreme cordiality and 
 insistence of the message, the travelers expected handsome 
 treatment at Lechulatebe’s hands. But it seems that he was 
 ashrewd and covetous negro, whose real design was to secure 
 some of the presents he had heard Livingstone was in the 
 habit of bestowing upon the chiefs of the different tribes 
 through which he passed. When he found out that Livy- 
 ingstone wanted to take up his residence with Sebituane for 
 awhile, he stoutly opposed it, for several reasons. Chief of 
 these was that Sebituane was an enemy of his, and much 
 hated on account of his great power and popularity. Lechu- 
 latebe therefore had no idea of letting Livingstone reach 
 Sebituane, and perhaps furnish him with fire-arms, show 
 him their use, and teach him the many tricks of battle 
 which the white.men knew. In that event, Sebituane 
 would become a more formidable enemy than ever. So he 
 not only refused to let Livingstone have guides and boats, 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 109 
 
 but sent men to guard the river to prevent tie missionary 
 and_ his party from crossing, in case they attempted to go 
 upon their own responsibility. 
 
 Not to be outdone, and with his usual courage and bold- 
 ness, Livingstone began the construction of a boat or raft 
 out of the great quautities of rotten wood floating in the 
 river. This he did at the imminent risk of his life, for he 
 soon afterward found out that the Zouga was infested with 
 alligators. However, the wood proved to be so rotten, and 
 the other difficulties so insurmountable, that he abandoned 
 his present intention of pushing on to Sebituane; but that 
 he had not abandoned the purpose altogether the sequel will 
 show. 
 
 Thus it came about that, on making his arrangements for 
 this second journey into the lake country, Livingstone’s de- 
 termination to reach Sebituane was fixed, and he made up 
 his mind that he would succeed if it lay within human 
 power. On this second trip he was accompanied by his wife 
 and children—the latter now three in number—Sechele, 
 and twenty of his most faithful Bakwains. The party left 
 Kolobeng in April, 1850. It was with many misgivings 
 that Livingstone saw his delicate wife and tender little 
 ones start out on this long and fearful journey across the 
 desert; but he could not bear the idea of leaving them be- 
 hind, especially as he did not know when he would return 
 to Kolobeng. So, commending them to the keeping of that 
 great and loving Father who takes note of the tiniest bird’s 
 flight, Livingstone bravely set forth. 
 
 The difficulties in the way on the second journey were 
 many and great. Again and again Livingstone felt that 
 he would be obliged to retrace his steps to Kolobeng. Hear- 
 ing various reports of the deadly ravages of the tsetse fly, 
 
110 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 whose bite is so fatal to oxen, the party had to choose a 
 route quite different from the one gone over the preceding 
 year; consequently, they often lost their way, and were in 
 great straits besides. The sufferings of Mrs. Livingstone 
 and the children were intense, and Livingstone felt that 
 he could not bear to witness them. When they struck the 
 banks of the Zouga, it was at a point where the trees were 
 so thick that the men had to cut down.aumbers of them to 
 let tie wagons pass through. The journey at this stage was 
 therefore both slow and laborious. But at last the shores 
 of the lake were reached. The intense delight with which 
 his children hailed the sight of this wonderful sheet of wa- 
 ter deeply touched Livingstone. Tears came to his eyes as 
 he heard their shouts of childish joy. When he took them 
 upon the lake in a boat, their spirits nearly ran away with 
 them. They could scarcely get enough of it. “ They took 
 to playing in it as naturally as ducklings,” he wrote, “ while 
 as to the paddling, it was the greatest fun they had ever 
 known.” And no wonder, poor little things! This was 
 the first body of water of any consequence they had ever 
 seen. 
 
 At the lake were found a party of Englishmen who had 
 been stricken with fever. One of them had already died, 
 and doubtless others would have died but for the timely 
 ministrations of Dr. Livingstone and his gentle wife. Just 
 as the fever had considerably abated among them, and Livy- 
 ingstone, with Sechele’s aid, was preparing to enter the 
 country of Sebituane, two of his children were stricken 
 with the dread malady, and for days lay at the point of 
 death. Finding that the whole lake region was exposed to 
 the scourge, Livingstone decided to return to Kolobeng, 
 there to remain until the country should be entirely free 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 111 
 
 from the fever. This he did as soon as the children were 
 able to stand the fatigue of travel. 
 
 While staying at the lake Livingstone’s friend and fe)- 
 iow-traveler of the year before, Mr. Oswell, had appeared 
 among them. ‘They were rejoiced to see each other again. 
 Oswell had remained at the Jake to hunt elephants. His 
 courage in hunting them without dogs excited the wonder 
 and admiration of the natives. But high as was their opin- 
 ion of Oswell’s bravery, it was even higher in regard to 
 Livingstone’s. They believed him to be the coolest and 
 most courageous man they had ever seen. They often said 
 to him: “‘If you were not a missionary, you would be just 
 like Oswell. You would not hunt with dogs either, and 
 you would bring down just as many elephants as he, if not 
 more; neither would you be afraid of any thing.” 
 
 On Livingstone’s return from the lake he found bad news 
 awaiting him. During his absence the Boers had made good 
 their long-standing threats against Sechele, and entering his 
 village had killed « number of his people, and carried away 
 two hundred children into captivity. They had also plun- 
 dered the chief’s and Livingstone’s houses, cutting up the 
 latter’s few articles of wooden furniture, smashing his stone- 
 ware, and tearing his clothes and those of his wife and echil- 
 dren into shreds. But worst of all, they had so mutilated 
 his books and manuscripts as to render them utterly 
 worthless. All the literary work of three years, includ- 
 ing his journals, was thus ruthlessly destroyed. This was 
 a severe blow to Livingstone; but when he heard the poor 
 women weeping over their dead and bewailing the chil- 
 dren carried into captivity, he thought how much worse it 
 might have been for him, and thanked God that he had 
 escaped so lightly. 
 
112 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 In the early part of April, 1851, Livingstone started on 
 his third, last, and only successful expedition to meet Sebit- 
 uane. On this journey he was accompanied by his family 
 and his old friend, Mr. Oswell. Livingstone often speaks 
 with touching gratitude of the generosity and kindness 
 shown by this fellow-countryman of his. A number of 
 Bushmen, employed by Mr. Oswell specially for the pur- 
 pose, attended them as an advance guard. Their duty 
 was to go ahead of the party, clearing dense places and 
 smoothing rough ones as much as possible, but principally 
 to dig wells and search out pasturage for the cattle. In 
 this way the dreary passage of the desert was greatly alle- 
 viated. 
 
 Many of the great plains on the route were covered with 
 stretches of grass, though often not having one stunted tree. 
 In these places ostriches were seen in large numbers. Be- 
 ing very shy, they would of course run off at first sight of 
 our travelers. It was therefore extremely difficult to get a 
 close view of them, while a shot at one was well-nigh im- 
 possible. The moment the travelers showed themselves the 
 ostrich would flee, and all the game-in the neighborhood 
 would take the alarm and run with him. The Bushmen, 
 however, had an ingenious way of getting ahead of the bird 
 that was amusing to the concealed lookers-on. It interested 
 Livingstone very much, and his children were perfectly car- 
 ried away watching the strange maneuvers. Whitening his 
 legs with a preparation taken along for that purpose, and 
 fastening across his shoulders a feathered saddle made of 
 the plumage of the birds, the Bushman would start off, car- 
 rying the stuffed head of an ostrich in one hand and his 
 bow and poisoned arrows in the other. Thus equipped, he 
 presented a striking likeness to the great, stalking bird he 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 113 
 
 was ready to beguile. Cautiously moving along, the “ hu- 
 man bird” would make a feint of picking away at the grass, 
 just as the real ostrich was doing. Then he would turn his 
 head to one side, to gain a better idea of the position of the 
 real bird. Next he would shake out his saddle of feathers, 
 with a movement that ought surely to have put the genuine 
 ostrich to the blush—it was so perfect an imitation. Then, 
 circling around slowly for a few moments, he would sud- 
 denly start into a brisk walk, which gradually grew faster 
 until he struck off at the ostrich’s well-known long, swing- 
 ing trot. In this manner the wily hunter soon brought 
 himself within shooting distance of the unsuspecting bird; 
 and before the latter could discover the fraud, or realize 
 his danger, whizz! would go the arrow, and the next in- 
 stant he would be in his death-throes! 
 
 Sometimes the male ostrich, which is of a more wary and 
 suspicious nature than the female, would turn and give 
 chase to this strange-looking bird; and the situation would 
 become extremely dangerous for the hunter, unless he kept 
 his wits about him. If he wished to kill the bird, his one 
 object when pursued by him was to keep him from catching 
 the scent; failing in this, the fraud would be exposed. On 
 the other hand, if he wished to preserve his own life when 
 the bird came uncomfortably near, his only safeguard was 
 either to “get to windward,” as the hunters say, and let 
 the bird catch the scent, or throw off the saddle of feathers 
 and stand revealed in his proper form. But occasionally 
 his great anxiety to bring down the valuable bird would 
 lead him to neglect the precautions until too late, when a 
 stroke from the powerful wing would almost ‘instantly de- 
 prive him of life. 
 
 That the Bushmen, in spite of the many drawbacks and 
 
 8 
 
_— 
 ated 
 
 Sn 
 
 aH 
 
 ay LO 
 
 is 
 
 THE WILY BIRD IN HIS NATIVE BUSH. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 115 
 
 the patience and perseverance necessary, were very Success 
 ful in their slaughter of the ostriches, Livingstone had seen 
 the evidence in the great quantities of feathers sold to pass- 
 ing traders. As the ostriches have only a few feathers on 
 the wings and tail, he knew it took a large number of the 
 birds to produce the plumes the Bushmen annually col- 
 lected. Our travelers found the Bushmen of the utmost 
 service in the journey across the desert. Indeed, it is ques- 
 tionable if they would have survived the perils, depriva- 
 tions, and sufferings that beset them, had it not been for 
 their trusty advance guard, who, among other things, could 
 discover water when for miles about them seemed to stretch 
 a burning and sandy waste. Yet, with all the precautions 
 which the generous and manly Oswell had taken, a calami- 
 ty that nearly proved fatal to all befell the party when 
 they were about two-thirds of the distance across the Kal- 
 ahari. In some way Shobo, their guide, got them widely 
 separated from their Bushmen guard. They found them- 
 selves in one of the driest and most desolate parts of the 
 desert. For miles and miles there was not a particle of 
 verdure, not even a scragey clump of the hardy karoo 
 bush; no sign of life anywhere; no sound, not so much as 
 the lonesome ery of a jackal, or the forbidding hiss of a 
 serpent. What meager tufts of grass they chanced upon 
 erumbled to powder in their hands, so well had the scorch- 
 ing heat done its work. The burning sun seemed to be 
 licking up the blood from their veins, and to their eyes the 
 glare was well-nigh unendurable. Men and animals suf- 
 fered not only from the heat, but from thirst; for the sup- 
 ply of water had given out—there was not a drop even to 
 moisten the tongues of the little children, who lay in the 
 bottom of the wagon, either begging piteously for water or 
 
116 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 too weak to do more than lie and gasp, with their black- 
 ened tongues protruding from their mouths. 
 
 It surely was most distressing to the strong husband and 
 father to see his delicate wife and babies undergoing such 
 horrible suffering. His own throat was parched and burn- 
 ing, his own tongue swollen and blackened; but with prayer 
 after prayer to God for succor, he toiled on beside the wagon. 
 The poor beasts, whose piteous bellowings added to the hor- 
 rors and distress of the scene, staggered from side to side as 
 though they would fall to the ground. For four days they 
 were absolutely without water. Livingstone says of this 
 dreadful time: “The thought of our children perishing be- 
 fore our eyes was terrible; it would almost have been a re- 
 lief to have been reproached with being the entire cause of 
 the catastrophe, but not one syllable of upbraiding was ut- 
 tered by their mother, though the tearful eye told the agony 
 within.” 
 
 ‘Happily, on the morning of the fifth day the Bushmen 
 found them; and as they brought a supply of the precious 
 fluid for the want of which life had come so near being for- 
 feited, the greater sufferings of the wanderers were allayed. 
 
 Finally, after enduring much additional fatigue, and en- 
 countering many more hardships—though none so dreadful 
 as that awful time when they had gone four days without 
 water—they came to the banks of the Mahabe, a river that 
 flows into the Tamunakle. As by following the banks of 
 the latter stream they hoped to reach Sebituane’s domains, 
 it was with joy that they came upon the Mahabe, knowing 
 that its junction with the Tamunakle could not be very far 
 away. But before reaching the banks of the Mahabe they 
 had made the acquaintance of a visitor whose presence 
 would in time have a fatal effect. This was the much- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. ly 
 
 heard-of and long-dreaded tsetse fly, whose bite is so de- 
 structive to the life of horse, oxen, and dog. Upon man 
 and the wild animals, strange to say, it has no effect; in 
 fact, it never even offers to molest them. The tsetse is not 
 much larger than the common house-fly, though somewhat 
 different in shape, and considerably so in color. It resem- 
 bles the honey-bee, having the same deep-brown coat, with 
 yellow bars across the under part of the body. Its peculiar 
 buzz, very much like that of the bumble-bee, is never for- 
 gotten by the traveler who once hears it. 
 
 Livingstone did not at first think that his oxen were 
 much injured, as he could see no signs of the evil effects of 
 the tsetse bites: he had yet to learn, through dear experi- 
 ence, that these effects come on gradually, rendering it all 
 the more terrible to the poor brutes who have the deadly 
 poison in their veins. It is several days after the animal 
 is bitten before it shows the first symptoms, which consist of 
 a watery gleam about the eye and an unpleasant discharge 
 from the nose. Then is noticed a constant shivering sen- 
 sation, or a nervous drawing together of the coat at regular 
 intervals, principally along the backbone, as though the 
 animal was suffering from cold. A swelling next appears 
 under the jaws; and although the ox, or horse, can go on 
 grazing as usual, he grows poorer and poorer, as if he did 
 not receive any nourishment whatever from the food swal- 
 lowed. Finally, he becomes so emaciated and weak that he 
 dies from sheer exhaustion. It is generally a month from 
 the time the animal is bitten until death ensues. 
 
 Reaching the banks of the Chobe River, which borders 
 upon Sebituane’s domains, our travelers received the pleas- 
 ing intelligence that Sebituane, hearing of their proposed 
 visit, was coming to meet them. He had already traveled 
 
118 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 over a hundred miles from his capital city to do honor to 
 the brave missionary of whose noble labors among the dif- 
 ferent tribes he had heard so much. When the news of his 
 approach became known, he was but twenty miles away, 
 at the village of Manuku, and anxiously awaiting their 
 arrival, 
 
 In a little while the meeting with Sebituane took place. 
 His greeting was all that they could have wished it, and he 
 himself all that they had expected, and much more. A\I- 
 most his first words to them showed the great, warm heart 
 beating under the leopard-skin cloak. Noticing the condi- 
 tion of Livingstone’s cattle, he exclaimed: “Too bad! Too 
 bad! Your cattle are all bitten by the tsetse, and will sure- 
 ly die! They are nearly dead now, poor things! But 
 never mind; I have plenty of oxen, and will give you all 
 you need.” 
 
 Sebituane was unquestionably a great chief—“the best 
 specimen of native manhood I ever met,” said Livingstone 
 in speaking of him afterward. All the way they had heard 
 Sebituane’s praises sounded. Even his enemies had given 
 expression to their admiration for his wonderful powers; 
 but the highest testimony came from those he had befriended. 
 “He is invincible; he is never conquered in battle,” said 
 those against whom he had fought. “ He is good; he has 
 a heart,” gratefully declared those to whom his bounty had 
 been extended. 
 
 In person the great chief was tall and wiry, with a 
 well-shaped head for one of his race; a kindly, pleasant ex- 
 pression; and fine, intelligent eyes. His bearing was frank 
 and manly—quite unusual in a savage. 
 
 Sebituane had not been born a chief. Te was originally 
 from the country around Kuruman, where his many excel- 
 
 a 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 119 
 
 lent traits had won for him a following of stanch admir- 
 ers. Having some trouble with his people on account of 
 his independent ways, he had left his tribe, and with a 
 few sturdy adherents had boldly cut his way through the 
 entire Bechuana country. As he went along so many at- 
 tached themselves to him that by the time he had entered 
 the territory on the other side of the Kalahari he had twice 
 the number of his own tribe. A desperate struggle ensued 
 between him and Mosilikatse, a renowned Matebele chief, 
 for the possession of all that magnificent stretch of country 
 lying between the Zouga and the Zambesi. In the end Se- 
 bituane was triumphant, which was the means of secur- 
 ing to him a stronger following than ever. He was now 
 deemed the greatest chief in all that section, dreaded even 
 by the terrible Mosilikatse, the oppressor of the Bechu- 
 anas. 
 
 It would seem impossible to believe that a warlike chief 
 such as Sebituane could have so warm a heart, so benevo- 
 lent a nature; yet so it was. When he went into battle he 
 was but following out the impulses of his savage nature 
 and obeying the mandates of his savage training—since 
 through that nature and that training he had been taught 
 to look upon courage and success in war as the highest 
 marks of distinction, the most admirable attributes of un- 
 civilized royalty. He saw no cruelty, no barbarity in such 
 a course—only praise and renown; for he had not been en- 
 lightened as to the gentler and more peaceful teachings of 
 civilized humanity, or the higher and nobler aims of Chris- 
 tianity. What he might have been under more favorable 
 opportunities was shown by the manly traits underlying his 
 whole character. He was gentle and generous, benevolent 
 to the poor, and honest even in his dealings with enemies. 
 
1¥0 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 His hospitality and genuine kindness of heart were proverb- 
 ial throughout the whole river country. Says Livingstone: 
 “ He was adored by all with whom he came in contact.” 
 The poor of the different tribes were constantly coming to 
 him for assistance. Not once was such an applicant turned 
 away. ‘When a party of poor men came to his town to 
 sell their hoes or hides,’ Livingstone further adds, “no 
 matter how ungainly they might be, he soon knew them all. 
 A company of these indigent strangers, sitting far apart 
 from the Makololo around the chief, would be surprised to 
 see him come alone to them, and, sitting down, inquire if 
 they were hungry. On receiving an affirmative reply, he 
 would order an attendant to bring meal, milk, and honey; 
 and mixing-these in their sight, in order to remove any sus- 
 picions from their minds, he would make them feast upon a 
 lordly dish perhaps for the first time in their lives. De- 
 lighted beyond measure with his affability and liberality, 
 they felt their hearts warm toward him, and gave him all the 
 information in their power. As he never allowed a party 
 of strangers, servants included, to go away without giving 
 them a present, his praises were sounded far and wide.” 
 
 Sebituane was delighted at the confidence which Living- 
 stone had shown by bringing his wife and children. He at 
 once promised him a permanent settlement in his domains, 
 authority to go anywhere he pleased, and an escort for all 
 expeditions he cared to make. 
 
 It had been the greatest dream of Sebituane’s life to be 
 on intimate and friendly terms with the white men. Un- 
 like the majority of his savage brethren, he had the highest 
 opinion of the superior condition and abilities of the white 
 race, especially of the English. No wonder, then, that he 
 hailed Livingstone’s coming among his people with such 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 121 
 
 hearty pleasure, for it gave to his dream a brighter and a 
 more beautiful radiance—the radiance of reality. Living- 
 stone, too, looked upon this meeting with Sebituane as the 
 dawning of a new and auspicious era, both as regarded his 
 missionary labors and his geographical researches. With 
 Sebituane’s powerful protection ever about him, he would 
 be enabled to command a wider and more inviting extent 
 of territory than any he had yet known. But alas! it was 
 not to be. In less than two weeks after their meeting the 
 great chief was stricken down with inflammation of the 
 lungs, from which he died in a few days. He lived just long 
 enough to hear Livingstone preach one sermon, the Sunday 
 after his arrival in the country. This was the only procla- 
 mation of “glad tidings” poor Sebituane ever heard. On 
 the Sunday afternoon that he died, Livingstone went to see 
 him, carrying his little son Robert. ‘Come near,” said 
 Sebituane as soon as he recognized Livingstone, “and see 
 if I am any longer a man. No, I am not. I feel that I 
 am not. Iam undone! Alas! is me; I can no longer even 
 move myself as I might wish.” He seemed fully sensible 
 of his dangerous condition, and realized that death might 
 come at any moment; but he was calm and brave through 
 it all. 
 
 Taking the hand of the dying chief in his, Livingstone 
 knelt by the couch of skins, and endeavored to speak com- 
 forting words—to tell him of the hope there is after death 
 for all who trust. But the pall of darkness that had so 
 long covered poor Sebituane’s soul was too heavy to be 
 lifted ina moment. It would have taken months perhaps 
 for him even to have begun to see clearly, and now there 
 were but a few hours. One of the native doctors, who was 
 standing near, catching the word “death,” turned upon 
 
122 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Livingstone, demanding: “ Why do you speak of death? 
 Sebituane will never die. It is not for such as he to leave 
 this world where he is so much needed. Do not say the 
 word to him again, lest you disturb him.” Thus did they 
 believe, these adoring people of his, that their great chiet 
 could not be otherwise than immortal—so mighty were his 
 deeds, so matchless his powers. 
 
 Noting the ominous expression on the faces around him, 
 and catching many murmurs of disapproval, Livingstone 
 refrained, though sorely against his will, from speaking fur- 
 ther to Sebituane in regard to death, “ fearing,” as he adds, 
 “that if I had persisted the impression would haye been 
 produced that by speaking to him of death I wished him to 
 die.” For the same reason Livingstone was also afraid to 
 give Sebituane medical attention; for if he failed to cure, 
 he would assuredly be charged with killing the chief. Then 
 the people in the first agony of their loss would doubtless 
 have put him and his family to death. It surely must have 
 been one of the most trying and painful experiences through 
 which Livingstone had ever been called to pass. Had he 
 been alone in the country, he would have faced the situa- 
 tion unflinchingly, and have fearlessly ministered to the 
 needs of Scbituane’s body and soul. But there were his 
 gentle wife and helpless little ones to think of, and for their 
 sakes he drew back. So, all that he could do was to offer 
 up a silent yet fervent prayer to God in Sebituane’s behalf. 
 While the words were yet rushing from Livingstone’s over- 
 charged heart, Sebituane raised himself upon his elbow, and 
 glancing tenderly at Livingstone’s little son, said to one of 
 his attendants: “ Take Robert to Maunku [one of his wives], 
 and tell her to give him some milk.” These words, expressing 
 kindly thought for another, were the last the great chief 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 123 
 
 ever uttered. Surely so brave, so beautiful a soul was not 
 shut out from the light of its Father’s mansions, because of 
 the very darkness that had so long shrouded it here. 
 
 Thus Sebituane died almost within view of the great spir- 
 itual light that was about to dawn upon him. This seemed to 
 distress Livingstone more than any thing else. Constantly 
 before him was the reproach: “I surely did not do all that 
 I could have done for poor Sebituane. There were many 
 opportunities I might have embraced even in that short 
 space of time. O if I had but known that death was so 
 near, would I not have utilized every moment, nay every 
 second, in preparing him for the end?” His lament over 
 Sebituane, when he saw the great chief lying dead before 
 him, was as touching in its overwhelming tenderness and ago- 
 nized pathos as David’s lament for Absalom: “ Poor Sebit- 
 uane, my heart bleeds for thee; and what would I not do for 
 thee now? I will weep for thee to the day of my death! 
 Little didst thou think, when in the visit of the white man 
 thou sawest the long-cherished desire of years accomplished, 
 that the sentence of death had gone forth. Thou thoughtest 
 that thou shouldst procure a weapon from the white man 
 which would shield thee from the attacks of the fierce Ma- 
 tebele; but a more deadly dart than theirs was aimed at 
 thee; and though thou couldst well ward off a dart—none 
 ever better—thou didst not see that of the king of terrors. 
 I will weep for thee, my brother, and I would cast forth my 
 sorrows in despair for thy condition. But I know that thou 
 wilt receive no injustice whither thou art gone. Shall not 
 the Judge of all the earth do right? I leave thee to him. 
 Alas, alas, Sebituane! I might have said more to him. 
 God forgive me, and free me from blood-guiltiness! ” 
 
CHAPTER ae 
 
 MAMOCHISANE SUCCEEDS SEBITUANE—HER GRACIOUSNESS TO LIV- 
 INGSTONE—LIVINGSTONE AND OSWELL MAKE A SHORT JOURNEY 
 OF EXPLORATION—DISCOVERY OF THE ZAMBESI—THE CHARM- 
 ING RIVER COUNTRY—THE ABUNDANCE OF ANIMAL LIFE—LIV- 
 INGSTONE’S TENDER HEART—A PATHETIC SCENE. 
 
 EBITUANE was succeeded in the chieftainship by 
 ee his daughter, Mamochisane. She was a very intelli- 
 gent and kindly disposed young savage, with many of her 
 father’s nobler traits of character, though with little of his 
 governing ability. 
 
 Livingstone received permission from Mamochisane to 
 visit any part of her domain he desired. She also kindly 
 proposed to furnish him with an escort at any time. Leay- 
 ing his wife and children under Mamochisane’s protection, 
 Livingstone, with his friend Mr. Oswell and twenty of the 
 Makololo men 
 
 as Sebituane’s people were known—began 
 a short exploration into the country. They took a north- 
 easterly direction, and proceeded toward the town of Lin- 
 yanti, on the Chobe River, about one hundred and thirty 
 miles distant. Linyanti was the capital city of the Mako- 
 lolo, and was the point from which Sebituane had started 
 to meet Livingstone. Passing through Linyanti, Living- 
 stone and his companions kept on north-eastwardly, and on 
 the third day of August came upon a magnificent river, 
 right in the heart of the continent, and flowing, as they 
 afterward discovered, ‘almost from sea to sea.” This was 
 
 the Zambesi. known by the natives of that section as the 
 (124) 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 125 
 
 Sesheke. Although it was in the dry season, the breadth 
 of the river was not less than three hundred yards at any 
 point—at many places it was more than six hundred yards. 
 The current was very deep and strong. Livingstone’s ex- 
 clamation on beholding this majestic stream was, “ How 
 glorious! How magnificent! How beautiful!” while Os- 
 well enthusiastically declared, ‘ Not even in India have I 
 seen so fine a river!” The natives told them that, like the 
 Nile, the Zambesi had its annual overflows, often rising 
 twenty to twenty-five feet, and flooding the lands for fifteen 
 miles on each side of the stream. When Livingstone’s party 
 were crossing, the current, that leaped about in miniature 
 waves, lifted up their canoes and made them “ roll beauti- 
 fully.” Livingstone thought it one of the prettiest sights he 
 had ever beheld. The scenery along the banks was grand 
 beyond description. Livingstone feelingly declared that it 
 was even more beautiful than his own firths of Forth and 
 Clyde, of which it forcibly reminded him. So deeply did 
 it impress him that he felt the tears welling as his thoughts 
 wandered back to his home so far away in “ Bonnie Scot- 
 iand.” But he manfully restrained the emotions, and with 
 a great effort kept back the tears; “for if I had not,” he 
 humorously remarks, “the old man who was conducting us 
 over might have said, ‘ What on earth are you blubbering 
 for? Afraid of the crocodiles, eh?’” With such light 
 bits of digressive humor as this Livingstone often sought 
 to hide his deeper feelings. 
 
 Tn writing to his brother Charles about the discovery of 
 the Zambesi, Livingstone rapturously affirmed that it 
 was the first real river he had ever seen. Again and again 
 he heard of most wonderful rapids some miles above and of 
 great water-falls below. Both he and Oswell felt a keen 
 
126 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, _ 
 
 desire to go on a voyage of discovery in each direction, and 
 would doubtless have done so had not their time been lim- 
 ited. Livingstone’s great object in coming to Linyanti and 
 the country surrounding it had been to find a healthy and 
 convenient locality in which to plant a mission station, and 
 he felt that he could undertake no further expedition until 
 that vexed question was satisfactorily settled. On a future 
 visit, however, Livingstone beheld the great Victoria Falls, 
 named by him in honor of his Queen, and whieh is looked 
 upon by many as his most important geographical discovery. 
 
 Livingstone and Oswell found the country around the 
 Zambesi, as it had been about the Zouga, extremely pro- 
 lific of animal life. The forests abounded with game of 
 every description, and the river with fish of various kinds. 
 All along the banks were the most magnificent trees they 
 had ever seen, among them numbers of the “ machabell- 
 tree,” that bore quantities of a large yellow fruit, something 
 like the plum in its nature, only much larger, with enor- 
 mous stones, and very refreshing in quality. The leaves 
 of this tree were exceedingly beautiful and glossy, and the 
 tree itself presented a most charming sight. It was the “ fa- 
 yorite food of the elephant,” as evidences of a recent visit 
 from these beasts were soon discovered. Indeed, so nu- 
 merous were the elephants in this region that it was not 
 uncommon to see them in vast droves even in the close 
 neighborhood of the villages. The natives made constant 
 war upon them, a party of hunters often bringing down 
 eight or ten of them on one hunt; but with all this slaugh- 
 ter they did not seem to decrease. To obtain the valuable 
 tusks was of course the hunter’s principal object; though 
 the heart of the beast, when cooked after a style peculiar 
 to the native African, was a great delicacy. The Makolo- 
 
A DISASTROUS ELEPHANT HUNT. 
 
 (127) 
 
128 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 lo enjoyed an extensive trade in ivory, getting in exchange 
 for it beads, tobacco, pipes, knives, and other similar arti- 
 cles. Buffaloes, elands, water-bucks, koodoos, rhinoceroses, 
 and many other animals, abounded; but the elephant was 
 the most coveted reward of the hunter’s efforts. Sometimes 
 these elephant hunts would end most disastrously. The in- 
 furiated beasts, maddened by the pain of the spear-wounds, 
 would charge upon their assailants, trampling them with 
 their huge feet or tossing the life out of them by one swing 
 of their mighty trunk. 
 
 The lion, that terrible king of beasts, was often seen; but 
 he did not terrify the natives, as he generally does those un- 
 used to meeting him. Livingstone learned from the Mako- 
 lolo many things in regard to the lion he had not known 
 before. It has been a popular belief that the lion would 
 always make the first attack upon a man, even if the latter 
 showed no disposition to molest him. Livingstone, with all 
 his experience in the country, was of this opinion too; but 
 the Makololo soon convinced him that the lion rarely at- 
 tacks a man first. However, this is true only during the 
 day-time, or on a clear moonlight night. Ona dark night 
 there is much danger, unless the hunter or traveler can be 
 surrounded by a glare of light. It was also generally sup- 
 posed that the lion was the master of every other beast of 
 the forest. The Makololo showed Livingstone many proofs 
 to the contrary. In the rhinoceros, elephant, and buffalo 
 the lion had more than his match, and often his equal in 
 the giraffe—one blow from the small but powerful hoof of 
 the latter animal being all that was necessary to crush in 
 the lion’s head as though it were an egg-shell. The lion 
 himself seemed aware of his danger from these animals, and 
 would never be seen willingly near either of them, 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 129 
 
 Close to one of the villages where Livingstone and his 
 party stopped there was a beautiful ford, to which the buf- 
 faloes went in great herds to drink. Occasionally a lion 
 would go thither. Once Livingstone saw a medium-sized 
 buffalo bull catch an unusually large and strong-looking 
 lion, and kill him outright by one toss of the horns. At 
 the mere sight of an elephant the lion would often turn ‘and 
 flee; though sometimes, doubtless when suffering the pangs 
 of hunger, he would creep upon and devour a young calf 
 that had happened to stray from its mother. 
 
 Livingstone gives us this picture of a near acquaintance 
 with the lion: “ When a lion is met in the day-time, a cir- 
 cumstance by no means unfrequent to travelers in these 
 parts, if preconceived notions do not lead them to expect 
 something very noble or majestic, they will see merely an 
 animal somewhat larger than the biggest dog they ever saw, 
 and partaking very strongly of the canine features; the 
 face is not much like the usual drawings of a lion, the nose 
 being much prolonged like a dog’s; not exactly like such 
 as the painters paint it—though they might learn better 
 at the Zoological Gardens—their ideas of majesty being 
 usually shown by making their lions’ faces like old wom- 
 en in night-caps. When encountered in the day-time, 
 the lion stands a second or two, gazing, then turns slowly 
 around, and walks as slowly away for a dozen paces, look- 
 ing over his shoulder; then he begins to trot, and, when he 
 thinks himself out of sight, bounds off like a greyhound.” 
 But when first molested, or angered in any way, the lion 
 will fight to the death, as Livingstone knew only too well 
 from painful experience. 
 
 The true king of the African forests was the rhinoceros. 
 
 Even the elephant feared its approach, and would try to 
 9 ; 
 
FORESTS. 
 
 THE KING OF THE AFRICAN 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 131 
 
 get beyond its reach. Indeed, every animal seemed to 
 stand in mortal terror of the rhinoceros; and no wonder! 
 With one blow of its sharp horn, or horns—for there were 
 some varieties with two—it had been known to split a tree 
 asunder. The consequence of such a stroke to an animal’s 
 body may well be imagined. Livingstone’s party witnessed 
 a fearful encounter between an elephant and a rhinoceros, 
 in which the former was completely disemboweled by one 
 thrust of the death-dealing horn. 
 
 In the neighborhood of the Zambesi Livingstone saw for 
 the first time a new species of the water-buck, which the 
 natives called leche. It was a superb creature, with fine 
 ringed horns “ bending outward and inward,” quite unlike 
 the gemsbok of more southern Africa, whose beautiful long 
 horns point straight over its back with the regularity and 
 precision of guardsmen’s muskets. Unlike the gemsbok, 
 too—whose coat throughout is of an intermingled black 
 and gray—the stomach-and chest of the leche, together 
 with a broad patch over the eyes, are nearly all of a pure 
 white, only here and there a fleck of gray shading off into 
 a soft brown. The remainder of the body is of a light 
 brown, except the limbs, which are of a darker hue. The 
 male leche is distinguished from the female by a handsome 
 mane resembling that of the gnu, but thicker, smoother, 
 and finer in every way. 
 
 Though he had ample opportunities to go in pursuit of 
 game, and was fond of vigorous exercise, Livingstone en- 
 gaged in hunting only when the flesh was needed for food. 
 To him it appeared cruel in the extreme to slaughter inno- 
 cent and defenseless animals for the mere love of the sport. 
 Daily his great, kind heart was pained by the wholesale 
 butchery he saw going on around him, Jndeed, one of his 
 
132 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 biographers remarks that “so overflowing was his well of 
 human kindness he seems to have regretted the death of 
 even the very lion or alligator that was about to make a 
 mouthful of him.” With a heart so tender, he could not 
 but be deeply moved and pained by witnessing the incident 
 about to be related. 
 
 One evening, after a long and hard day’s march, our 
 travelers stopped to arrange their camp for the night at 
 the head of a beautiful grass-covered plain, out of which 
 rose here and there a low, cup-shaped hill, At many 
 places there were pools of crystal water, left by the rain. 
 Besides the tall, rich grass, there was no verdure save at 
 varied intervals a few clumps of the flat-topped and bushy- 
 growing mimosa. The hills, however, were covered with 
 dense clusters of the “idoro” bush, interspersed with 
 patches of the “ watch-en-bechen,” or “ stop-awhile ” thorn. 
 At the commencement of this beautiful, park-like plain 
 there was a luxuriant forest of “ machabell” and “ mamo- 
 sho” trees, the latter very tall and magnificently propor- 
 tioned, and bearing a fruit like the walnut in appearance, 
 and not unlike it in taste and in the outer hull and inner 
 shell. In the shade of these trees, and near a pool of clear 
 water, the camping-place was prepared. The next morn- 
 ing, as Livingstone stood upon the summit of one of the 
 hills about a half-mile from the camp, making observations 
 through his telescope, he beheld, near the center of the val- 
 ley, about a mile and a half distant, an unusually large ele- 
 phant cow with her calf. The calf was rolling in one of 
 the pools of water, which Livingstone could see had been 
 made quite muddy by the plunges of the little animal. The 
 mother was standing by the side of the pool contentedly 
 fanning herself with her long ears, and gazing with mater- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 133 
 
 nal pride and pleasure upon her offspring. It was a pretty 
 picture, which Livingstone contemplated with feelings of 
 appreciation. But suddenly he descried some of his men, 
 whom he supposed were at that moment lounging about. the 
 camp, cautiously approaching the elephant and calf from 
 the rear. Totally unconscious of danger, the proud and 
 happy mother-elephant continued the flapping of her long 
 ears and watched the demonstrations of her big, noisy baby. 
 Directly, while the men were creeping nearer and nearer, 
 she went into the pool and stood there spouting the water 
 from her great trunk in gentle showers over the body of the 
 ealf, who returned the sport by throwing diminutive jets 
 from its own baby trunk over its mother with apparently 
 the greatest enjoyment. As she stood there wagging her 
 tail from side to side, and playing at fireman’s hose with 
 her calf, it did Livingstone good to gaze upon the scene. 
 But there were the approaching men, and his heart grew 
 sick as he foresaw the slaughter soon to take place. He 
 knew that he could not save the elephant, even if he were 
 with the men, as the natives were too covetous of the ivory 
 to heed his commands; yet he felt that if he were nearer 
 he might do something to save the poor little calf. He de- 
 termined to. make an effort, though he was at so great a 
 distance. Calling an attendant, Livingstone bade him run 
 as fast as he could and tell the men to spare the calf; but 
 as he gave the message he doubted whether the attendant 
 could reach the spot in time. It was fully a mile and a 
 half the way he had to go; besides, he was an old man, and, 
 like the majority of his race, not much given to fast run- 
 ning unless fleeing from danger. The messenger dispatched, 
 Livingstone once more turned his glass upon the scene at 
 the pool. The men were within fifty or sixty paces of the an- 
 
134 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 imal, and he could catch from their movements that they 
 were beginning the pipings and the sarcastic salutation that 
 usually preceded an attack. The piping was accomplished 
 by blowing into reeds or between the fingers of the hands 
 locked together. After piping a few moments, and thor- 
 oughly attracting the attention of the animals, the men be- 
 gan their chant, which was something like this: ‘“O chief! 
 O chief! O chief of a great tribe, we have come to kill you! 
 Start not, and gaze at us with thy wide, round eyes, for this 
 which we say is of a truth. We have come to lay you low, 
 you of a mighty following, and we bold men and braye! O 
 chief! O chief! O chief, thou shalt die; but not thou alone, 
 but many more with thee! All those of your race that 
 come within reach of our spears. It must be done. The 
 gods have said it, and we have said it, therefore is there no 
 falling back. O chief! Ochief! prepare, then, to die!” 
 As the sounds of the first shrill piping fell upon their ears, 
 both animals rushed from the pool and turned as if to flee. 
 The calf did get several paces in front of its mother, but, 
 catching sight of the advancing men, returned in great fear. 
 Reaching out her huge proboscis, the mother-elephant drew 
 the trembling calf nearer her side and held it there, to reds- 
 sure the frightened young creature, as well as to shield it 
 from danger. Next she worked herself around until she 
 stood between the calf and the men, then began to move 
 slowly but steadily away, working the ealf along in front of 
 her. Every now and then she would give the timid and 
 frightened little creature a caressing stroke with her trunk. 
 seemingly to bid it keep up its courage. While thus seek- 
 ing to get beyond the reach of the men, as well as to shield 
 the calf from their darts, she kept looking back to see how 
 they were gaining upon her. Occasionally she would sepa- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 135 
 
 rate herself from the calf and make a movement as if to 
 return and attack the pursuers. Then, apparently think- 
 ing better of it, and recalling the danger the calf would be 
 in should she deprive it of the shield of her body, she would 
 hug up nearer to it and endeavor to increase the onward 
 progress. It was pitiful, as well as touching in the extreme, 
 to watch the conflict between her anxiety to protect her 
 offspring and her desire to attack, and put to rout if possi- 
 ble, the on-coming slayers. The men could haye charged 
 upon her at once, but such did not seem to be their wish. 
 Doubtless they had intended from the first to get her into 
 a more favorable position, one in which all the advantage _ 
 would be on their side. They kept within fifty or sixty 
 paces of her, however, and continued their pipings and 
 shoutings. Two or three hundred yards or more from the 
 spot at which they had started her there was the bed of a 
 partially dried river-course that formed here a somewhat 
 steep depression. As she was going down the hitherward 
 bank of the stream they suddenly charged upon her with 
 fierce shouts, driving their spears, to the number of fifteen 
 or more, into her body. The pain seemed for a moment to 
 fairly madden her. Turning, with her sides dripping blood 
 from nearly a score of wounds, she began making every ef- 
 fort of which her waning strength was capable to carry her- 
 self beyond the reach of her assailants, apparently for the 
 moment having forgotten her calf. As she fled from it 
 the frightened little creature gave a piteous bellow and 
 sprung into the water. It was at once dispatched by the 
 men. Hearing the cry of the calf, the dam stopped in- 
 stantly in her wild flight, and wheeling suddenly, came 
 plunging back toward it, shrieking with rage and fury. 
 She at first headed straight for the calf, then, apparently 
 
 4 
 
136 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 changing her mind, changed her course also, and the next 
 moment was charging full upon the men who were now 
 standing in a cluster watching her movements. Seeing the 
 animal approach with such mad determination, they imme- 
 diately began scattering in every direction, falling over 
 each other in their haste and terror. They were all so 
 fortunate as to get out of her way except one poor fellow. 
 As he wore a bright scarlet cloth twisted about his shoul- 
 ders, he seemed to serve as the one particular target upon 
 which the enraged beast had fastened all her attention. 
 Heading straight for him—though he had turned and 
 sought to protect himself behind a clump of scrubby mimo- 
 ‘sa—she caught her trunk within the gaudy folds of the 
 cloth about his shoulders; then lifting her head high in 
 the air, she lifted the unfortunate man with it, and the 
 next moment, with a terrible shriek of rage, threw him at 
 full length upon the ground—life no doubt becoming ex- 
 tinct on the instant. As she turned to seek a second vic- 
 tim, another shower of spears greeted her. This was too 
 much for her already weakened condition through the pre- 
 vious loss of blood. Leaping into the air with a spasmodic 
 movement, she caught upon her feet, though unsteadily, and 
 staggered from side to side, with the blood spouting in tor 
 rents from the fresh wounds she had received. For a mo- 
 ment she reeled thus, like one drunken, then with a wild 
 shriek of mortal pain sunk to a kneeling position, The 
 next instant she fell over on her side, gave two or three 
 convulsive lunges with her huge feet, and was dead. 
 Livingstone did not witness the conclusion of this une- 
 qual and cruel contest. After the first shower of spears 
 and the dispatch of the calf, he had turned away from the 
 revolting spectacle, sick at heart, and made his way back 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 137 
 
 tothe camp. The messenger sent by him to save the calf, 
 it is needless to add, did not arrive in time. The sick and 
 pained feeling Livingstone carried back with him to the 
 camp was in no wise relieved, he tells us, even by the 
 knowledge, afterward borne to him, that, as leader of the 
 party, a portion of the ivory was his. Most gladly would 
 he haye put aside all selfish interests, and foregone any 
 share of profit, to have locked to the last upon that happy 
 scene as he had first gazed upon it before the cruel hunters 
 had come to overwhelm it in blood and to quench it in 
 death. Truly, “the bravest” are always “the tenderest; 
 the loving, the most daring.” 
 
CHAPT Ewes 
 
 A HORRIFYING INCIDENT—LIVINGSTONE HEART-SICK BECAUSE OF 
 THE SLAVE-TRADE—HIS DETERMINATION TO FIND A REMEDY— 
 A GIGANTIC UNDERTAKING—HE SENDS HIS FAMILY TO ENGLAND 
 —HIS TOUCHING LETTERS TO THEM—THE PROPOSED MARCH 
 FROM “SEA TO SEA”—ANOTHER ATTACK BY THE BOERS UPON 
 SECHELE—THE INDIGNANT CHIEF'S INTENDED VISIT TO TIE 
 QUEEN. 
 
 \ XK 7 HILE stopping at one of the towns along the 
 course of the Zambesi, Livingstone met with an 
 incident that changed the whole current of his after life. 
 As he and Oswell were the first white men to visit that re- 
 gion, they were called upon by large numbers of natives. 
 Among these visitors one day was a dandy-like young fel- 
 low who came strutting into their presence, and wearing 
 a gorgeously flowered dressing-gown. Livingstone was 
 amused by the fellow’s airs, yet surprised to find such 
 goods upon the back of a savage in this remote corner of 
 the Dark Continent. On making inquiries he was horri- 
 fied to learn that the goods had been obtained from a tribe 
 called the Mambari in exchange for some boys, turned over 
 to them as slaves. Livingstone’s horror and indignation 
 were increased when he found that this man was one of Se- 
 bituane’s people. Pushing his investigations still farther, 
 he was amazed and more thoroughly horror-stricken than 
 ever to learn that only the year before the slave-trade had 
 been fully organized in Sebituane’s domains. 
 How bitterly did Livingstone now regret the many mis- 
 
 haps that had kept him from reaching Sebituane! Above 
 (138) 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 139 
 
 all, what a great calamity had been Sebituane’s untimely 
 death! He did not believe the good old chieftain had 
 known of the existence of this evil in his country; but if 
 he had, Livingstone felt that he could soon haye obtained 
 from him the help and encouragement needful to combat 
 it. Livingstone must now battle alone in its overthrow; 
 and such a battle as it was to be! Even the thought of 
 it was enough to make the stoutest heart quail. Living- 
 stone, however, gave no sign of drawing back, or of being 
 dismayed. His abiding faith in God was to him a sure 
 prophecy of success in the end. He knew that it was not 
 to be the work of one mortal man, yet he would do as much 
 as lay within his power. He not only felt this to be his 
 present duty, but accepted it as his life-work, and took it 
 up gladly. 
 
 Though Livingstone had no knowledge of any natives 
 selling members of their own families into slavery, many 
 were the proofs of different tribes having sold the children 
 of others to the Portuguese traders. And now came to 
 him the master inspiration of his ife—an inspiration that 
 struck its firm roots into the very depths of his soul, and 
 grew into a purpose from which not even the thought of 
 wife and children could turn him. The spiritual as well as 
 the moral welfare of the whole country depended upon his 
 success in overcoming the evils of the slave-traffic. 
 
 The one consuming desire of the African seemed to be to 
 possess articles of European manufacture and commerce. 
 Hence Livingstone believed that if he could open up a 
 highway of traffic whereby goods might be brought into the 
 country, and given in legitimate exchange for ivory and 
 other articles of native production, a vise-like grasp would 
 be gained upon the dread monster of slavery, and its throt- 
 
140 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 tling to the death would be but a matter of time. This 
 highway Livingstone believed could be established through 
 the Zambesi River, if it stretched from sea to sea, as claimed. 
 But did it lead from sea to sea? This question he deter- 
 mined to solve by exploring from one side of the continent 
 to the other. It was a gigantic undertaking for one man, 
 but Livingstone determined that he would make the at- 
 tempt if it cost him his life. Better die nobly doing a duty, 
 he thought, than to shrink like a coward from the mere re- 
 port of danger, and live with the remembrance of obliga- 
 tions ignobly shirked. How loudly that voice sounded in 
 his ears! how thrilling the words, “ Greater love than this 
 hath no man, that he lay down his life for his friends!” 
 Ah! that was the key-note of Livingstone’s whole coura- 
 geous and unselfish life; and he struck it bravely, and held 
 to it firmly, and sounded it broadly. No wonder it awak- 
 ened all the minor chords of his own heart, and sent sweet, 
 grand music into the hearts of others. 
 
 What was to be done with Livingstone’s wife and chil- 
 dren? They could not remain where they were, for Sebit- 
 uane’s death had been followed by ominous signs of revolt 
 by the people he had so long and so judiciously governed. 
 There was considerable opposition to Mamochisane, prin- 
 cipally because she was a woman and her governing abil- 
 ities were distrusted. Besides, some of the old warriors 
 argued that if hostilities should arise she could not lead 
 them into battle; or if she had sufficient courage to take 
 command, she was unskilled in the art of war. It was a 
 bad business from beginning to end, they declared, this put- 
 ting of a woman, and a young woman at that, to rule over 
 the Makololo; and they could not see why Sebituane had 
 so ordered it. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 141 
 
 There was more or less commotion in various parts of the 
 territory, and Livingstone felt that a serious outbreak 
 might occur at no distant time, especially as a rival claim- 
 ant to the chieftainship had appeared in the person of 
 Mpepe, a half-brother of Mamochisane. Livingstone’s old 
 station at Kolobeng was also unsafe, owing to the near prox- 
 imity of the Boers on one side and the Caffres on the other. 
 He thought of repairing to Kuruman; but Mr. Moffat and 
 his wife were some distance up the country, and there was 
 no telling when they would return—there was every prob- 
 ability that they would go on a visit to England. Living- 
 stone’s own hopes now turned to England as a refuge for 
 his dear ones, but the depleted condition of his purse for- 
 bade their going. In this dilemma the generous Oswell came 
 to the rescue, proposing to defray the entire traveling ex- 
 penses of Mrs. Livingstone and the children to England. 
 At first Livingstone felt that he could not accept so great 
 a favor, even at Oswell’s hands; but the latter pressed the 
 offer in such a way that Livingstone could no longer re- 
 fuse. His acceptance was with tears of joy and gratitude 
 and a pressure of the hand that Oswell could never forget. 
 
 It was with a lighter heart than he had carried for many 
 a day—although he should be separated from his dear ones 
 for at least two years—that Livingstone took his family 
 down to Cape Town and saw them safely on board a vessel 
 bound for England. But when he embraced them for what 
 might be the last time, his heart was heavy and sad enough. 
 He promised them and himself that if his journey across 
 the continent was successful he would join them in England 
 at the expiration of two years. 
 
 It was on the twenty-third day of April, 1852, that Liv- 
 ingstone stood on the wharf at Cape Town and watched the 
 
142 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 good ship that was fast bearing from him his dearest earth- 
 ly treasures. As she passed onward from his sight he 
 bravely wiped away the unbidden tears and turned reso- 
 lutely to the work before him. He was about to enter 
 upon the longest and most dangerous journey he had ever 
 undertaken. The route he had mapped out extended from 
 Cape Town to the Portuguese settlement of St. Paul de Lo- 
 anda on the west coast of Africa, and thence right across 
 the continent to Quilimane on the Indian Ocean, and di- 
 rectly at the mouth of the Zambesi River. A glance at 
 the map of Africa will convey to the reader some idea of 
 the magnitude of this undertaking; but a mere ecompre- 
 hension of distance can give little understanding of the in- 
 trepidity, the unparalleled determination that planned the 
 enterprise and carried it through. It seems scarcely possi- 
 ble that one man could have done so much, and accom- 
 plished even more than he had hoped; yet there is no cal- 
 culating the possibilities of a single soul that burns, as did 
 Livingstone’s, with the love of God and men. He had in- 
 timated to his friends that he might accomplish this jour- 
 ney of fully five thousand miles in something like two years. 
 Indeed, it had been a strong hope in his heart that he 
 would rejoin his family in England in twa years. Alas! 
 it was nearly five years before he saw them again. 
 
 Livingstone remained at Cape Town a few weeks, making 
 preparations for his journey. While there he wrote the 
 following letter to his wife, which gives full proof of the 
 tender love that ruled his héart: 
 
 Care Town, May 5th, 1852. 
 My Dearest Mary: How I miss you now, and the dear children! 
 My heart yearns incessantly over you. How many thoughts of the 
 past crowd into my mind! I feel as if I would treat you all much 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 1438 
 
 more tenderly and lovingly than ever. You have been a great 
 blessing to me. You attended to my comfort in many, many ways. 
 May God bless you for all your kindnesses. 1 see no face now to be 
 compared to that sunburned one which has so often greeted me with 
 its kind looks. . . . Let us do our duty to our Saviour, and we 
 shall meet again. I wish that time were now. You may read the 
 letters over again that I wrote at Mabotsa—the sweet time you know. 
 As I told you before, I tell you again, they are true, true; there is 
 not a bit of hypocrisy in them. I never show all my feelings; but 
 I can say truly, my dearest, that I loved you when I married you, 
 and the longer I lived with you I loved you the better. 
 
 Let us do our duty to Christ, and he will bring us through the world 
 with honor and usefulness. He is our refuge and high tower; let us 
 trust in him at all times, and in all circumstances. Love him more 
 and more, and diffuse his love among the children. Take them all 
 around you, and kiss them for me. Tell them I have left them for 
 the love of Jesus, and they must love him too, and avoid sin, for that 
 displeases Jesus. I shall be delighted to hear of you all safe in En- 
 gland. 
 
 Your ever most affectionate, D. Livingstone. 
 
 And here is one to his eldest daughter, who was at that 
 time in her fifth year. How eloquently it speaks of the 
 proud and loving father that he was; and how entirely it 
 refutes the accusation that Livingstone was a somewhat cold 
 and undemonstrative man in his family circle: 
 
 Carr Town, May 18, 1852. 
 
 My Dear Agnes: This is your own little letter. Mamma will 
 read it to you, and you will hear her just as if I were speaking to 
 you, for the words that I write are those that she will read. I am 
 still at Cape Town. You know that you left me there when you all 
 went into the big ship and sailed away. Well, I shall leave Cape 
 Town soon. Malatsi has gone for the oxen, and then I shall go 
 away back to Sebituane’s country, and see Seipone and Meriye, who 
 gave you the beads and fed you with milk and honey. [I shall not 
 see you again for a long time, and I am verysorry. I have no Nan- 
 
144 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 nie now. I have given you back to Jesus, your friend—your papa 
 who is in heaven. He is above you, but he is always near you. 
 When we ask things from him, that is praying to him; and if you 
 do or say a naughty thing, ask him to pardon you, and bless you, and 
 make you one of his children. Love Jesus much, for he loves you, 
 and he came and died for you. © how good Jesus is! I love him, 
 and shall love him as long as I live. You must love him too, and 
 you must love your brothers and mamma, and never tease them nor 
 be naughty, for Jesus does not like to see naughtiness. Good-by, 
 my dear Nannie. ; D. LiviIncstTone. 
 
 Livingstone left Cape Town on the 8th of June, 1852, 
 and arrived at Kuruman early in September. Here he 
 Jearned that the Boers had again attacked his old friend 
 Sechele, killing many of his people and carrying numbers 
 of women and children into captivity. They had besides 
 destroyed the remaining household goods, clothing, books, 
 and such things as had been spared to Livingstone during 
 the first raid on Kolobeng, and such as he had since been 
 able to collect. As he humorously but pathetically said 
 afterward, “they had saved him the trouble of ‘making a 
 will’ in case his death should have been near, since there 
 wasn’t so much as a pot remaining.” 
 
 The following letter, which Sechele had sent to Kuru- 
 man for Livingstone, by the hand of Masabele—the one 
 wife the chief had retained after his conversion to Chris- 
 
 tianity—affectingly narrates the disaster that had over- 
 
 taken the brave Bakwain and his unfortunate people: 
 Friend of my heart’s love, and of all the confidence of my heart, 
 I am Sechele; I am undone by the Boers, who attacked me, though 
 I had no guilt with them. They demanded that I should be in their 
 kingdom, and I refused; they demanded that I should prevent the 
 English and Griquas from passing [northward]. I replied, “These 
 are my friends, and I can prevent no one” [of them]. They came 
 on Saturday, and I besought them not to fight on Sunday, and they 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 145 
 
 assented. They began on Monday morning at twilight, and fired 
 with all their might, and burned the town with fire, and scattered 
 us. They killed sixty of my people, and captured women and chil- 
 dren and men. And the mother of Baleliring [a former wife of Se- 
 chele] they also took prisoner. ‘They took all the cattle and all the 
 goods of the Bakwains [Bechuanas], and the house of Livingstone 
 they plundered, taking away all his goods. The number of wagons 
 they had was eighty-five, and a cannon; and after they had stolen 
 my own wagon and that of Macabe, then the number of their wag- 
 ons [counting the cannon as one] was eighty-eight. All the goods 
 of the hunters [certain English gentlemen hunting and exploring in 
 the north] were burned in the town; and of the Boers were killed 
 twenty-eight. 
 
 Yes, my beloved friend, now my wife goes to see the children, and 
 <obus Hae will convey her to you. Iam 
 
 SECHELE, the son of Mochoasele. 
 
 During the attack Masabele had hidden herseif in a cleft 
 of rock overlooking the village. She had with her her 
 youngest child, a babe of only a few months. Terrified by 
 the noises of the combat in the village below, the child be- 
 gan to utter piercing cries. Some Boers were immediately 
 seen to turn and approach the spot, as though attracted by 
 the child’s screams. Overcome by the thought that their 
 hiding-place was about to be discovered, and scarcely know- 
 ing what she did in this dire extremity, Masabele took off 
 her bracelets and gave them to the child to play with. Fort- 
 unately this quieted it almost instantly. Both their lives 
 were doubtless saved by this device, as the Boers, unable to 
 locate the place whence the sounds had issued, turned as if 
 mystified and went away. 
 
 These tidings from Kolobeng moved Livingstone greatly, 
 especially on Sechele’s account. He did not see that he 
 could do any thing, however, in the urgency of the work 
 he had undertaken, but advise Sechele to seek a safer and 
 
 10 
 
146 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 better-fortified place, nearer the station of Kuruman, and 
 there establish himself, attracting to his new town as strong 
 a following as possible. 
 
 As to how Livingstone received the news of the loss of 
 his own property, his letter to his wife will give the clearer 
 insight, as well as furnish a more extended account of the 
 attack on Kolobeng. We give only such parts as bear upon 
 
 the matters in question: 
 KuruMAN, 20th Sept., 1852. 
 
 My Dearest Mary: Along with this I send you a long letter; this 
 I write in order to give you the latest news. The Boers gutted our 
 house at Kolobeng. - They brought four wagons down, and took away 
 sofa, table, bed, all the crockery, your desk (I hope it had nothing 
 in it—have you the letters?), smashed the wooden chairs, took away 
 the iron ones, tore out the leaves of all the books and then scattered 
 them in front of the house, smashed the bottles containing medi- 
 cines, windows, oven-door, took away the smith-bellows, anvil, all 
 the tools—in fact, every thing worth taking. They went up to Li- 
 maue, went to church morning and afternoon, and heard Mebalwe 
 preach. After the second service they told Sechele they had come 
 to fight, because he allowed Englishmen to proceed to the north, 
 though they had repeatedly ordered him not todo so. Sechele re- 
 plied that he was a man of peace; that he could not molest English- 
 men, because they had never done him any harm, and always treat- 
 ed him well. In the morning they commenced firing on the town 
 with swivels, and set fire to it. The heat forced some of the women 
 to flee, the men to huddle together on the small hill in the middle 
 of the town; the smoke prevented them from seeing the Boers, and 
 the cannon killed many poor Bakwains, sixty in all. The Boers 
 then came near to kill and destroy them all, but the Bakwains 
 killed thirty-five and many horses. They fought the whole day, 
 but the Boers could not dislodge them. They stopped firing in the 
 evening, and then the Bakwains retired on account of having no 
 water. The above sixty are not all men; women and children are 
 among the slain, The Boers were six hundred, and they had seven 
 hundred natives with them. All the corn is burned. Parties went 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 147 
 
 out and burned Bangwaketse town, and swept off all the cattle. 
 Sebubi’s cattle are all gone. All the Bakhatla cattle gone. Nei- 
 ther Bangwaketse nor Bakhatla fired a shot. All the corn burned 
 of the whole three tribes. Every thing edible is taken from them. 
 How will they live? The Boers told Sechele that the Queen had 
 given off the land to them, and henceforth they were the masters, 
 and had abolished chieftainship altogether. . . . I wait here a 
 little in order to get information when the path is clear. Kind Proy- 
 idence detained me from falling into the very thick of it. God will 
 preserve me still. He has work for me, or he would have allowed me 
 to go on just when the Boers were there.* . . . Weshall remove 
 more easily now that we are lightened of our furniture. They have 
 taken away our sofa. I never had a good rest on it. We had only 
 got it ready when we left; Well, they can’t have taken away all 
 the stones. We shall have aseat in spite of them, and that too with 
 a merry heart, that which doeth good like a medicine. 
 
 What brave and cheerful words these! and how noble 
 the man who uttered them! ‘“ Well, they can’t have taken 
 away all thestones. Weshall havea seai in spite of them.” 
 Sunny indeed must have been the heart that could thus 
 meet disaster! His whole life was an eloquent illustration 
 of the beautiful truth that 
 
 To the sunny soul that is full of hope, 
 And whose beautiful trust ne’er faileth, 
 
 The grass is green and the flowers grow bright, 
 Though the wintry storm prevaileth. 
 
 With the sad news of the attack upon Kolobeng had also 
 
 = Livingstone here alludes to the breaking of his wagon-wheels 
 when he was about half the distance between Cape Town and Kn- 
 ruman, which accident had detained him on the road a week or ten 
 days, and kept him from reaching Kolobeng at the time first planned. 
 Had he reached it at that time he would have been there when the 
 Boers made their raid, and his life might have paid the forfeit. 
 
 + It is presumed from these words that the sofa in question was « 
 home-manufactured one 
 
148 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 come the intelligence that the Boers had renewed their 
 vows of vengeance against Livingstone, and declared that 
 he should never again cross their country alive. These 
 threats did not trouble Livingstone, but they had a serious 
 effect upon the men of his expedition. Every one of them 
 deserted, and there was much delay and difficulty in pro- 
 curing others; for, in spite of the dire threats by the Boers, 
 Livingstone had determined to push on. Through the 
 friendly aid of one George Heming, a colored trader who 
 was on his way to establish business relations with the Ma- 
 kololo tribes, the necessary force of men at length joined 
 the expedition. But unfortunately, as Livingstone tells us, 
 “they were the worst possible specimens of those who im- 
 bibe the vices without the virtues of the Europeans.” From 
 this description, and form what afterward occurred, we glean 
 that they were very trifling fellows—more of a drawback 
 than a help. Still, Livingstone was determined to proceed, 
 and he felt that even these natives were better than none. 
 
 When the travelers reached a point about forty miles 
 north of Kuruman they came upon Sechele, with a small 
 body of attendants—bound for England, he declared, to lay 
 before the Queen a complaint as ‘to his treatment by the 
 Boers, and to ask that his wrongs be righted. So firm was 
 his belief in the justice-loving nature of the English people 
 that he did not for a moment doubt that their Queen would 
 at once interest herself in his behalf. He knew that the 
 Queen lived somewhere in England; but as to the locality 
 of England itself he was wholly ignorant. Yet, it could 
 not be very far, he thought, since so many of the English 
 people were constantly coming over to his country. If 
 they could walk it, he was sure that he could walk it too. 
 Anyhow, he was going to make the attempt. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 149 
 
 In vain Livingstone tried to reason with Sechele, and to 
 persuade him to go back, telling him of the many impedi- 
 ments that lay in his way, especially of the great ocean that 
 was to be crossed. But all this had no effect upon Sechele ; 
 his mind was too firmly made up to be changed even by 
 Livingstone, in whom he had more confidence than in any 
 living person. He argued that “if the great white-winged 
 things””—the ships, as he had heard them called by the 
 natives who had wandered down to the Cape and back 
 — could take others across, it was very certain they could 
 take him too, since he was no larger and no heavier than 
 the average man!” Finding it useless to persuade him 
 further, Livingstone, with many misgivings, saw the deter- 
 mined chief wend his way toward the Cape. 
 
 The sturdy Sechele held doggedly to his course and to 
 his intentions until the Cape was reached. Here several 
 English officers, who were both amused at his determina- 
 tion to seek the Queen and filled with genuine indignation 
 against the Boers on account of their dastardly behavior, 
 took quite an interest in him and kept him at their quar- 
 ters. They gave him clothes and money, and it is believed 
 finally dissuaded him from his purposed visit to the Queen, 
 promising themselves to right his wrongs in time by com- 
 pletely exterminating the Boers. Some months later Se- 
 chele again appeared among his people apparently content 
 with his journey, although it had ended at the Cape. 
 
 That Sechele had profited greatly by his visit, though in 
 quite a different manner from what he had expected, was 
 shown by his putting into operation many useful ideas and 
 hints he had obtained while at Cape Town, and all of which 
 proved that he had been a close observer of the modes of 
 civilized life. One of these was the sending of offenders 
 
150 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 to labor on public roads, which he found to work like a 
 charm. 
 
 Acting upon Livingstone’s advice, Sechele now looked 
 about him for a suitable point whereon to establish his new 
 village, which he at the same time determined to make the 
 show village of the country. <A favorable situation was 
 soon found some miles nearer the mission station of Kuru- 
 man. So well did Sechele improve upon the hints and 
 ideas caught at the Cape that his town soon became pros- 
 perous, and, as Livingstone had hoped, he was not long in 
 attracting to himself a numerous following. 
 
 It will interest our readers to learn that Sechele yet sur- 
 vives, with his good wife Masabele, and is still nobly en- 
 deavoring to live up to his Christian profession. His pres- 
 ent village is some forty or fifty miles from the old station 
 of Kolobeng, and is surrounded by many modern improve- 
 ments seldom met with in the heart of so savage a region, 
 and among natives. But when Sechele himself appears, 
 the mystery is all explained. He still preserves a mission 
 station among his people, which is at present upheld by a 
 Hanoverian society. His regard and reverence for the 
 name of Livingstone are unbounded. Most eagerly does he 
 listen to and read all he can glean that relates to the great 
 missionary. At the news of his death he was so deeply 
 affected that he refused to take any food for many days. 
 
 It is a wonder to many, especially to the missionaries who 
 labor among his people, how Sechele gained so much knowl- 
 edge of the Bible. He is also a preacher of great earnest- 
 ness and power, and regularly takes part with the mission- 
 aries in exhorting his people. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE DEPARTURE FROM KURUMAN—HEAVY RAINS—THE FLOODED 
 DISTRICTS — TERRIBLE SUFFERINGS OF THE PARTY — LIVING- 
 STONE’S COURAGE AND fRUST—ARRIVAL AT LINYANTI—THE 
 YOUNG CHIEF SEKELETU— INCIDENTS OF THE SOJOURN AT 
 LINYANTI— THE MiSSION- WORK AMONG THE MAKOLOLO — 
 SEKELETU’S DANGEROUS RIVAL. 
 
 TT was in December, 1852, that Livingstone, in company 
 
 with George Heming, the colored trader, and the men 
 they had hired as attendants, started from Kuruman on the 
 trip of thousands of miles to St. Paul de Loanda. While 
 not deterred from going by the threats of the Boers, he 
 thought it “the better part of valor” to give them as wide 
 a berth as possible. He therefore proceeded toward the 
 country of Sebituane by a route entirely different from any 
 he had before taken. His first principal stopping-place was 
 to be Linyanti, the capital of the Makololo. Here he de- 
 signed remaining until he could make the further arrange- 
 ments necessary to the journey. 
 
 This time Livingstone’s party did not cross the Kalahari, 
 but only went along its edge. They found traveling much 
 less laborious and torturing than it had been heretofore; 
 for a heavy rain had recently fallen, and there was plenty 
 of water for both men and cattle, as well as grass and 
 water-melons in abundance for the oxen. At one point on 
 his route Livingstone met with an English traveler, a Mr. 
 Macabe, who told him that, having lost his way and the 
 
 supply of forage giving out, his oxen had subsisted upon 
 (151) 
 
52 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 the melons alone for twenty-one days. He had undertaken 
 to cross the desert at its widest part, and had it not been a 
 wet season he would have perished. As it was, he had a 
 most eventful experience. 
 
 Though the heavy fall of rain removed all danger of suf- 
 fering from thirst, it seriously impeded Livingstone’s prog- 
 ress. Deep and dangerous pools appeared along the line 
 of march, and on drawing near Sebituane’s domains Liv- 
 ingstone found that in many places the whole face of the 
 country was flooded. At one point the wagons had to be 
 
 abandoned, and it then seemed inevitable that the remain-- 
 
 der of the journey must be made on foot. It was a fright- 
 ful undertaking. The travelers were often wet all day, and 
 for nearly one-half of that time they had to wade through 
 water waist deep. Sometimes they had to swim for their 
 lives. Again, the marshes over which they passed, besides 
 being covered with water, were filled with thorns and reeds 
 that offered great resistance to their advance. The thorns 
 tore their clothing, the sharp edges of the reeds cut into 
 their flesh like the keen blades of knives, but still they 
 pushed bravely on. To add to the distress, most of the 
 men had deserted, and the three who had been left were 
 constantly quarreling among themselves, or stealing the 
 scant supplies that remained. After contending for nearly 
 a week with these swollen rivers, piercing reeds, and tort- 
 uring briers, two of the three men died from the exposure. 
 There were now only Livingstone, Heming, and one of the 
 attendants. 
 
 A great danger into which they were always running while 
 pushing their way through the overflowed regions was the 
 numerous crocodiles and hippopotami. Finally, on reach- 
 ing a comparatively dry spot, our travelers constructed a 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 153 
 
 raft, on which they got over the remaining flooded parts of 
 the country; but on getting into the forests beyond, new 
 trials were encountered. The heat was intense, the buzzing 
 insects stung them, the dense vines tore their faces or tripped 
 their legs, the thorns cut into their already lacerated flesh. 
 In many places they had to go down on their all-fours and 
 crawl, generally emerging with raw and bleeding knees. 
 Livingstone somewhat alleviated his own sufferings by tear- 
 ing his handkerchief in half and binding a portion about 
 each knee. Once, however, even his brave heart failed, 
 and, thinking the hour of death had come, he uttered the 
 first despairing complaint that had ever passed his lips: “O 
 God, have I indeed seen the last of my wife and children? 
 Is this to be the breaking up of all my connections with 
 earth, the leaving of this fair and beautiful world, knowing 
 as yet so little of it?” Then began a communing with 
 himself as to the nature of the hereafter. What was it to 
 be? Where did it lie? “My soul, whither wilt thou em- 
 igrate the first night after leaving this body? Will an an- 
 gel soothe thy flutterings? for sadly fluttered wilt thou be 
 on entering upon eternity. O if Jesus doth but speak one 
 word of peace, how quickly will it establish in thy breast 
 an everlasting calm! Death is indeed a glorious event to 
 one going to Jesus. But whither does the soul wing its 
 flight? What does it see first? There is surely something 
 sublime in passing into the second stage of our immortal 
 lives if washed from our sins. But O to be consigned to 
 ponder over all our sins with memories excited, every scene 
 of our lives held up as ina mirror before our faces, and we 
 looking at them and waiting for the day of judgment!”” Then 
 a return of that 
 
 came stronger and more helpful thoughts 
 trust which had been with him and upheld him in hours of 
 
THs LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 trial and danger. From his lips came words of humble and 
 beseeching prayer—vows of reconsecration to the service of 
 the Master, and entreaty that for the sake of the work that 
 yet lay before him the servant might be spared, all unwor- 
 thy ashe was: “O Jesus, fill me with thy love now! and I 
 beseech thee accept me and use me a little further for thy 
 glory. I have done nothing for thee yet, and O how I 
 would like to do something! O do, do, I beseech thee, ac- 
 cept me and my service, and take to thyself all the glory! 
 O succor now, I entreat thee, for sake of the work yet to 
 be done, thy servant, and give him to see how best to pro- 
 mote the glory of thy kingdom!” 
 
 Ak! surely this impassioned prayer was heard—a new 
 charm set about the life upon the preservation of which de- 
 pended-so many precious results—since on the third day of 
 May Livingstone, with his small remnant of bleeding and 
 famished followers, reached the town of Linyanti. Their 
 condition excited the compassion of the kind-hearted Ma- 
 kololo, and they were immediately given the best of every 
 thing in the place, with kind and sympathetic attendants to 
 alleviate their bodily sufferings as much as possible. 
 
 Livingstone found that a change had taken place in the 
 government of the Makololo. Being distressed by the signs 
 of dissatisfaction on every side, and having really no desire 
 for the position into which she had been thrust, Mamochi- 
 sane had prevailed upon her younger brother, Sekeletu, to 
 become chief of the tribes. While he lay.in the hut recoy- 
 ering from the afflictive experiences of his journey to Lin- 
 yanti, Livingstone was much exercised as to the reception 
 Sekeletu would give him. Any fears that he may have en- 
 tertained were put to rest on his first meeting with the chief. 
 Sekeletu was very young, only about eighteen years old, 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 155 
 
 and it was difficult to surmise what he would be when he 
 grew older; yet it was plain to see that he was simple and 
 kind-hearted, with the promise of many of his father’s no 
 ble qualities, though with nothing like his intelligence. 
 
 When Sekeletu learned the object of Livingstone’s pro- 
 posed journey to the coast, he declared his intention to pro- 
 vide him with all the necessary equipments and to give him 
 an escort of Makololo men. Livingstone thanked God for 
 putting such generous impulses into the young chief’s heart. 
 Had it been otherwise, Livingstone would not have known 
 whither to turn for aid. The many disasters through which 
 he had just passed—the loss of his wagon, oxen, and the va- 
 rious supplies obtained at Kuruman—had left him without 
 means of getting on in his hazardous journey. Sekeletu’s 
 generous conduct was therefore like the bright rays of the 
 sun breaking throuzh dark clouds. But if Sekeletu had 
 chosen an opposite course, Livingstone would have pushed 
 onward, even if he had been compelled to go crawling on 
 his hands and kuees. Such was the indomitable courage 
 and heroic determination of this man, who had surely been 
 fashioned in Heaven's most kingly mold. 
 
 Sekeletu’s proposition was that Livingstone and his com- 
 panions should make the greater part of the journey in c¢a- 
 noes by way of the Zambesi and its tributaries. These ca- 
 noes were to be furnished by tie chief, while men, also fur- 
 nished by him, were to go along the banks, leading oxen— 
 the oxen to be ridden at stages of the journey where the 
 navigation of the streams proved impracticable, and to serve 
 as means of carriage when the rivers had to be left alto- 
 gether. Sekeletu also informed Livingstone that it was his 
 intention to accompany him on many miles of his journey, 
 especially through the greater part of his own territory, in 
 
156 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 order to gain in behalf of the expedition the friendliest in- 
 terest of his people. 
 
 Livingstone’s independent spirit would not permit him to 
 receive so many benefits from Sekeletu without making 
 some return. He therefore examined his scanty store for 
 something of real value—not a gaudy trifle that would prove 
 of no service whatever. He bestowed upon the chief some 
 powder, wire, flints, percussion-caps, an umbrella, a hat, and 
 three goats and some fowls—the latter purchased from a 
 company of strolling peddlers. The chief was delighted, 
 but he had neither expected nor desired any reward. 
 
 While waiting for the required traveling preparations 
 and for his restoration to health and strength, Livingstone 
 engaged in missionary work among the Makololo. He 
 found them a tribe of more than average intelligence— 
 quick in their perceptions, and very easily impressed; but 
 he could at first see little good resulting from his efforts. 
 In the end, however, he began to feel encouraged; and so 
 promising were the evidences given that his old desire to 
 plant a permanent mission station in the Makololo country 
 returned in full force. It caused him to decide at once that 
 should his journey to the coast prove successful he would no 
 longer delay the matter. But the country of the Makololo 
 was at certain seasons very unhealthy, especially that portion 
 around Linyanti. If Livingstone established the station, 
 it would therefore have to be at some other point. When 
 the subject was broached to Sekeletu, he expressed his will- 
 ingness to remove to a healthier locality. In fact, he was 
 ready to go anywhere and to do any thing if Livingstone 
 would reside among his people. He had grown so much 
 attached to Livingstone that he could not bear the thought 
 of separation from him, even fora year or so. He declared 
 
a? 
 
 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 157 
 
 that in Livingstone he had found “a new father;” and his 
 deyotion to the noble missionary was touching to see. He 
 would remain near Livingstone as much as was possible, 
 gazing into his face and hanging upon his words as if fear- 
 ful that he would miss some look or expression meant espe- 
 cially for him. He never failed to hear Livingstone’s ser- 
 mons, and the missionary was hopeful that Sekeletu would 
 soon be brought to a knowledge of the Saviour. 
 Livingstone had no trouble to get the Makololo to hear 
 him read and explain the Scriptures. Indeed, they came in 
 such crowds that sometimes they could not all get within 
 sound of his voice. He generally preached in their public 
 
 meeting-place, called a kotla—a great open-sided hut that 
 stood under the trees near the center of the village. 
 
 Livingstone was much distressed, and yet often amused 
 at the behavior of some of the women. They usually came 
 in groups and sat on mats spread upon the floor. Occasion- 
 ally a woman, in making a restless movement, or in get- 
 ting up to go out, would plant her foot or her elbow upon 
 the dress of another. Instantly the offender would be giv- 
 en a shove, which, if she chanced to be upon her feet, sent 
 her sprawling upon other women. These would pummel 
 the poor unfortunate, and roll her about in a very rough 
 manner, until some of her relatives came to protect her. 
 Then would ensue a most deafening uproar. Al! this time 
 Livingstone would strive to make himself heard, with what 
 success can be readily imagined. 
 
 This skirmishing among the women was only one of the 
 many annoyances to which they subjected Livingstone when 
 he began to preach at Linyanti. They would laugh at the 
 simplest thing that happened. Ifa child cried, or a sleepy 
 old man gaped. or a sleepier old woman nodded, an out- 
 
158 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 burst of merriment would be heard from one end of the 
 kotla to the other. Sekeletu finally took this matter of in- 
 decorum in hand, and before a great while good order was 
 maintained throughout the kotla. 
 
 Learning from Livingstone that one of the first require- 
 ments of civilized life was that women should go thorough- 
 ly clothed, Sekeletu gave orders that every woman of his 
 household should make for herself full clothing out of such 
 material as was at hand. This they all did readily, except 
 the chief’s favorite wife, a very tall and very determined 
 young woman. Sekeletu was greatly provoked to see her 
 come into the kotla ene day with less clothing than she had 
 formerly worn. Going up to her quietly, he remonstrated 
 against her appearance, and tried to induce her to return to 
 her hut for more clothing. She was very willful, or else 
 maliciously inclined to see how far she could carry things 
 with the chief; for she paid no heed whatever to Sekeletu’s 
 gentlemanly remonstrances. This behavior was more than 
 he could stand, for, though gencrally mild and kindly dis- 
 posed, he was very quick and determined when*thoroughly 
 aroused. Getting out of patience at last, he gave the wom- 
 an a ringing box upon the ear, and took her by the hand to 
 drag her toward the tent. This caused loud giggling on all 
 sides, which the woman resented with flashing eyes and an 
 expression that boded no good to the women who were tri- 
 umphing over her. 
 
 Livingstone found the Makololo women in general very 
 harmless, with quick sympathies for real suffering and many 
 generous impulses. No one could have nursed him more 
 tenderly than they did through the sufferings caused by the 
 exposures of his journey to Linyanti. 
 
 Among the few effects left to Livingstone was a small 
 
A BEVY OF LINYANTI BELLES. 
 (159) 
 
160 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 looking-glass, which he kept hanging from the side of his 
 hut. It was at first an object of great terror to both the 
 men and women, as they believed it to be through Living- 
 stone’s witchcraft that their faces could be made to appear 
 in the little shining square of glass; but gradually they grew 
 more assured, until they came to regard it with much fasci- 
 nation, especially the women. They would make daily trips 
 to the mirror, first asking Livingstone’s permission, however. 
 When they came, seeing him busily engaged in reading, they 
 did not think that he paid any attention to them; yet he 
 was so greatly amused at some of their expressions and their 
 manner of acting that he could hardly keep from laughing 
 outright. 
 
 “My! my! is that me?” one of them would say in a dis- 
 consolate voice as she beheld her reflection in the mirror. 
 “Well, I never would have believed it! I really thought 
 that I was better-looking than that! What a big mouth I 
 have, to be sure! while in my eyes there is really a squint! 
 As to my ears—well, they are indeed, as I have been told, 
 nearly as large as pumpkin-leaves. And my chin, how 
 short it is! And see, O dear! O dear! my head does shoot 
 up in the middle as that horrid woman said it did!” 
 
 “T would have been pretty, yes, really pretty,” another 
 one would sigh forth regretfully, “if it hadn’t been for my 
 high cheek-bones. What a pity that I cannot pound them 
 down!” 
 
 One morning a man came to look in the glass. Believ- 
 ing the Doctor asleep, he thus broke forth: “ People have 
 told me that I was very ugly, but I wouldn’t believe them. 
 Who ever does want to believe that they are ugly? or 
 worse yet, to be told of it? But now, alas! alas! I know 
 that I am very ugly indeed; for now that I have seen my- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 161 
 
 self, I can no longer persuade myself that I am even good- 
 looking.” 
 
 Livingstone remained at Linyanti much longer than he 
 had anticipated. He did not think it safe to venture upon 
 that far more arduous portion of his journey to the sea un- 
 til he had thoroughly regained strength and buoyancy. In 
 the meantime he employed himself, as we have seen, both 
 in teaching and preaching among the Makololo. He could 
 not bear to be idle even for a time, doubtless believing with 
 Dr. Adam Clarke that “the great secret of real happiness 
 consists in never allowing one’s energies to stagnate.” 
 
 At first the Makololo seemed unwilling to be taught any 
 thing from books—even the alphabet, or how to spell. They. 
 expressed a fear that they should be bewitched by the 
 strange-looking volumes. Whenever Livingstone opened 
 one of them all who saw it would stand some distance away, 
 in an attitude plainly suggesting that they were ready to 
 rup. This amused Livingstone, and yet he felt sorry for 
 the poor superstitious creatures, and tried to lessen their 
 fears. It was decided that two of the oldest medicine-men 
 should first become Livingstone’s pupils, in order, by the 
 exercise of certain “spells,” to take away any evil influ- 
 ences that might dwell in the books. The medicine-men 
 themselves were somewhat afraid, but two were found who 
 were willing to go, after they had been allowed to prepare 
 their “spells” and “charms,” and to anoint their bodies 
 with something that looked like a compound of rancid but: 
 ter, tar, and red paint. When the experiment had been 
 made, and the two medicine-men came out safe and sound, 
 there was great rejoicing throughout the village for several 
 days. A dance of congratulation was tendered them, and 
 
 a mighty feast given in honor of both pupils and teacher. 
 11 
 
162 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 After this the people began to go in slowly, one at a time, 
 to be taught from the books, but not until they had ob- 
 tained some “ charm” from the medicine-men. As long as 
 Livingstone kept the book to himself—especially the Bible 
 —and did not ask them to take hold of it, they seemed to 
 have no fear. Thus it was that they came to hear him 
 preach, and he entered into the work with all his soul and 
 strength, for he was a faithful missionary. He had labored 
 thirteen years among these dusky children of the Dark Con- 
 tinent, and he looked upon it as the grandest work in which 
 a man could engage. Had not the Prince of Peace, the 
 King of all the earth, himself engaged in it? Often did 
 Livingstone say: “God had an only Son, and he was a mis- 
 sionary and a physician. A poor imitator of him I am, or 
 wish to be. In this service I hope to live, in it I wish to 
 die. May God accept my service, and use me for his glory. 
 A great honor it is to be a fellow-worker with God.” Again. 
 speaking of his proposed march across the Continent, ana 
 of the many things it involved, he says: “ It isa great vent- 
 ure. Yet would I venture every thing for Christ. Pity I 
 
 ’ 
 
 have so little to give.” What a reproach his modesty and 
 devotion are to some of us with our vain boastings and our 
 barren gifts! 
 
 The extracts below, taken from Livingstone’s journal, and 
 which were written during his sojourn at Linyanti, will 
 give his own impressions of his mission-work among the 
 Makololo: 
 
 Banks of the Chobe, Sunday, May 15th.—Preached twice to about 
 sixty people. Very attentive. It is only divine power which can 
 enlighten dark minds like these. The people seem to receive ideas 
 on divine subjects slowly. They listen, but never suppose that the 
 truths must become embodied in actual life. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 163 
 
 Sunday, June 15th—A good and very attentive audience, but im- 
 mediately after the service I went to see a sick man, and when I re- 
 turned toward the kotla I found that the chief had retired into a hut 
 to drink beer, as the custom is; about forty men were standing sing- 
 ing to him, or, in other words, begging beer by that means. A min- 
 ister who had not seen so much pioneer service as | have done would 
 have been shocked to see so little effect produced by an earnest dis- 
 course concerning the future judgment; but time must be given to 
 allow the truth to sink intoa dark mind, and produce its effect. The 
 earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord— 
 that is enough. We can afford to work in faith, for Omnipotence 
 is pledged to fulfill the promise. The great mountains become a 
 plain before the Almighty arm. The poor Bushman, the most de- 
 graded of all Adam’s family, shall see his glory, and the dwellers in 
 the wilderness all bow before him The obstacles to the coming of 
 the kingdom are mighty, but come it will for all that. 
 
 Then let us pray that come it may, 
 As come it will for a’ that; 
 
 That man to man, the world o’er, 
 Shall brothers be for a’ that. 
 
 Of his later Jabors among the Makololo, Livingstone 
 gives these additional pictures: 
 
 When I stand up all the women and children draw near, and hay- 
 ing ordered silence, I explain the plan of salvation, the goodness of 
 God in sending his Son to die, the confirmation of his mission by 
 miracles, the last judgment or future state, the evil of sin—God’s 
 commands respecting it, ete.; always choosing one subject only for 
 an address, and taking care to make it short and plain, and applica- 
 ble to them. This address is listened to with great attention by most 
 of the audience. A short prayer concludes the service, all kneeling 
 down and remaining so till told to rise. 
 
 A quiet audience to-day. The seed is being sown, the least of all 
 seeds now, but it will grow a mighty tree. It is as it were a small 
 stone cut out of a mountain, but it will fill the whole earth. He 
 that believeth shall not make haste. Surely if God can bear with 
 hardened, impenitent sinners for thirty, forty, or fifty years, waiting 
 
164 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 to be gracious, we may take it for granted that his is the best way. 
 He could destroy his enemies, but he wants to be gracious. To be- 
 come irritated with their stubbornness and hardness of heart is un- 
 godlike. 
 
 While waiting at Linyanti, Livingstone proposed to Se- 
 keletu that they should go in quest of a suitable spot for the 
 intended mission station. Sekeletu at first hesitated to ac- 
 company Livingstone, because the route mapped out lay di- 
 rectly through the section where lived his half-brother, 
 Mpepe, who had of late become his most dreaded enemy. 
 When Mamochisane resigned her claim to Sekeletu it 
 greatly angered Mpepe, who thought he had a better right 
 to the chieftainship. Vowing vengeance, he retired to the 
 territory of some of the worst factions of the tribe, where he 
 was now trying to stir upa revolt. He not only threatened 
 Sekeletu’s life, but he made two secret attempts against it, 
 both of which happily failed. To add further to Sekeletu’s 
 danger, Mpepe was upheld by all the half-caste Portuguese 
 tribes along the river, and by the Portuguese traders. The 
 reason of this was that Mpepe favored the slave-trade, and 
 had declared that should he become chief the traders might 
 have it all their own way. Sekeletu, on the other hand, 
 was strongly opposed to the wicked and inhuman practice 
 —-more so than ever since he had heard Livingstone preach 
 so earnestly against it. 
 
 -Taking into consideration this state of affairs, it is not 
 surprising that Sekeletu felt some trepidation in regard to 
 going with Livingstone. Had open warfare impended, he 
 would have cared little for it, since the better classes of the 
 Makololo—and these formed a mighty following—were on 
 the young chief’s side. But he well knew how cruel and 
 treacherous Mpepe could be, and feared some blow in the 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 165 
 
 dark. Yet Sekeletu was a brave young chief, though ef- 
 feminate in appearance, and it did not take him long to de- 
 cide that he would go, despite the peril. When Livingstone 
 learned the true state of affairs, he felt some solicitude for 
 the young chief, but determined not to let Sekeletu get out 
 of his sight. How fortunate it was that he should have so 
 decided, the sequel will show. 
 
CHAPTER 
 
 THE START IN SEARCH OF A HEALTHY LOCALITY—THE DEMON- 
 STRATIVE RECEPTION BY THE PEOPLE — LIVINGSTONE FRUS- 
 TRATES MPEPE’S WICKED DESIGN — MPEPE’S DEATH — UP THE 
 ZAMBESI—A PATHETIC INCIDENT—THE VALLEY OF THE BA- 
 ROTSE—HEATHENISM IN ITS MOST REVOLTING ASPECT — THE 
 BAROTSE DANCE OF WELCOME—LIVINGSTONE VISITS KATONGA 
 —PUSHES FARTHER UP THE RIVER—CONTINUED DISCOURAGE- 
 MENT—THE RETURN TO LINYANTI. 
 
 N leaving Linyanti to seek a healthy location for the 
 © proposed mission station, Livingstone was accompa- 
 nied by Sekeletu and one hundred and sixty of his men. 
 The chief himself was closely attended by his own mopato, 
 or body-guard, which consisted of a picked company of 
 twenty-five or thirty young men of his own age. Living- 
 stone thus describes the procession as it wound away from 
 the village toward the river: “It was pleasant to look back 
 on the long-extended line of our attendants, as it twisted 
 and bent according to the curves of the foot-path, or in and 
 out behind the mounds, the ostrich feathers of the men wav- 
 ing in the wind. Some had the white ends of ox-tails on 
 their heads, hussar fashion, and others great bunches of 
 black ostrich feathers, or caps made of lions’ manes. Some 
 wore red tunics, or various colored prints which the chief 
 had bought from Fleming [Dr. Livingstone’s fellow-tray- 
 eler]; the common men carried burdens; the gentlemen 
 walked with a small club of rhinoceros horn in their hands, 
 and had servants to carry their shields; while the Machaka, 
 
 (166) 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 167 
 
 battle-ax men, carried their own, and were liable at any 
 time to be sent a hundred miles on an errand, and expected 
 to run all the way.” 
 
 The intention of the party was to march overland along 
 the banks of the Chobe River until they struck the Zambesi 
 at the town of Sesheke, whither Sekeletu had sent orders 
 that thirty-five canoes of the first make should await them. 
 On the journey through the country to Sesheke they had to 
 pass through several villages. At each of these the people 
 ran out in great crowds, and on Sekeletu’s approach, sur- 
 rounded by his fine-looking body-guard, they at once pros- 
 trated themselves before him, touching their foreheads to the 
 ground in token of their devotion. An ox was slain and 
 roasted, while great calabashes of beer were handed around. 
 
 When they had gone about sixty miles on their journey, 
 they came upon Mpepe and some of his followers. Hear- 
 ing of Sekeletu’s proposed visit, Mpepe had formed a plot 
 against his life. This was, to engage him in a pretended 
 friendly council, then to make a sudden thrust with his bat- 
 tle-ax when Sekeletu least expected it, and cut off his head. 
 The wicked Mpepe would have succeeded in this plot had 
 it not been for Livingstone. Suspecting treachery, in spite 
 of Mpepe’s friendly pretensions, Livingstone kept his eyes 
 keenly open, as he had determined he would do, and ward- 
 ed off the blow intended for Sekeletu. Exasperated by this 
 dastardly attempt upon the life of their well-loved chief, 
 the body-guard of Sekeletu seized the treacherous Mpepe, 
 and, carrying him to a grove outside the village, dispatched 
 him with their spears. This had the effect of entirely de- 
 moralizing Mpepe’s followers, who fled in dismay, fearing 
 that they might share his fate. Mpepe’s death put an end 
 to all signs of rebellion. 
 
168 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 The travelers struck the Zambesi not at Sesheke, as had 
 been intended, but at a small village some miles above. 
 From this point Sekeletu detailed messengers to the head 
 man of the village of Sesheke, asking him to send up the 
 canoes. While awaiting the arrival of these boats the 
 men engaged in hunting, in order to procure meat to dry 
 for their use on the journey up the river. Although much 
 against his desire, Livingstone took charge of the hunting 
 party. He decided to undertake it rather than trust it to 
 the Makololo. They were pour marksmen, and would only 
 have wasted the powder had they gone alone, and powder 
 was very precious with the party. 
 
 The country surrounding the village was flat, diversified 
 here and there by cup-shaped mounds crowned with clus- 
 ters of trees. Vast herds of elands, zebras, antelopes, and 
 other game were daily scen upon the plains; but as they 
 were very shy, it was difficult to get near enough to kill 
 them with spears—hence Livingstone’s guns were of great 
 service. One day the hunters, headed by Livingstone, shot 
 a beautiful cow eland that was standing in the shade of a 
 small tree not far from the river-bank. “It was evident,” 
 says Livingstone, “that she had lately had her calf killed 
 by a lion, for there were five long, deep scratches on both 
 sides of her hind quarters, as if she had run to the rescue of 
 her calf, and the lion, leaving it, had attacked herself, but 
 was unable to pull her down. When lying on the ground 
 the milk flowing from her large udder showed that she 
 must have been seeking the shade from the distress its non- 
 removal in the natural manner must have caused her.” 
 Tears came to Livingstone’s eyes as he saw this innocent 
 and beautiful creature stretched out in her death-strugeles. 
 The Makololo, too, seemed touched by the pathetic sight. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 169 
 
 One of them, Labeolo by name, said to Livingstone: “ Do 
 you think that great man, Mr. Jesus, of whom you have 
 told us, and who is Lord of all the earth, as well as Master 
 of the beasts, will like it when he knows how we have slain 
 this beautiful creature of his who was doing us no harm?” 
 Although the life of the lovely creature had only been taken 
 to sustain their own, Livingstone felt the rebuke deeply. 
 On the other hand, he felt rejoiced at this proof of the good 
 effect his preaching had had upon the Makololo. They ev- 
 idently had a very clear idea of “the great man, Mr. Jesus,” 
 who condemned every act of cruelty. 
 
 The canoes having arrived, the party embarked and 
 moved up the broad, beautiful current of the Zambesi. It 
 was a delightful journey, and one that Livingstone enjoyed 
 more than any he had yet taken. At many places the river 
 was more than a mile wide; at others its surface was broken 
 by small] islands that arose fairy-like from out the glistening 
 expanse of water, bearing aloft miniature forests of mango 
 and palm. All along the banks were stretches of tall date- - 
 palms, with their gracefully curved fronds swaying in the 
 breeze. Every now and then from a cluster of these palms 
 a lofty palmyra shot many feet above the others, its feather- 
 like mass of foliage appearing ready to be detached and sent 
 whirling away by the first ungentle wind that blew over it. 
 There were also many luxuriant vines with brilliant ber- 
 ries, and everywhere wild flowers in prodigal abundance. 
 
 In many parts of the Zambesi shailows and rapids made 
 navigation at the dry season extremely difficult, and in some 
 places very dangerous. However, as copious rains had fallen 
 previous to their embarkation, Livingstone’s navy had no 
 trouble in getting along until they came to the Falls of 
 Gouva. Here the river narrowed to a width of seventy-five 
 
170 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 or eighty yards, and they had to disembark and carry the 
 canoes and supplies about a mile overland. While making 
 this detour they stopped part of a day at a small village a 
 half-mile or more from the river. Livingstone heard of a 
 man who, taking advantage of the elevated position of the 
 Gouva Falls, had led the water through a rudely construct- 
 ed canal into his garden for the purpose of irrigating it. 
 This man, thought Livingstone, must have been very supe- 
 rior to the rest of his race—doubtless had been much of a 
 traveler, and had somewhere during his travels gained the 
 idea of the canal. They were shown the garden, and could 
 see many signs of the rude trench that led to the river. In 
 the garden, although it had been neglected for many gener- 
 ations, they dug up some succulent roots shaped like pota- 
 toes. Indeed, the Makololo pronounced them potatoes at 
 first sight. They were quite waxy, and exceedingly bitter 
 to the taste. 
 
 One of the most beautiful spots visited was the valley of 
 the Barotse, in which lived a tribe of the same name. They 
 were of the same government as the Makololo, and most cor- 
 dially received Sekeletu and his party, joyfully hailing him 
 as their chief. This valley, remarkably fertile and covered 
 with vegetable growths in great variety, was about one hun- 
 dred and twenty-five miles in length and from fifteen to 
 thirty-five in width, with the Zambesi flowing almost direct- 
 ly through the center. As the Zambesi, like the Nile, had 
 its overflows at certain seasons, the valley of the Barotse, 
 being very low ground, was at such times thoroughly inun- 
 dated. To avoid the destruction of their villages the Ba- 
 rotse had built them on mounds beyond the reach of the ris- 
 ing waters. The idea of raising these mounds, which were 
 “necessarily artificial all through, was said to have been con- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 171 
 
 veyed to the Barotse by a former renowned chieftain of 
 theirs, whose son still survived. The name of this chief, as 
 also that of his son, was Santuru; and if report spoke truly, 
 he must have been almost as good and wise as the great 
 chief Sechele. Santuru had taught the Barotse, among 
 other things, the art of planting these mounds thickly with 
 trees, not only to strengthen them, but to afford shade from 
 the fierce rays of the sun. As this valley was entirely free 
 from the ravages of the deadly tsetse fly, the Barotse owned 
 an abundance of cattle. When the heavy rains began— 
 heralds of the approaching floods—the villagers would drive 
 their cattle off to the high ground, where they were safely 
 penned. As food was not plentiful here, they grew very 
 lean and ill-conditioned; and it was amidst great rejoicing 
 of the natives, as well as of the famished brutes themselves, 
 that they were conducted back to their rich pasturage 
 grounds on the subsidence of the floods. 
 
 So very fertile was this valley of the Barotse that Liy- 
 ingstone desired to experiment with it in raising wheat and 
 other grains; yet he soon discovered that it was so rich the 
 grain would run entirely to straw. ven the grass grew 
 twelve to fifteen feet high, with stalks as thick as a man’s 
 thumb. 
 
 While passing through the country of the Barotse, Liv- 
 ingstone was daily shocked and pained by the numberless 
 harrowing sights he was called upon to witness. He was 
 not only greeted by some of the most revolting aspects of 
 the slave-trade, but he also saw heathenism in its lowest and 
 most forbidding form. The utmost cruelty was shown by 
 children to parents, and by parents to children. The old 
 were made to do all the drudgery, while shocking murders 
 were of daily occurrence. It was not uncommon to see an 
 
172 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 old woman who could hardly stand beaten for something 
 she had failed to do—something doubtless far beyond the 
 poor old creature’s strength to do. 
 
 One day, as the party were journeying through a forest, 
 a girl not more than fifteen years of age came staggering 
 from behind a tree to meet them, and to beg for something 
 to eat. She was a most pitiable-looking object, being en- 
 tirely naked and emaciated to a mere skeleton. She had 
 run away to escape the terrible yoke of slavery. Living- 
 stone spoke kindly to her, and sought to detain her, so as 
 to do something for her if possible; but she grew alarmed, 
 thinking it was his intention to return her to her people, 
 who had tried to sell her to the slave-traders. Springing 
 away, She fled deeper into the woods in front of them. Two 
 days later they came upon her body, more than half de- 
 voured by a hyena, while that which remained was so hor- 
 ribly mangled they could scarcely recognize it. 
 
 At another time the travelers saw a large crowd of slaves 
 bound to each other by a heavy chain that bent them down 
 and cut into their flesh at every step taken. Livingstone 
 turned away sick at heart. He was powerless to prevent 
 such cruelties, but prevailed upon Sekeletu to remain in the 
 Barotse country long enough for him to preach half a dozen 
 times to these poor, ignorant, and sin-eursed people. He 
 had little hope of good results in so short a time, and in the 
 face of so much darkness, wickedness, and superstition; yet 
 he prayed that a portion at least of the precious seed might 
 take root and grow, if only with a feeble shoot. Although 
 all was uphill work, all stony ground, where it seemed that 
 the most vigorous seed could not struggle into life, he did 
 not lose heart altogether ; his “ wall of trust ” was too firmly 
 built to be battered even by the enemy’s heaviest fire, and 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 173 
 
 he too courageous a soldier to long harbor thought of defeat. 
 Because of this patient endurance, these mighty, steadfast 
 endeavors, his life grew better, braver, nobler, day by day. 
 Let us take the lesson of this example close to our hearts, 
 and keep it there, remembering always that 
 
 Highest aim and true endeavor, 
 Earnest work with patient might; 
 Hoping, trusting, singing ever; 
 Battling bravely for the right; 
 Loving God, all men forgiving, 
 Helping weaker feet to stand— 
 These will make a life worth living, 
 
 Make it noble, make it grand. 
 
 The Barotse seemed to care very little for what Living- 
 stone had to tell them. They were noisy, cowardly, cruel, 
 and ungrateful; yet they had some redeeming traits, prom- 
 inent among which was their hospitality. They received 
 the Makololo and their young chief with much rejoicing 
 and the slaughter of many oxen—this last being the high- 
 est proof they could give of the sincerity of their welcome. 
 They also endeavored by every means to show Livingstone 
 how pleased they were to have him in their country. 
 
 Livingstone would have liked to plant his mission station 
 somewhere among the Barotse, because he felt that so great 
 were their ignorance and darkness they needed the ev light- 
 enment of Christ’s gospel more than any tribe he had yet 
 come upon. But alas! owing to the overflow of the river, 
 the valley at certain seasons was extremely unhealthy, and 
 once a year was visited by the dread scourge, fever. 
 
 Livingstone staid among the Barotse as long as he could, 
 preaching, praying, and teaching, and left at last trusting 
 God for the result. 
 
174 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 The party made detours up the various tributaries of the 
 Zambesi, stopping at the towns, all of which were under Se- 
 keletu’s government. At each town the travelers were re- 
 ceived with enthusiastic demonstrations—the young chief 
 especially. Huge bonfires were built, the most deafening 
 noises were made on all kinds of rude instruments, while 
 the people hallooed and sung at the top of their voices. 
 But the greatest demonstration of all was the dance of wel- 
 come, in which the whole village joined, the men shouting 
 themselves hoarse and the women falling down from sheer 
 exhaustion. On one of these occasions, as Livingstone stood 
 near two young men who were dancing as though their lives 
 depended upon it, he overheard the following conversation. 
 
 “This is awfully hard work,” said one, “and I can’t really 
 see the good of it. What is the use, now, of dancing one’s 
 self nearly stiff just to welcome the chief, when we might 
 take some other way of showing how pleased we are that he 
 has condescended at Jast to visit us?” 
 
 “Tt is indeed very hard work,” agreed the other, “ but 
 then it isn’t without its profit. There is, in truth, very great 
 profit in it, as you will soon see. Why, just to think, man, 
 of the cows the chief will order to be slaughtered, and how 
 we will feast upon them! So, just remember this now, and 
 kick your legs as high as you can, for the higher you kick 
 the more chance there will be for you to attract the atten- 
 tion of the chief himself; and then who knows but what he 
 will be so gracious as to give you a whole ox all to yourself?” 
 
 As this feast of freshly slaughtered meat seemed to be the 
 one great object all the people had in view when they came 
 forth to dance before Sekeletu and his attendants, the young 
 chief, who well knew the long-established custom of his fa- 
 ther, did not disappoint them, He had at hand every means 
 
LIFE OF DAV:D LIVINGSTONE. 175: 
 
 of gratifying them. Years before his death Sebituane, with 
 that forethought so characteristic of him, had established 
 throughout his territory various cattle stations. These were 
 kept well filled, and placed in charge of men who thoroughly 
 understood their business. Thus Sekeletu found no trouble 
 in gratifying the desires of his people in this direction, and 
 at the conclusion of the dance the chief invariably gave the 
 order for a feast of slaughtered oxen to be made ready. 
 
 The dance alluded to is thus described by Livingstone: 
 “Tt consists of the men standing, nearly naked, in a circle, 
 with clubs or small battle-axes in their hands, and each 
 roaring at the loudest pitch of his voice, while they simul- 
 taneously lift one leg, stamp heavily twice with it, then lift 
 the other, and give one stamp with that; this is the only 
 movement in common. The arms and head are thrown 
 about also in every direction; and all this time the roaring 
 is kept up with the utmost possible vigor. The continued 
 stamping makes a cloud of dust around, and they leave a 
 deep ring in the ground where they have stood. If the scene 
 were witnessed in a lunatic asylum, it would be nothing 
 out of the way, and quite appropriate, even, as a means of 
 letting off the excessive excitement of the brain; but the 
 gray-headed men joined in the performance with as much 
 zest as others whose youth might be an excuse for making 
 the perspiration stream off their bodies with the exertion. 
 The women stood by clapping their hands; and occasionally 
 one advances into the circle composed of a hundred men, 
 makes a few movements, and then retires.” Sometimes, 
 again, the women joined in with as much spirit and ener- 
 gy as the men, and often had to be borne away limp and 
 nearly lifeless, having fallen through exhaustion. 
 
 Another dance engaged in.by this people was the tribal 
 
TRIBAL WAR DANCE, 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 177 
 
 war dance. This, however, was only indulged in on hostile 
 oceasions, or when the braves were going forth to battle. 
 Then spears and clubs and a most unsightly and ungainly 
 lot of head-gear were used, and all with frightful effect. 
 
 Hearing that Katonga—a town of the Barotse some dis- 
 tance above their capital, Naliele—was situated on high 
 ground, Livingstone went in that direction with a part of 
 the Makololo men. In the meantime Sekeletu, with his 
 more immediate attendants, remained at Naliele to take 
 part in a great feast that was to be given in his honor. 
 
 Livingstone’s object in going to Katonga was to find the 
 long-sought point for the mission station. His hopes, how- 
 ever, were again doomed to disappointment. Though the 
 situation at Katonga was on exceedingly high ground, and 
 the surrounding country was the most beautiful and fertile 
 he had yet seen, it was almost, if not equally, as unhealthy 
 as the valley of the Barotse. 
 
 The view from the high ground of Katonga was one of the 
 loveliest upon which Livingstone’s eyes had ever rested. It 
 commanded a stretch of country that lay in a beautiful 
 prairie-like expanse for miles on every side. In the mini- 
 ature valleys that nestled between the low, cup-shaped hills 
 thousands of noble animals were grazing—cattle of various 
 kinds—all belonging to the Barotse. Besides these were 
 vast herds of leches, a kind of antelope, feeding in the ut- 
 most security. Numberless arms of the river here glanced 
 off in different directions, adding yet greater beauty to the 
 scene. Livingstone was loath to turn his back upon a coun- 
 try so enchanting, but the intelligence gained that this Eden 
 had its serpent in the shape of the annual visits of the deadly 
 fever drove him away discouraged. 
 
 As the current of the river at Katonga ran fully five 
 12 
 
178 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 miles an hour, it suggested to Livingstone the increasing 
 rise of the country above. He therefore determined to ex- 
 tend his journey still farther up the stream. As Sekeletu 
 had sent runners ahead to tell the people of Livingstone, 
 he was everywhere received with the greatest delight. From 
 the story the runners spread the natives believed he was a 
 powerful chief who had displayed great condescension in 
 visiting them. They hailed his approach with exclama- 
 tions something like these: ‘ Behold! the great chief.” 
 “ Behold! he of the mighty power and of the strong hand 
 approacheth.” “See! here comes the lord, the great lion. 
 Let us make ready, O people, to receive him.” Livingstone 
 says of this expression, “the lord, the great lion,” which in 
 their language was rendered “ tau-e-tona:” “It soon came 
 to sound so much like ‘ saw-a-tone,’ or the great sow, that it 
 was all I could do to preserve my gravity whenever I heard 
 it.” 
 
 Livingstone continued his explorations as far as the 
 junction of the Leeba with the Zambesi. Not finding the 
 healthy spot fer which he looked, he gave up the quest for 
 the time being, and started to rejoin Sekeletu. 
 
 On their voyage down the river the Livingstone party un- 
 expectedly came upon the chief at the small town of Ma- 
 Sekeletu, which meant the mother of Sekeletu, and was so 
 named because it was the home of the young chief’s mother. 
 Having remained here several days, and being most royally 
 entertained by Sekeletu’s mother, the party began their re- 
 turn to Linyanti, which they reached after an absence of 
 nine weeks. 
 
CHAPTER XIIl: 
 
 LIVINGSTONE AGAIN LABORS AMONG THE MAKOLOLO—HIS LETTEb 
 TO HIS CHILDREN—THE START FROM LINYANTI FOR THE COAST 
 —ARRIVAL AT SESHEKE — INCIDENTS — THE JOURNEY UP THE 
 ZAMBESI — GLIMPSES OF AFRICAN NATURAL HISTORY— MANEN- 
 KO, THE AMAZON CHIEFTAINESS—TWO NATIVE BELLES — AP- 
 PROACHING THE STRONGHOLD OF THE SLAVE TRAFFIC. 
 
 UR travelers reached Linyanti from their explora- 
 tions in the river country in September, 1853. Liv. 
 ingstone did not at once begin his preparations for the long 
 journey to the coast, as it might be supposed he would have 
 done, considering his great anxiety to be off. With all his 
 ardor he had much discretion and a happy faculty of keeping 
 cool and patient under the most tantalizing circumstances. 
 He was still suffering from the effects of his former attack 
 of fever, and considerably prostrated from the fatigues of 
 his recent journey up the river. He therefore determined 
 to stay in Linyanti until he had recovered his usual health 
 and spirits. While thus waiting he engaged in teaching the 
 Makololo. At this period he wrote the following tender 
 and touching letter to his dearly loved little ones so far 
 away: 
 SEKELETU’s Town, LinyANTI, Oct. 2, 1853. 
 My Dear Robert, Agnes, Thomas, and Oswell: Here is another lit- 
 tle letter for you all. I should like to see you much more than 
 write to you, and speak with my tongue rather than with my pen; 
 but we are far from each other—very, very far. Here are Seipone 
 and Meriye, and others who saw you as the first white children they 
 ever looked at. Meriye came the other day and brought a round 
 (179) 
 
180 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 basket for Nannie. She made it of the leaves of the palmyra. Oth- 
 ers put me in mind of you all by calling me Rananee and Rarobert, 
 and there is a little Thomas in the town; and when I think of you 
 I remember, though I am far off, that Jesus, our good and gracious Je- 
 sus, is ever near both you and me, and then I pray to him to bless you 
 and make you good. He is ever near. Remember this, if you feel 
 angry or naughty—Jesus is near you, and sees you, and he is good 
 and kind. When he was among men those who heard him speak 
 
 ? 
 
 said, “ Never man spake like this man;” and we now say, “ Never 
 
 You see little Zouga is carried on mamma’s 
 
 did man love like him.” 
 
 bosom. You are taken care of by Jesus with as much care as mam- 
 ma takes of Zouga. He is always watching you and keeping you in 
 safety. It is very bad to sin, to do any naughty things, or to speak 
 angry or naughty words before him. 
 
 My dear children, take him as your Guide, your Helper, your 
 Friend and Saviour through life. Whatever you are troubled about, 
 ask him to help you. Our God is good. We thank him that we 
 have such a Saviour and Friend as he is. Now you are little, but 
 you will not always be so; hence you must learn to read and write 
 and work. All clever men can both read and write, and Jesus needs 
 clever men to do his work. Would you not like to work for him 
 among men? Jesus is wishing to send his gospel to all nations, and 
 he needs clever men to do this. Would you like to serve him? 
 Well, you must learn now, and not get tired learning. After some 
 time you will like learning better than playing, but you must play 
 too, in order to make your bodies strong, that you may be able to 
 serve Jesus. 
 
 T am glad to learn that you go to the academy. I hope you are 
 learning fast. Don’t speak Scotch. It is not so pretty as English. 
 Is the Tau learning to read with mamma? _ I hope you are all kind 
 to mamma. I saw a poor woman in a chain with many others, up 
 at the Barotse. She had a little child, and both she and the child 
 were very thin. See how kind Jesus was to you! No one can put 
 you in chains unless you become bad. If, however, you learn bad 
 ways, beginning only by saying bad words, or by doing little bad 
 things, Satan will have you in the chains of sin, and you will be 
 hurried on in his bad ways till you are put in the dreadful place 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 181 
 
 which God hath prepared for him and all who are like him. Pray 
 to Jesus to deliver you from sin, give you new hearts, and make you 
 his children. Kiss Zouga, mamma, and each other for me. 
 
 Your ever affectionate father, D, LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 About the middle of October Livingstone began to make 
 ready for the long and tedious journey before him. Seke- 
 letu gave him all the aid in his power; indeed, he seemed as 
 anxious for the success of the undertaking as Livingstone 
 himself. The latter had made clear to the chief the impor- 
 tance of the expedition and the advantage that the opening 
 up of such a highway of traffic would prove to his people. 
 But we must do Sekeletu the justice to say that he was act- 
 uated as much by love and admiration for Livingstone as 
 by a desire of benefit from the enterprise. 
 
 The most of Sekeletu’s people warmly favored the expe- 
 dition, and he had no trouble in getting men to accompany 
 Livingstone. Many more presented themselves than it was 
 necessary to take. Still, despite these promising signs, there 
 were some croakers, principally old men and women, who 
 believed that these modern ideas and innovations would 
 surely bring death and destruction wherever meddled with. 
 At a picho, or conference, held by the head men of the 
 tribe, preparatory to Livingstone’s departure, one of these 
 old croakers piped out, “‘ Where is this man about to take 
 these of thy people, O chief?” pointing to the men who had 
 been detailed to go with Livingstone. ‘ Dost thou know? 
 Doth any one know? Can he tell himself? Blood! blood! 
 I smell blood. It is on his garments and theirs! Beware! 
 
 1”? 
 
 beware! beware, O chief!” How long he would have talked 
 in this strain it was not given him to show, for at this point 
 the chief indignantly commanded him to leave the assem- 
 bly, and all present greeted him with grunts of dissatisfac- 
 
 tion and hisses and groans of disdain. His words had ne 
 
182 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 other effect upon any one, except a few old croakers like 
 himself. 
 
 It had been decided that twenty-seven picked men should 
 accompany Livingstone, all of them young and hardy. 
 About one-half of them were Barotse men. As these were 
 acquainted with many of the tribes to the north, it was sug- 
 gested by Sekeletu to Livingstone that they would be of far 
 ereater value to him on this stage of his journey than the 
 Makololo, though the Makololo were more desirable in 
 every other respect. Livingstone preferred that none but 
 Makololo men should go with him; but, save in one or two 
 instances, the Barotse proved very clever and trusty, quite 
 unlike the majority of their race. 
 
 The only question propounded to Livingstone by the Ma- 
 kololo that showed any thing like a misgiving in regard to 
 the expedition was: ‘‘In the event of your death, will not 
 the white people blame us for having allowed you to go 
 away into an unhealthy and an unknown country of ene- 
 inies?” Livingstone hastened to reussure them by declar- 
 ing that there were none of his friends who would think of 
 blaming them for such a thing; but to make the Makololo 
 altogether easy on this point, he would leave with their chief 
 a book, which in case he was lost would explain to his friends 
 all about the journey. Livingstone instructed Sekeletu to 
 send this book to Mr. Moffat if he should not return by a 
 given time. The book alluded to was a volume of journals, 
 and it was most unfortunate that it should have been lost, as 
 afterward happened. Sekeletu kept it as Livingstone had 
 requested. As the specified time passed away, and much 
 more, and there was uo sign of the brave missionary, not a 
 word from him, the young chief in despair delivered the 
 book to a trader, requesting him to carry it direct to Mr. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 183 
 
 Moffat. The book never reached its destination, nor could 
 any trace of the trader be found. Livingstone always deeply 
 regretted the loss of these journals, as in addition to accounts 
 of his travels, missionary labors, and explorations, they con- 
 tained many valuable descriptions of the habits of numer- 
 ous wild animals, birds, ete. 
 
 Before finally entering upon this perilous journey Living: 
 stone naturally felt apprehensive, but not once did he shrink 
 from the undertaking. To one of his nature there was no 
 such thing as turning back when once his face had been 
 firmly set in any direction. He wrote to his brother-in-law, 
 Robert Moffat, at this time: “I shall open up a path into 
 the interior, if I perish in the attempt.” Grand, stirring 
 words these—words that plainly show the mighty determi- 
 nation that moved him, the unconquerable spirit that car- 
 ried him forward. Again he asks with telling force, “ Can 
 the love of Christ not carry the missionary where the slave- 
 trade carries the trader?”” Ah! truly it could in his case, 
 and it did. His last prayer on leaving was: “ May God in 
 his merey permit me to do something for the cause of Christ 
 in these dark places of the earth! But should I fail in this 
 undertaking, O God, be a Father to the fatherless and a 
 husband to the widow, for Jesus’ sake.” 
 
 Although the preparations for this journey had taken 
 Livingstone some little time, they were few in number and 
 simple in details. The baggage was reduced to as small a 
 compass as possible, and consisted of only such articles as 
 the party were absolutely compelled to have. Indeed, at the 
 last moment many things were left which it seemed they 
 could not do without; but Livingstone-knew that it was al- 
 most as bad to start out on such a journey overloaded as it 
 was to go with nothing at all. The outfit consisted of ten 
 
184 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 or twelve pounds of biscuit, two or three pounds of tea, 
 twenty pounds of coffee, and about half as much sugar. 
 Besides these provisions, there was a tin canister containing 
 a few pieces of cloth and a small collection of beads, as pro- 
 pitiatory presents for the unfriendly tribes they should meet 
 on the way. In regard to this matter of presents, Living- 
 stone would have liked to go better prepared, but he had 
 no means of his own to enlarge the supply, and he was un- 
 willing to allow Sekeletu to do so. If his slender store 
 should prove insufficient, which he did not doubt, he trusted 
 in a beneficent Providence to show him another way out of 
 the difficulty. A second canister contained a small stock 
 of medicines, a nautical almanac, Thomson’s Logarithm 
 Tables, a Bible, and a lined journal. Much has been said 
 in praise of this lined journal. Every page of it was an 
 eloquent witness of Livingstone’s patient and painstaking 
 nature. It was truly a wonderful book, being a “ strongly 
 bound quarto volume with a lock and key.” Nearly every 
 line of the writing within was as neat and clear as though 
 it were lithographed. Occasionally, however, there was a 
 page with the “letters beginning to sprawl,” or a blot or 
 two here and there where the unruly pen had refused to 
 carry the ink smoothly. Doubtless these were done at 
 times when, we are told, he “could neither think nor speak, 
 nor tell any one’s name, possibly not even his own if it had 
 been asked him; at times when he felt the fiery tongues of 
 the fever lapping up every atom of his vitality. But to go 
 on with the outfit: there was a change or so of clothing for 
 Livingstone, and a suit each for the Makololo men when 
 they should reach civilized life. Their stock of fire-arms 
 and ammunition consisted of three muskets, two rifles, one 
 double-barreled gun, five or six pounds of powder, and about 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 185 
 
 one hundred and fifty pounds of ball and shot. A small 
 gypsy tent, a horse-rug, two blankets for Livingstone’s use, 
 a magic lantern, and a sextant and compass, completed the 
 equipments. At the last moment Sekeletu gave Living- 
 stone two or three elephant tusks, which he was obliged t« 
 take, or else deeply wound the generous young chief. It was 
 fortunate that he took them, as it afterward proved, for 
 they were the means of providing the starving party with 
 more than one meal. 
 
 Surely never before did an expedition of such vast impor- 
 tance start out with so little preparation; but what this lit- 
 tle band lacked in the quantity of its appurtenances it-made 
 up in the quality of its members. They were all men of 
 pluck and endurance, and were indued with a determina- 
 tion to follow their brave leader wherever he might lead 
 them, even to the death. 
 
 The party left Linyanti on the third day of November, 
 1853. Nearly seven thousand people assembled to see them 
 off, and made the ground fairly tremble with their shouts 
 as the line of brave and sturdy men went filing by. The 
 route was to be first by the Chobe to its junction with the 
 Zambesi, over much of the way Livingstone had previously 
 gone with Sekeletu, to its junction with the Leeba; thence 
 along the latter river until the countries of the Lobale and 
 the Londa were reached, the one on the right bank of the 
 river and the other on the left: at this point they were to 
 leave the canoes and make the rest ef the journey on the 
 backs of the oxen which Sekeletu sent along for the pur- 
 pose. Sekeletu accompanied the expedition as far as Ma- 
 nuku, the town at which Livingstone had first met Sebitu- 
 ane. Here he left them, after a most aflecting scene with 
 Livingstone. 
 
186 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 The average speed made by the canoes on their way down 
 the Chobe to Sesheke was five miles an hour, the men who 
 were leading the oxen along the bank regulating their prog- 
 ress by that of the boats. But of course neither the party 
 on the water nor that on the land could keep up this rate 
 all the time, nor did they attempt to travel steadily through 
 the day. The general plan was to paddle or march from 
 six to eleven o’clock in the morning, and from four to seven 
 in the afternoon; but sometimes, owing to different control- 
 ling circumstances, these hours were varied. 
 
 At Sesheke the travelers met with a warm reception from 
 Moriantsane, a brother-in-law of Sebituane, and the head 
 man of that village. Livingstone had met Moriantsane on 
 his previous visit with Sekeletu, as they were returning down 
 the river, and had been greatly impressed with him. In 
 some respects he reminded him of Sebituane, though he 
 had nothing like that great chief’s intelligence or tact in 
 managing affairs. Moriantsane supplied them with milk, 
 meal, honey, and other delicacies, and sent messengers up 
 the river to the different villages, with instructions to see 
 that the people had food ready for Livingstone and his at- 
 tendants. 
 
 Livingstone preached to the natives several times while 
 at Sesheke. His favorite place of instruction was under an 
 enormous camel-thorn tree that stood near the bank of the 
 river. He had no trouble in getting together an audience: 
 the moment it was announced that he was going to preach 
 men, women, and children began filing in long lines from 
 their huts, all intent on getting there as soon as possible, 
 and all moving forward in the best order. This was one 
 of the principal things Moriantsane had sought to impress 
 upon his people when he heard of Livingstone’s expected 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 187 
 
 return—that they must preserve the utmost quiet and at- 
 tention throughout his stay, especially when he was instruct- 
 ing them. 
 
 Once while Livingstone was preaching, Moriantsane’s 
 keen eyes saw two young men who were busily working on 
 a skin instead of listening to the missionary. The indig- 
 nant old man rose up in the assembly, and hurled his spear 
 straight at the offending young men. Had they not been 
 previously warned, so that they dodged just in time, he 
 would surely have killed one of them. After that the peo- 
 ple took care to cease every employment the moment Liv- 
 ingstone began to speak. 
 
 While at Sesheke the explorers had a novel encounter 
 with alligators, and one that came near proving fatal to a 
 brave Makololo man. The river was fairly alive with the 
 hideous creatures, and they seemed to grow bolder and more 
 savage as their numbers increased. Many poor women and 
 children, and even men, had been devoured in the presence 
 of their terror-stricken relatives. The children seemed to 
 be the alligators’ special object of prey: they were general- 
 ly caught as they went to the river for water. One after- 
 noon as Livingstone and three or four of his men were 
 erossing the river in a canoe, they were attacked by an al- 
 ligator of unusual size. A sudden stroke of the huge scaly 
 tail sent one of the men who was not on his guard head- 
 foremost into the river. Immediately the monster brute 
 wheeled around, and as the poor man came up caught him 
 by the thigh. Livingstone shut his eyes in horror, for he 
 thought the man’s last hour had come, there not being 
 a gun or weapon of any kind in the boat with which to 
 assist him. But the Makololo was not only brave, he had 
 great presence of mind. Even while in the alligator’s grasp 
 
188 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 he had managed to reach a small, square, ragged-edged jav- 
 elin he wore at his belt. With this he dealt the animal a 
 sudden and tremendous blow behind the shoulder. Writh- 
 ing with the pain the alligator instantly let go, and began 
 furiously lashing the water all around with his tail. The 
 instant the man felt himself released he made a straight 
 dive, and, coming up out of the water a little distance 
 away, was hauled into the canoe. He was unhurt, save by 
 the alligator’s teeth upon his thigh, and this wound was 
 more painful than serious. 
 
 Moving on up the Zambesi, our party—thanks to Mori- 
 antsane—found a warm welcome from the people of the 
 villages, and also food in abundance. This generally con- 
 sisted of meats and fruits of various kinds. Many of the 
 fruits were pleasant and refreshing to the taste, and cu- 
 rious and interesting in their formation. One was about 
 the size of an orange and nearly of the same color. Inside 
 it was composed of a number of seeds or pins, something 
 like those of the orange, “imbedded in layers of a pleasant 
 juicy pulp.” Livingstone afterward learned that from the 
 seed and rind of this fruit the natives derived a substance 
 not unlike a variety of nux vomica, which in turn was con- 
 verted into a capital substitute for strychnine. Another 
 fruit, called mabole, was about the size of the date, and 
 when stripped of its seed and dried had much the appear- 
 ance of the date.- In this state it was most palatable, with 
 a flavor of strawberries, strange to say. When thus dried 
 it could be kept a long time, and our travelers found it a 
 serviceable addition to their stock of edibles. Still another 
 of these fruits was the mamosho, which has been already de- 
 scribed. 
 
 The course of the party up the Zambesi is thus detailed 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 189 
 
 by Livingstone: “‘ When under way, our usual. procedure 
 is this: We get up a little before five in the morning; it 
 is then beginning to dawn. While I am dressing, coffee is 
 made; and having filled my pannikin, the remainder is 
 handed to my companions, who eagerly partake of the re- 
 freshing beverage. The servants are busy loading the ca- 
 noes while the principal men are sipping the coflee; and 
 that being soon over, we embark. The next two hours are 
 the most pleasant part of the day’s sail. The men paddle 
 away most vigorously. The Barotse, being a tribe of boat- 
 men, have large, deeply developed chests and shoulders, 
 with indifferent lower extremities. They often engage in 
 loud scolding of each other, in order to relieve the tedium 
 of the work. About eleven we land, and eat any meat 
 which may have remained from the previous evening meal, 
 or a biscuit with honey, and drink water. After an hour’s 
 rest we again embark, and I cower under an umbrella. 
 The heat is oppressive, and being weak from the last attack 
 of fever, I cannot land and keep the camp supplied with 
 fresh meat. The men, being quite uncovered in the sun, 
 perspire profusely, and in the afternoon begin to stop, as if 
 waiting for the canoes which have been left behind. Some- 
 times we reach a sleeping-place two hours before sunset, 
 and, all being troubled with languor, we gladly remain for 
 the night. Coffee again, and a biscuit, or a piece of coarse 
 bread made of maize-meal or that of the native corn, make 
 up the bill of fare for the evening, unless we have been fort- 
 unate enough to kill something, when we boil a potful of 
 flesh. This is done by cutting it into long strips and pour- 
 ing in water until it is covered. When that is boiled dry 
 the meat is considered ready.” 
 
 Along the river-banks they saw many trees of new and 
 
190 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 pleasing varieties. Some of these Livingstone succeeded in 
 classifying; others puzzled him greatly. Numerous inter- 
 esting birds, plants, and vines also attracted his notice. 
 Some of them were new and strange to him, while others 
 seemed as old friends. Among the birds that he readily 
 recognized were pigeons, plovers, and turtle-doves. The 
 low, sad, yet exceedingly sweet plaint of these doves, cud- 
 dled together in the sweeping branches of the trees, sounded 
 very familiar, as did also the clamorous cry of the plovers 
 wheeling overhead. Soon from among the latter Living- 
 stone detected an alien sound, and one that struck oddly 
 upon his ear. It was a harsh, metallic-like call that sound- 
 ed like the tap of a hammer upon a copper kettle. After a 
 time he discovered that this peculiar ery came from a bird 
 known among the natives as the setula tsipi, or hammering- 
 wire 
 
 a name that was indeed appropriate. It was of the 
 plover species, though a little smaller than the average size 
 of that bird. Livingstone also discovered something else 
 in regard to the hammering-wire—that it was identical with 
 the bird so famous for its close friendship with the crocodile 
 of the Nile. The reader will doubtless recall some of the 
 stories of how this bird has been known to enter between 
 the distended jaws of the crocodile, and there feed upon the 
 many tormenting insects that attach themselves to the in- 
 side of the animal’s mouth. Because of this friendly aid 
 the crocodile looks upon the little hammering-wire in the 
 light of a benefactor, and never willingly molests it in any 
 way, sometimes lying for hours with widely open jaws, pa- 
 tiently waiting for the bird to get through and come out. 
 One of these birds being shot by the party, Livingstone 
 made a closer examination of it, and found growing from 
 the top of its wing at the shoulder a sharp spur yery much 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 19] 
 
 like that of a cock’s, and about the same size. This he 
 readily inferred was given to the bird as a means of de- 
 fense. He discovered many other beautiful and interesting 
 things in regard to the different birds and their habits, 
 thereby contributing to the useful facts of African natural 
 history. 
 
 In some places, principally where the banks were steep, 
 Livingstone came upon several strange birds’-nests. Some 
 of them were hanging from the midst of low brambles, some 
 were pendent from the trailing tangles of vines, while oth- 
 ers were in holes in the sand which had been dug out by 
 the birds’ sharp bills. Sometimes the mother-birds were on 
 the nests, sometimes the eggs were exposed. Three of the 
 birds that thus built their nests in the sand were the bee- 
 eater (a species of the sand-martin), the king-fisher, and a 
 bird for which Livingstone could get no name, it being in 
 shape somewhat like the pigeon, only its plumage was not 
 quite so brilliant or so glossy. In the nests of the bee-eater 
 were found from four to seven eggs, pure white in color, and 
 about the size of a wren’s egg. The eggs of the king-fisher 
 were of the same whiteness, only they were more globular 
 in shape. 
 
 Livingstone saw quite a number of white cockatoos. If 
 one of the party chanced to go near the limb on which a 
 cockatoo was sitting, he would at once show fight. Every 
 feather on his body seemed to stand out, while the crest at 
 the top of his head, which can be opened and shut at pleas- 
 ure, would be thrown forward and backward with a rapid 
 movement, his small eyes all the while sparkling and flash- 
 ing like diamonds, and his voice ringing out in harsh and 
 defiant screams almost human. And yet he isa very pret: 
 ty bird when in repose. 
 
192 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Pigeons and canaries were seen in large numbers, the 
 former being vivid green in color, and somewhat larger than 
 our common pigeon, Along the Leeambye valley many 
 ‘anaries were caught and tamed by the natives, and charm- 
 ing little singers they proved to be. Tame pigeons were 
 also seen hopping about the yards of the huts. This great 
 love for birds, Livingstone learned, had been instilled into 
 the people by that clever and intelligent chief, Santuru, 
 who had shown them how to construct their tree-covered 
 mounds. At one of the villages Livingstone was aston- 
 ished to see a miniature menagerie. In it were various 
 kinds of wild animals and birds, all getting along in per- 
 fect harmony. 
 
 A queer bird that was often seen, and interested Living- 
 stone particularly, was the snake-bird—so called because it 
 swam about in the water with its whole body submerged, ex- 
 cept its head and neck, which it darted from side to side 
 like the movements of the snake. 
 
 One great enemy of the birds on land was the boomslang, 
 or tree-snake, which made sad havoe among the smaller 
 birds especially. Attention was generally drawn toward the 
 spot where the boomslang lay waiting to seize its prey by 
 the affrighted chatter and shrill screams of all the birds in 
 that neighborhood. They seemed either unwilling or un- 
 able to flee from the impending danger. Doubtless they 
 were paralyzed through fascination. The boomslang’s usu- 
 al mode of procedure was to select a limb of a convenient 
 tree, around which it coiled all but its head and several 
 inches of the upper part of its body: these it held erect, 
 ready to dart out after any bird that came within its reach. 
 
 Among the aquatic birds Livingstone noticed flamingoes, 
 herons, snipes, spoonbills, cranes, geese, and others—too 
 
Mie (ia 
 il Hany 
 
 SPOONBILL AND COMPANION BIRDS. 
 
194 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 many to name. The whale-headed stork was the most 
 singular bird of all that he had seen, and strangely at- 
 tracted him. He first saw two of these birds standing on 
 a little island-like strip near the bank of the river, and 
 running their large, broad, ungainly bills in and out of the 
 tall, rank grasses that grew along the waters’ edge, in search 
 of fish and snakes. These bills were shaped very much 
 like the body of a whale, from which resemblance they took 
 their name. At the end a sharp hook came down over the 
 front part of the bill, turning inward. This hook the bird 
 used to tear open the carcasses of dead animals, whose 
 entrails it devours, leaving the other portions untouched. 
 The rest of the bird’s body resembled that of the common 
 stork, only its legs were longer. Livingstone’s men tried 
 to get nearer to the birds they saw, but they were too quick 
 for them. They next tried to get a shot at them: this also 
 the cunning storks circumvented by suddenly wheeling 
 straight up into the air, and then to the thick branches of 
 a cluster of trees, where they remained until the enemy were 
 out of sight. In color the whale-headed stork is brown, 
 with spots of a darker shade intermingled in some places 
 with a grayish spot here and there, each feather of the wings | 
 being tipped with gray and white. The following in con- 
 nection with this curious bird is related of Mr. Pethrick, 
 the great English traveler: “ Having traveled fifteen hun- 
 dred miles up the Nile, he was hunting one day, and among 
 other odd creatures which inhabit that region discovered 
 these singular birds. He was anxious to take some of 
 them alive, that he might send them to London; but their 
 long legs carried them through the swamps so rapidly that 
 he found it impossible to take them. They kept in flocks, 
 and if fired at flew up from the ground, and, after circling 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 195 
 
 around for awhile, would light on the tallest trees and re- 
 main there until the hunter was gone. Their nests are on 
 the ground near the water, and perhaps surrounded by it, 
 and are of the rudest kind. For two years Mr. Pethrick 
 labored to raise some of these birds by taking the young 
 from the nest, and raising them by hand, or by hatching 
 the eggs under hens, but failed. At length he obtained 
 some very fresh eggs, and having a hen about to set, he 
 took part of her eggs away and put in the eggs of the bird. 
 The hen did not seem to know that she had been imposed 
 upon, and took her seat in good faith. In due time she 
 came off with her brood, and among the number were five 
 with enormous bills which seemed to puzzle her greatly. 
 But she soon found that their conduct was much stranger 
 than their looks; for cluck and scratch as much as she would 
 they paid no attention, but seemed bent upon rushing into 
 the pond which the negro boys had dug and filled with wa- 
 ter. The mother-hen was greatly distressed, but they went 
 their own way; and she took the rest of the brood and went 
 hers. The birds were fed on fish, and when the opportu- 
 nity offered they were shipped to England. Every care 
 was taken on the voyage to keep them in health; but they 
 sadly missed their home and food, and one died, then an- 
 other, and finally a third. Two, however, survived. A 
 pond was given them in the Zoological Gardens, and fish 
 in abundance supplied, and they soon revived. The scien- 
 tific name of the bird is Baleniceps Rex, which means the 
 whale-headed king.” 
 
 Livingstone also saw a countless variety of beautiful and 
 brilliant wild-flowers, which gave him opportunity for test- 
 ing his botanical knowledge. Much of the flora being new 
 to him, it sometimes puzzled him greatly; but he soon had 
 
196 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 quite a number of rare plants pressed and classed into a 
 collection that did him much credit. Once, while passing 
 a certain point on the river-bank, he came upon one of the 
 most beautiful trees he thought he had ever seen. It was 
 in full bloom, and the fragrance was delicious. It remind- 
 ed him of his own loved hawthorn-hedges at home, only the 
 flowers of this African tree were as large as great dog-roses, 
 and the haws “the size of boys’ marbles.” 
 
 All along their journey up the Zambesi they found the 
 crocodiles numerous; indeed, at some points they had great 
 difficulty in getting past them. The young ones seemed 
 almost as savage as the old ones, and would bite furiously 
 at the spears of the natives when thrust in among them. 
 The men with Livingstone occasionally hunted for croco- 
 dile-eggs, which were a great delicacy when prepared in a 
 certain way. 
 
 As long as they were in Sekeletu’s territory our party 
 fared well, people and head men vying with each other in 
 showing them attention. The manner of these Makololo 
 people, when bestowing benefits, was so hearty and so polite 
 in every respect that Livingstone could not but mark the 
 contrast between them and the other tribes among whom he 
 had lived—even the friendly Bechuanas, who, it must be 
 said, were as much noted for their avarice as for their peace- 
 ableness. If an ox was given by the Makololo, they would 
 say to Livingstone with the greatest simplicity: “Here, 
 father, is a little bread for you.” On the other hand, when 
 the Bechuanas presented a goat they would ery with a loud 
 voice and a great flourish: “ Behold! behold! an ox!” 
 
 On the 27th day of December the party reached the Lee- 
 ba at its junction with the Zambesi. The desired route was 
 now as near due west as they could possibly make it. As 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 197 
 
 the Leeba seemed to flow from that direction, they passed 
 on up that river. They soon began to meet with cool and 
 somewhat equivocal receptions from the various chiefs, the 
 reason being that they were fast approaching the extreme 
 boundaries of Sekeletu’s territory. In a little while they 
 would be out of it entirely: then who could tell what dread 
 evils would lie in their path? 
 
 At the village of Manenko they found the people gov- 
 erned by a female chief of the same name. This was in the 
 country of the Balonda, when they were well out of Seke- 
 letu’s domains. When they reached Manenko’s village the 
 chieftainess was making a visit of state to a neighboring 
 town; but she heard of their arrival before they had been 
 many days in her capital, and sent a very dictatorial message 
 to them to the effect that they must remain there until she 
 chose to come, as she wished to see them. Accompanying 
 the message she sent as a present a basket of manioc-roots, 
 doubtless thinking thereby to conciliate them, and that it 
 would serve as a salve for the rather sharp sting of her im- 
 perious command. Livingstone neither cared to remain in 
 the town nor to show himself in the least swayed by the 
 haughty will of the domineering Manenko; so he sent her 
 word that his time was precious, and that after the neces- 
 sary season of rest he would push on whether she came or 
 not. The people of the village were thunder-struck at Liv- 
 ingstone’s boldness, and heard in dismay that he intended 
 to go on in opposition to Manenko’s command. They hal 
 been so accustomed to obey her without questioning, know- 
 ing her imperious nature, that they were terrified to think 
 of the consequences to Livingstone should he persist in dis- 
 regarding her message. They were literally overwhelmed 
 with surprise at the turn affairs next took. Catching from 
 
198 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE.. 
 
 the drift of Livingstone’s reply to her haughty command 
 something of the nature of the man with whom she had to 
 deal, and being also nearly consumed with curiosity in re- 
 gard to him through the several reports that had reached 
 her, Manenko entirely changed her tactics. Her next com- 
 munication was in the form of a polite request that the 
 whole party should visit her at the village where she was 
 then, and offering all kinds of inducements to them if they 
 would come. But this Livingstone also declined, for, as he 
 had already spent four days in Manenko’s village, he had 
 no more time to waste. 
 
 As they were encamped near another village, the chief, 
 Sheakonda, with two of his wives, three of his sons, and a 
 score or more of his people, visited them. All were greatly 
 struck with Livingstone’s appearance, and wanted to fall 
 down on their knees to him, thinking him a mighty chief 
 from over the wonderful sea of which they had heard. 
 Their reason for thinking he had come from beyond the sea 
 was that his face was so white and his hair so light and 
 straight that the sea-water had washed the color out of one 
 and the kink out of the other as he came swimming through 
 it. This revealed in part the fearful state of darkness and 
 ignorance in which they dwelt. Livingstone was too noble 
 to take advantage of their superstition and turn it to his 
 own purposes, as many might have been tempted to do un- 
 der the circumstances; so he explained to them as well as 
 he could that he had not come through the water of the sea, 
 but over it by means of a great ship—which he tried to de- 
 scribe to them—and that his face had always been white 
 and his hair straight. But he could make nothing clear, 
 and was forced to receive their homage. 
 
 Sheakonda and his people were most frightful-looking ob- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 199 
 
 jects. When they first approached the camp Livingstone 
 and his entire party believed that they had come for a hos- 
 tile attack, and began preparing for it as well as they could; 
 but the chief and his companions soon convinced thenr of 
 their friendly intentions. They were almost nude, having 
 only a piece of the skin of some animal bound about the 
 waist. From head to foot their bodies were tattooed in all 
 kinds of hideous devices, their teeth were sharpened off to 
 points, and their hair dressed straight up from their heads 
 and made to stand out stiff with rancid animal fat. But in 
 spite of their hideous looks, they were inclined to be very 
 friendly, and immediately on reaching the camp greeted Liv- 
 ingstone and his men with assurances of their peaceful in- 
 tentions. The chief displayed much hospitality, inviting 
 Livingstone and his head men to the village, and promising 
 to give them as much manioc-root as they could eat. The 
 wives of the chief, however, did not seem so generously in- 
 clined, and had evidently come to camp with an eye single 
 to business. ach brought a basket of manioc-roots, which 
 she signified a desire to exchange for butter or for any 
 kind of fat the party might have with them. This fat they 
 were anxious to possess in order to polish up their bodies, 
 as well as to dress their hair anew. Desiring to be on the 
 best of terms with them, Livingstone requested his men to 
 make the exchange, though they could ill spare what little 
 fat remained from the last animal they had slain. They 
 had a pound or two of butter, which they had with difficul- 
 ty obtained at one of the villages through which they had 
 passed. Livingstone also directed his men to give a portion 
 of this to the women, who were overjoyed when they saw it. 
 The moment the elder of the two wives received the butter 
 she began rubbing herself with it, not waiting to get away 
 
200 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 from the camp. The other, however, was more deliberate. 
 She waited until she was some distance away, then stopped 
 and rubbed the butter on her body with as much relish as 
 the other had shown. She seemed to be the chief's favorite 
 wife, and the belle of the village as well. The style she as- 
 sumed was enough to have put to the blush the most fin- 
 ished drawing-room young lady of to-day. Around her an- 
 kles were various iron rings, to which were attached small 
 bits of sheet-iron, with here and there a fragment of brass. 
 These, striking together as she walked, gave forth a tinkling 
 sound, the effect of which she tried to inerease by a mine- 
 ing stride. This amused Livingstone greatly, and he com- 
 pared it to the jaunty step he had seen some of the dragoons 
 at home affect when off duty and passing the inspection of 
 feminine eyes. 
 
 Livingstone found Sheakonda “a fine specimen of the un- 
 sophisticated savage.” He was struck with awe and much 
 disturbed in his mind when Livingstone read to him a chap- 
 ter from the New Testament, and explained it to him 
 through an interpreter. He wanted to learn more, and en- 
 treated Livingstone to remain longer and teach him. It 
 was one of the sorest trials through which the good mission- 
 ary had been called to pass to have to refuse him. The 
 only way he could reconcile himself to the refusal which 
 circumstances forced him to make was to form the resolu- 
 tion to return at some future day, should life and strength 
 be spared to him, for the purpose of missionary labor among 
 Sheakonda’s people. 
 
 On reaching the confluence of the Leeba and the Makon- 
 da, one of Livingstone’s men picked up a small piece of steel 
 watch-chain. This caused a hope to spring up in Living- 
 stone’s heart that some English travelers might be near. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 201 
 
 His disappointment was very great, therefore, when he 
 learned that this was the point where the Mambari crossed 
 and recrossed in going to and coming from Masiko on their 
 slave-dealing expeditions, and that the chain was doubtless 
 dropped by one of them. 
 
 The Mambari brought Manchester goods, beads, ete., 
 into the valley. Finding it much to their advantage, they 
 worked upon the credulity of the natives by telling them 
 that both the calico and the beads came out of the sea. As 
 the articles were altogether different from any they had 
 ever seen, or even dreamed of, the poor ignorant creatures 
 readily believed the story. But when Livingstone came he 
 told them better. They were overcome with surprise when 
 he explained to them how the cloth was woven and printed. 
 They exclaimed: “ How is it possible for tron to spin, weave, 
 and print so beautifully? Truly they who make them do 
 that are gods.” 
 
 On coming into the valley of the Leeba and the Leeam- 
 bye, Livingstone’s heart began to fail him for the first time 
 since he entered upon the journey. He felt that he would 
 soon be brought into contact with the most revolting aspects 
 of the slave traffic, and he knew not how he should be able 
 to endure the sight without rushing to the rescue of the mis- 
 erable victims. 
 
CHAPTER 2a: 
 
 QUESTIONABLE HOSPITALITY—AT THE VILLAGE OF NYAMOANA— 
 A CORDIAL RECEPTION—THE BALONDA COURT OF STATE—GAI.- 
 LANTRY OF LIVINGSTONE— PROPOSED JOURNEY TO SHINTE’S 
 TOWN—ARRIVAL OF MANENKO— THE START FOR KABOMPO— 
 MARCHING THROUGH THE RAIN—INCIDENTS OF THE WAY. 
 
 HE farther Livingstone and his men went up the river 
 | Bees more frequent became the cool receptions accorded 
 them by the chiefs. From some they met with a questionable 
 sort of hospitality—that is, they would be invited into the 
 villages and fed, but on preparing to leave they would find 
 that many of their most valuable things had been stolen. 
 Sometimes, too, they encountered great danger from war- 
 like tribes; but Livingstone’s courage and tact always car- 
 ried them safely through. Many tribes through which 
 they passed while ascending the Leeba were governed by 
 female chiefs. Nearly all of them were quite friendly, 
 though not inclined to give themselves much trouble to en- 
 tertain the travelers. Most of them were strong-minded 
 and determined women, and often showed more tact in the 
 conduct of both state and family affairs than two-thirds of 
 the male chiefs Livingstone had met. 
 
 On the 6th of January the party entered the village of 
 the female chief Nyamoana. Livingstone was by no means 
 favorably impressed when he learned that she was the 
 mother of Manenko. He was afraid she might possess 
 some of her daughter’s determined qualities, and give him 
 trouble; but Nyamoana proved agreeable and tractable in 
 
 (202) 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 203 
 
 every way. She was a popular ruler, and her tribe one of 
 the largest and most important. Her power was enhanced 
 because she was the favorite sister of Shinte, the greatest 
 Balonda chief in all that country. His territory extended 
 for hundreds of miles, and the chief himself did not know 
 half his people. Nyamoana’s tribe had but recently come 
 to their present locality, having removed thither from one 
 more unhealthy farther down the river; hence their new 
 village was far from being complete. Notwithstanding this 
 fact, Nyamoana prepared to receive the Livingstone party 
 in the grandest style the village could afford. She gave 
 them audience sitting on a raised couch covered with skins. 
 This hastily improvised throne was placed midway of a cir- 
 cle about thirty paces in diameter, which was raised a foot 
 or more above the level of the ground, with a trench ex- 
 tending around it. By the side of Nyamoana sat Samoana, 
 her husband. He wore a short kilt of red and green baize, 
 which hung from his waist two-thirds of the distance to his 
 knees. His hair, as well as that of his wife, was dressed 
 with the most consummate skill of the Balonda hair-dress- 
 er’s art, being made to stand out stiff with some kind of 
 rank-smelling tallow, and adorned with numerous feathers, 
 principally those of small birds. Samoana held in one 
 hand a spear and in the other a curiously carved broad- 
 sword of antique pattern. This sword attracted Living- 
 stone’s attention at once. It was about eighteen inches 
 long and three broad, of finely tempered steel and most 
 skillful workmanship. Livingstone wondered how Samoana 
 came into possession of such a weapon in the heart of a 
 savage country, where none of the people were known to 
 be skilled insuch arts. Afterward, on questioning the chief 
 in regard to the matter, he could Jearn nothing. Samoana 
 
204 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 either did not know the history of the sword or did not 
 care to tell it. ; 
 
 Just behind the chief and her husband was a hideous old 
 woman with a “bad squint in her eye,” and an emaciated 
 form that seemed little more than skin and bone. This was 
 a witch-doctor, whom every member of the tribe looked up 
 to with reverence, because of the superior wisdom she was 
 supposed to possess. Outside the trench surrounding the 
 raised circle of earth, on which were enthroned the chief and 
 her husband, sat about two hundred of the people, ranging 
 in age from the youngest children to old men and women. 
 The men were armed with spears, bows, and arrows—one 
 or two having broad-swords similar to Samoana’s. 
 
 On approaching the assembly, Livingstone and his party 
 Jaid down their arms about forty yards distant. The Mako- 
 lolo men then took their places on the outside of the raised 
 circle, while Livingstone went on to within a few feet of the 
 couch of skins on which sat Nyamoana and her husband. 
 Standing erect in front of them, Livingstone threw both 
 arms upward over his head, let the palms of his hands come 
 together, and then brought his arms down again to his side. 
 He next made a movement as though taking some sand 
 from the earth, and with the same hand rubbed vigorously 
 once or twice across his chest. This he had previously 
 learned was the Balonda manner of salutation. Evidently 
 much pleased that he had so soon become versed in their 
 court etiquette, the savage pair bade him come still nearer, 
 and motioned to him to occupy a mat that had been spread 
 in front of them; but before taking his place upon it, Liy- 
 ingstone made Nyamoana one of his courtliest bows. This 
 seemed to flatter her very much, for she smiled all over her 
 ebony face, showing a perfect set of snow-white teeth. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 205 
 
 After making his bow to Nyamoana, Livingstone turned and 
 bowed to Samoana, and began to address him. The little 
 savage was distressed at this procedure, and, with one eye on 
 Livingstone and the other on his wife, made violent gest- 
 ures to signify that he was but a figure-head in the royal 
 show; that to his wife belonged all the honor, and to her 
 Livingstone must address all his remarks. Livingstone 
 then made Nyamoana another bow, and, catching a second 
 gesture from her, at once took his place upon the mat she 
 had pointed out. 
 
 On trying to converse with the chieftainess, Livingstone 
 found that, with all his knowledge of the native dialects, 
 he could make little progress either in comprehending her 
 or in making himself understood. He therefore felt under 
 the necessity of calling one of his men, Kolimbota by 
 name, to act as interpreter. Livingstone describes the “ pa- 
 laver”’ that now ensued as not only roundabout in the ex- 
 treme, but highly amusing. Hearing Livingstone call one 
 of his men, and thinking this was the manner of conducting 
 state interviews in his country, Nyamoana also called one 
 of her men. Kolimbota then proceeded to repeat to Nya- 
 moana’s man what Livingstone said. The man delivered 
 it to Nyamoana’s husband, and the latter to Nyamoana 
 all this in accordance with the directions of Nyamoana 
 who seemed to think that the more roundabout the form of 
 procedure the more fashionable it would be. As may be 
 presumed, it took some time to dispose of even a few sen- 
 tences. To add to the ludicrousness of the proceeding, 
 Nyamoana, her husband, and her speaking-man delivered 
 their parts in voices raised so high that all in the circle out- 
 side could hear every word, which it was doubtless intended 
 they should do. Livingstone was nearly deafened, gspe- 
 
206 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 cially by the shouting of Nyamoana’s speaking-man, who had 
 a voice that would have brought a fortune to an auctioneer. 
 
 Livingstone frankly avowed the object of his expedition. 
 Nyamoana avas greatly interested, and declared her friend- 
 liness to the undertaking, assuring him of all the aid she 
 could render. Her next questions were of the country 
 whence Livingstone had come; then of Livingstone him- 
 self. Thinking to gain her interest still further, and to es- 
 tablish the utmost confidence and good-will between them, 
 Livingstone called her attention to his hair, then to the 
 whiteness of the skin of his arms and chest in comparison 
 with that of his hands and face, which had been bronzed by 
 the sun. Nyamoana seemed delighted at this assertion in 
 regard to the sun, as well as flattered by a certain sugges- 
 tion it conveyed. ‘Then it was the sun, after all,” she 
 exclaimed, “that turned my people black! Now, if you 
 were to go like my people,” pointing to their nude bodies 
 as she spoke, “you would be as black as they! We are, 
 then, of a common origin, after all.” Deeming it no harm 
 to allow her thus to deceive herself, Livingstone silently 
 acquiesced. He next called Nyamoana’s attention to his 
 hair, which, being somewhat long and of a light brown 
 color, had excited the admiration of all the savage tribes 
 he had visited. “My! my!” exclaimed Nyamoana in great 
 wonder, “is that hair? Why, surely it is not! No! no! it 
 is the mane of a lion, and not hair at all.’ She would not 
 believe that it was his hair until she had felt of it and pulled 
 it to see if it grew to his head. She thought it was a wig 
 he had made for himself out of lion’s hair, as her people 
 sometimes made wigs for themselves out of the fibers of the 
 “ife” which they dyed black and twisted, so as to resemble 
 their stiff and woolly locks. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 207 
 
 Nyamoana was charmed with Livingstone and his courtly 
 manner, and at the end of the conference declared that he 
 and his men should have the liberty of her village and the 
 utmost hospitality of her people. Pleased by her cordiality, 
 and wishing to make what return was in his power, Living- 
 stone drew still nearer, for the purpose of showing her his 
 watch and pocket-compass, and to explain their workings. 
 But when she heard the watch tick she became frightened, 
 and nothing could induce her to Jook at watch or compass. 
 Her husband, however, showed keen interest in both—they 
 were the greatest curiosities he had ever seen, and he did 
 not want Livingstone to put them up again. 
 
 Livingstone and his Makololos remained with Nyamoana 
 and her people some five or six days, during which time 
 they were most hospitably entertained and accorded the 
 greatest deference. On expressing his intention of continu- 
 ing the journey by means of the canoes up the Leeba, 
 Livingstone met with much opposition from Nyamoana. It 
 was of the friendliest sort, however. She told him she did 
 not believe the Leeba was the nearer and better route; that 
 there was another that lay by way of the land, and if he 
 could but find that she was sure it would prove the less 
 difficult and dangerous. With a view to his gaining infor- 
 mation about this route, she advised Livingstone to visit 
 her brother, Shinte, the powerful Balonda chief to whom 
 reference has been made. He had been quite a traveler in 
 his youth, and could tell much of the country, as he had 
 doubtless penetrated it to a considerable distance. Another 
 reason Nyamoana had for dissuading Livingstone from tak- 
 ing the river route was that she had heard that there was a 
 large and dangerous cataract and numerous rapids higher 
 up the stream, Before they were aware of it, she suggested, 
 
208 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 he and his men might be drawn into some of these perilous 
 places and dashed to pieces on the rocks. There was still 
 another reason, and perhaps the most important of all. The 
 majority of the tribes along the river-banks farther up were 
 extremely hostile, and even with all Livingstone’s tact it was 
 doubtful if the travelers could go through in safety. Liv- 
 ingstone felt grateful to Nyamoana for her friendly interest, 
 and after consultation with his men determined to visit 
 Shinte, although he had not fully made up his mind to aban- 
 don the river route. 
 
 While the explorers waited at Nyamoana’s town to make 
 the necessary preparations for the land journey to Ka- 
 bompo, the town where Shinte lived, the Amazon-like Ma- 
 nenko appeared upon the scene, much to Livingstone’s cha- 
 grin. Her curiosity to see Livingstone had been so great 
 that, notwithstanding her indignation at his refusal to heed 
 her messages, especially the last one, she had determined to 
 follow him up the river. Hearing of him at her mother’s 
 town, she had hastened on as fast as her rowers could bring 
 her, fearing that she might again miss him. 
 
 Manenko arrived in great state, accompanied by her hus- 
 band, Sambanza, and a small retinue of attendants, the 
 whole procession headed by a strapping drummer with an 
 enormous drum covered with ox-hide, upon which he beat 
 noisily and incessantly. Nyamoana and her attendants 
 met and welcomed the approaching visitors, and then ensued 
 the loud pounding of a second drum and the rattling of 
 many gourds. 
 
 Manenko and her husband ran forward to greet Living- 
 stone after the fashion of their people. When within a few 
 steps they stopped suddenly, fell upon their knees, and 
 dipped their foreheads over as though they would strike 
 
LIFE OF DayviD LIVINGSTONE. 209 
 
 them against the ground; then picking up a handful of 
 sand, they rubbed it upon their arms and chest, and once 
 more bowed their heads over, finally rising to their feet 
 while they scattered more sand over themselves, this time 
 in a shower that covered the greater portion of their bodies. 
 
 Livingstone was not prepossessed with Manenko’s appear- 
 ance, though he afterward found out that she had a good 
 heart with all her Amazon-like propensities. She was only 
 about twenty years of age, but well-grown, and exceedingly 
 tall fora woman. Her limbs were strong and massive, and 
 her carriage in every way masculine. She had gotten her- 
 self up in grand style, in order to make as deep an impres- 
 sion as possible upon Livingstone. Her only covering was 
 a short kilt-like skirt that hung from her waist to within a 
 few inches of her knees. About her body was a profusion 
 of charms and medicines, pendent from every conceivable 
 fastening-place. The exposed portions of her body were 
 thickly smeared with a horrid-smelling compound of rancid 
 butter and red ocher. When Livingstone asked her why 
 she did not go better clothed, she was quite indignant, and 
 pointing to the charms and innumerable little sacks of 
 medicine that dangled from her person, declared that she 
 was so well clothed that no one could possibly outdo her. 
 Finding that Livingstone meant all he said in the kindliest 
 spirit, she admitted that as a chief it was necessary in order 
 to win the proper influence over her people, and to impress 
 them with a sense of her bodily endurance, that she should 
 show her utter indifference to any clothing that protected 
 her body from the weather. 
 
 When Manenko heard of the proposed visit to her uncle, 
 Shinte, she declared that it was the very thing, and an- 
 
 nounced her purpose to go with the party. Livingstone 
 14 
 
- 210 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 was taken aback at this announcement, and when he 
 learned that Manenko designed taking charge of the bag- 
 gage of the party and directing the whole arrangements of 
 the journey, his chagrin knew no bounds. But he was 
 satisfied that it would not do to oppose the will of the 
 determined Manenko. It was like putting the hand out 
 against an impetuous stream of water, and hoping by this 
 feeble means to stop its onward rush. However, he had 
 made up his mind that he would exercise his authority in 
 regard to the baggage at least; but she gave him such a 
 tongue-lashing that he was glad to leave her in complete 
 possession. His sturdy Makololo were also driven away by 
 this “black Mrs. Caudle,” as Livingstone called her. But 
 the most amusing thing of all was that Manenko followed 
 after Livingstone, and pointing to her attendants, who 
 meekly stood about waiting upon her pleasure, said with a 
 most patronizing air as she laid her hand upon his shoulder: 
 “Now, my little man, you just take it easy and make up 
 your mind to do as the rest are doing—that is, as I tell 
 them to do.” These words, and the tone in which she 
 spoke them, humbled the Doctor’s vanity for many a day. 
 True, he was a small man, but he didn’t like to be told of 
 it by this Amazon, who towered full a head above him; 
 neither did he like to be patronized in so condescending a 
 manner. Still he excused it all on the score of Manenko’s 
 training. Had she been a civilized feminine ruler, our 
 fearless and independent Doctor would not have submitted 
 so tamely. The first stage was the crossing of a stream 
 that flowed past Nyamoana’s village. Before Manenko en- 
 tered the canoe in which she was to cross, her doctor 
 fastened more “charms” to her body. He also waved his 
 arms above her head two or three times, muttering some in- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 211 
 
 cantation designed, as Livingstone conjectured, to drive out 
 whatever evil might still be lurking within her. The doc- 
 tor had with him a queer-looking basket, supposed to con- 
 tain medicine. This he placed on the ground at his feet. 
 While passing near it one of Livingstone’s men called out 
 to another in a loud voice. The doctor turned upon him 
 angrily, looking hurriedly at the basket as if afraid some- 
 thing thereiti had been greatly disturbed by the noise. As 
 the party were embarking in the canoes, Manenko’s drum- 
 mer began thumping vociferously upon his great, ungainly 
 instrument of ox-hide. The din was so deafening that Liv- 
 ingstone was really thankful when a drizzling rain set in 
 and compelled the musician (!) to desist. This rain proved 
 something more than a drizzle; after awhile it began to 
 come down in a copious shower, to which there seemed to 
 be no diminution. In vain Manenko’s doctor and her hus- 
 band uttered their incantations and made frantic gestures, 
 with the hope of frightening the rain away, as they said. 
 Down it poured steadily, in spite of them. 
 
 The party having crossed the stream and marched into 
 the forest, it was thought best by some of the older mem- 
 bers to call a halt and take shelter from the rain; but to 
 this proposal Manenko would not listen. On she went at a 
 pace which few of the men could equal. Even Living- 
 stone, on oxback as he was, found it difficult to keep up 
 with her. He was further annoyed by her turning around 
 every now and then to encourage him with a motherly and 
 patronizing air. The Makololo’s admiration of the pedes- 
 trian powers of Manenko and their astonishment at her 
 pluck and hardihood were unbounded. They frequently ex- 
 claimed: “There never was such a woman before! But 
 Manenko is no woman; Manenko is a chief and a soldier.” 
 
212. LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 This pleased her so much that she smiled most benignly 
 upon the admiring Makololo; and from that time forth she 
 was their sworn protector. Livingstone preferred that his 
 men should restrain their enthusiasm, as it seemed but an 
 incentive to Manenko to redouble her efforts. Wet, cold, 
 hungry, and thoroughly exhausted, every one of them was 
 rejoiced when near the close of their first day’s march Ma- 
 nenko ordered rest and refreshment. 
 
 As they advanced, Livingstone noticed further evidences 
 of a discovery he had made while sojourning at Nyamoana’s 
 town—that the Balonda were not only a very superstitious 
 people, but much given to idolatry. They were the first of 
 the African tribes among whom he had noted the latter 
 tendency. Each hut in the towns had its hideous idol rudely 
 sarved out of wood, while the distorted image of a human 
 figure of some kind was placed near the entrance to every 
 village. Thus, while continuing the journey to Shinte, 
 the travelers could always tell when they were nearing a 
 village by seeing these blocks of wood set up in some con- 
 spicuous place about a quarter of a mile from the town. 
 
 The way to Shinte’s capital lay through dense forests, and 
 often across swamps formed by the junction of small streams 
 which were in many instances barely passable. For sev- 
 eral days the rain continued to fall in torrents, increas- 
 ing the discomforts and difficulties of the journey. Living- 
 stone was still weak from the fever that had seized him at 
 Linyanti just after the exposures of his march thither. 
 Besides this, for the past three weeks his diet had been 
 most unsatisfying, there being a scarcity of cattle in the Ba- 
 londa and other tribes of that section. Many whole vil- 
 lages did not own more than half a dozen head. Their 
 principal articles of subsistence were vegetables, fruits, and 
 
= LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 213 
 
 roots. A long continuance of such fare as this, when he 
 had been used to meat at least once a day, often three times, 
 rendered Livingstone very weak, and it was all that he 
 could do to keep up through the journey. The hardships 
 of the way were still further increased by the fact that they 
 were often sorely pressed for a sufficiency of food of any 
 kind. They found the inhabitants of many of the villages 
 reluctant to grant them even a scanty supply of the com- 
 monest food. Such a contrast as they were to the generous 
 and hospitable Makololo! It was but natural that Living- 
 stone should turn with feelings of deep longing to his old 
 friends at Linyanti. 
 
 Several times Livingstone would have lost heart but for 
 the indomitable Manenko. She had established herself 
 close by his side from the start, and kept constantly chat- 
 ting with him in the liveliest manner as they went along, 
 Once, seeing that the brave missionary was about to give 
 way, through weakness superinduced by want of proper 
 nourishment, Manenko herself went off to beg food for 
 him at one of the villages. Although the head man was a 
 subject of her uncle, she only succeeded in getting five small 
 ears of maize. These she roasted for Livingstone after a 
 fashion of her own, and neyer had any food seemed so good 
 tohim. After this brave and generous act, he had a better 
 opinion of the Amazon-like yet warm-hearted Manenko. 
 
 Occasionally the wearied and famishing party were re- 
 freshed by the mushrooms which the rains had caused to 
 spring up during the night. Some of them were as large 
 as the crown of a man’s hat, and snow-white in appearance. 
 Others were of different colors—one variety of a dark blue, 
 quite unlike any Livingstone had ever seen before. Some- 
 times, too, they found an artificial bee-hive filled with 
 
214 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 golden honey. Then, indeed, they had a feast; yet they 
 took good care to leave full value in exchange for the store 
 they had abstracted. These artificial hives were formed by 
 stripping the bark whole from a tree, then sewing it up and 
 closing both ends; a hole was next made in it for the bees 
 to pass in and out, after which it was hung up to a tree. 
 
 As they drew nearer to Shinte’s town the people grew 
 more hospitable, especially when they learned that Ma- 
 nenko was Shinte’s niece. Once or twice this hospitality 
 sheltered them from the rain in a very curious fashion. The 
 inhabitants of some of the towns lent them the roofs of 
 their huts. Livingstone tells us that these resembled noth- 
 ing so much as a Chinaman’s hat. They were made of 
 straw, und could be lifted on and off at pleasure. The vil- 
 lagers took them off and brought them to Livingstone and 
 his men at their camping-place, with the polite tender of 
 their use for the night. Livingstone having accepted them 
 with thanks, his men would prop them up on stakes driven 
 into the ground, and they then had a very comfortable 
 shelter from the rain. 
 
 Gur travelers at times spent the night in the huts within 
 the villages, not always finding people who were obliging 
 enough to remove their roofs and convey them to the place 
 of encampment. As they were stopping at one of these vil- 
 lages an amusing thing happened. We will let Livingstone 
 relate it in his own words: “One night we were all awak- 
 ened by a terrible shriek from one of Manenko’s ladies. 
 She piped out so loud and so long that we all imagined she 
 had been seized by a lion, and my men snatched up their 
 arms, which they always place so as to be ready at a mo- 
 ment’s notice, and ran to the rescue; but we found that the 
 alarm had been caused by one of the oxen thrusting his 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LiVINGSTONE. 215 
 
 head into her hut and smelling of her; she had put her 
 hand on his cold, wet nose, and thought it was all over with 
 her.” 
 
 Nyamoana had taken the trouble to send runners for- 
 ward to notify Shinte of Livingstone’s approach, and to 
 suggest that he should receive the missionary cordially, 
 as he was a most wonderful man. When within twenty- 
 five or thirty miles of Kabompo, Livingstone’s party were 
 met by messengers from the chief. These brought the as- 
 surance of Shinte’s most hospitable welcome. At the same 
 time they said to Livingstone that their chief “felt highly 
 honored at the prospect of entertaining three white men in 
 his town at onetime.” This intelligence made Livingstone’s 
 heart beat quicker than it had for many a day, and for the 
 time he forgot his weakness and his fever. Who could the 
 other two white men be? If Europeans like himself, how 
 great would be his joy at once more beholding the faces of 
 fellow-countrymen! This thought was like an invigorating 
 tonic; but he could not believe such good news possible. 
 There was surely some mistake. “Are you sure they are 
 white men?” he asked the messengers. “ Yes, quite sure,” 
 was the reply. ‘And are they of the same color as am?” 
 “Yes, of the very same color.” “And have they the same 
 hair?” At this question they for the first time observed 
 Livingstone’s hair, from which he now removed his cap. 
 They were as much amazed at the sight of it as Nyamoana 
 and her people had been. “ Why, is that hair?” they asked 
 inastonishment. “Itsurelyisnot! Itisa wig. It isa wig 
 that you have made of the mane of a lion, only it is softer 
 and straighter than the hair of a lion. What beast can it be 
 of whose hair you have made the wig you wear?” On being 
 allowed to examine it, and to pull it to see if it really grew 
 
216 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 to his head, they exclaimed with more amazement than ever. 
 ‘““Well, well, well! we never saw the like before! This 
 white man,” turning to the Makololo attendants, and point- 
 ing to Livingstone, “that you have brought hither must be 
 of the same kind that lives in the sea, Where did you get 
 him? Yes, yes, the sea has surely washed all the kink from 
 his hair and made it as the lion’s.” “And those other white 
 men, whom you say are approaching the town of your chief 
 —have they hair like mine?” repeated Livingstone. “We 
 know not if their hair is as yours,” was the answer. “ Their 
 messenger never stated. Only this much wedo know: they 
 sent our chief word that they were white men, and he is 
 now preparing for their reception and for yours.” “Aud 
 from what direction are they approaching?” “From the 
 west.” “Ah!” thought Livingstone, “that is the direction 
 whither white men live. Can it be that they are Euro- 
 peans from the coast?” His hopes were raised to the 
 highest pitch; but, alas! they were doomed to a crushing 
 disappointment. The other white men expected at Shinte’s 
 town, and for whom he had made such great preparations, 
 turned out to be half-caste Portuguese slave-traders—the 
 very last persons with whom Livingstone at that time cared 
 to come in contact. They were the lowest and vilest of 
 
 their class. 
 
CHAPrrE Rev: 
 
 THE CHARMING SITUATION OF KABOMPO—AN IDEAL NATIVE VIL- 
 LAGE — THE BLOT THAT OBSCURED THE SMILING FAIRNESS OF 
 THE SCENE—THE RECEPTION AT THE KOTLA—THE PRIVATE IN- 
 TERVIEW WITH SHINTE—MANENKO AGAIN HEARD FROM—THE 
 IMPRESSIONS CREATED BY THE MAGIC LANTERN — SHINTE’S 
 WATER-DRAWER — SAMBANZA IS GIVEN MORE THAN A CURTAIN 
 LECTURE—LIVINGSTONE ISSHOCKED BY A PROPOSAL OF SHINTE’S 
 —PREPARATION TO LEAVE KABOMPO — THE CHIEF GIVES ELO- 
 QUENT PROOF OF HIS FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 ABOMPO, the capital of the Balonda tribes, stood 
 < in a delightful green valley, with a clear and beau- 
 tiful stream winding through it. Beyond, it was shut in 
 by many verdure-crowned, cup-shaped hills, their outlines 
 being rendered more easily traceable by the deep blueness 
 of the sky that closed about them. The valley reminded 
 Livingstone of one among his own native hills, where 
 Mary, the fair Queen of Scots, had witnessed the battle of 
 Langside; only the Scotch scene was but “a miniature of 
 the much greater and richer landscape before him.” It 
 was pathetic to see the brave yet often home-sick man con- 
 stautly coming upon some charming bit of scenery that re- 
 called his fondly loved home-land so faraway. Every river 
 that flowed in quiet and lovely meanderings reminded him 
 of the Clyde; every vale took on the entrancing phases of 
 one he had known and loved among the hills of Caledonia, 
 while the mountains were the very same, only lacking the 
 
 bonny heather so dear to Scottish eyes. 
 (217) 
 
218 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 The arrangement of Shinte’s capital was both neat and 
 picturesque. The village, with its cluster of huts, stood 
 near the upper end of the valley. It was completely em- 
 bowered by tall, beautiful trees, many of them of the ban- 
 yan variety. The huts were well and strongly built. They 
 had square walls, the first Livingstone had yet seen in any 
 native African village. The roofs were circular and com- 
 pactly thatched with straw, so that the inhabitants were 
 comfortably sheltered from the weather. ‘There were nu- 
 merous broad streets leading through the town, with rows 
 of magnificent trees planted on both sides. Attached to 
 each hut was a patch of ground inclosed with a firm and 
 well-arranged fence of stout poles set upright in the ground 
 an inch or soapart. Between these intervening spaces were 
 run back and forth long wisps of stout grass ingeniously 
 woven together, and worked in much after the fashion of 
 the strands linking the half-panel, half-wire fences of to- 
 day. In these patches of ground were growing tobacco, 
 sugar-cane, bananas, and many kinds of vegetables, which 
 proved that Shinte’s people were far from being amateur 
 farmers. The bananas were especially attractive, throwing 
 their tall, graceful shoots, with their long and beautiful 
 leaves, high above the roofs of the huts, while their green- 
 and-golden bunches of delicious fruit, from the ends of 
 which were pendent streamers of vivid searlet and purple, 
 made glowing flecks of color here and there. Growing 
 outside the fence inclosing the patches, in many instances 
 just where they could throw their shade about the doors of 
 the huts, were immense specimens of the Fiews indica fam- 
 ily, which the natives held in high veneration. 
 
 Livingstone thought that he had never seen a more pre 
 possessing native town, nor one in which the people showed 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 219 
 
 greater evidence of thrift. But the fair picture was over- 
 shadowed by the presence of the two half-caste Portuguese 
 slave-traders, who were even at this early date preparing to 
 enter upon the horrible business that had brought them 
 thither. ‘They already had with them a company of slaves, 
 the greater part women and children, and all of them in 
 chains. The Makololo could not restrain their indigna- 
 tion at this inhuman spectacle. “They are not men who 
 treat children so!” they declared. While deeply regretting 
 the revolting sight that they had been called upon to witness, 
 Livingstone could not but feel glad of the opportunity that 
 had afforded them such a lesson. He hoped they would 
 take it deeper and deeper to heart as time went on, and 
 feeling thus would steadfastly make up their minds to throw 
 the full weight of their opposition against the advance of 
 the slave traffic in their own section. 
 
 About eleven o’clock on the morning after their arrival 
 at Kabompo, Shinte gave Livingstone and his attendants a 
 grand reception in the kotla. As the intrepid Manenko 
 had given way beneath the heavy burden she had put upon 
 herself during the march, and was lying in ore of the huts 
 completely exhausted, Sambanza claimed the honor of pre- 
 senting Livingstone and his Makololos to Shinte. While 
 they were getting ready to start from the huts for the kotla, 
 three volleys of musketry in rapid succession greeted their 
 ears. Livingstone, inquiring what it meant, learned that 
 it was the Portuguese slave-traders and a company of 
 Mambari, who accompanied them, firing a salute in honor 
 of Shinte. He also learned that.it was the custom of these 
 people to go fully armed all the time, and to fire rounds 
 complimentary to the chiefs of the various villages where 
 they stopped. This had the effect of working upon the 
 
SASS 
 
 (220) 
 
 ONE OF SHINTE’S SUBJECTS. 
 
S 
 
 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 221 
 
 royal vanity, as the wily traders knew it would do. With 
 their firearms they also took along a drummer and two 
 trumpeters, whose sole object seemed to be to see just how 
 much noise they could make. 
 
 The kotla, or place of audience, was about a hundred 
 yards square. At the upper end grew two magnificent 
 specimens of the banyan-tree, the more tender and pliable 
 of their many graceful fronds drooping over in curves of 
 sinuous beauty. Within the shadow cast by one of these 
 trees sat Shinte, on a throne formed of a mound of grass 
 and rushes, covered with a glossy leopard-skin. He had 
 arrayed himself in his grandest style. A flashily checked 
 short jacket covered the upper portion of his body, the 
 lower edge just reaching to the waist. From the waist 
 downward hung a kilt of scarlet baize edged with green. 
 About the neck were fastened numerous strings of shining 
 glass beads, while his limbs; which were all perfectly nude, 
 were bound about with various bands of copper and iron. 
 Around the wrists were an immense pair of copper bracelets, 
 from which dangled numberless little bits of brass and iron. 
 His ankles were inclosed by bands of the same device as 
 those of his arms. On his head there was a massive hel- 
 met formed of beads closely woven together, the whole be- 
 ing surmounted by a great cluster of goose-feathers. Near 
 him sat three youths with large sheaves of arrows hung 
 over their shoulders and a bow in their hands. Behind 
 these were about one hundred women, clad in green and red 
 baize—the wives of Shinte. One of them, who Living- 
 stone learned was the chief’s principal wife, sat somewhat 
 in front of the others. She was more gaudily dressed than 
 her companions, having, in addition to other articles they 
 had not, a curiously shaped red cap trimmed with beads 
 
222 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 and feathers, like the helmet worn by her husband. She 
 was of the Matabele or Zulu tribe, and was much honored 
 by Shinte. Livingstone was no little surprised to see these ~ 
 women present at a public reception—all the more so when 
 they sat in honored seats near their royal spouse, and were 
 allowed to do as they pleased all through the various cere- 
 nonies. He says: “In the south the women are not al- 
 lowed to enter the kotla, and, even when invited to come 
 to a religious service there, would not enter until ordered 
 to do so by the chief; but here they expressed approbation 
 by laughing and clapping their hands to different speakers ; 
 and Shinte frequently turned around and spoke to them.” 
 When Livingstone and his party entered the kotla, the 
 whole of Manenko’s suite saluted Shinte by throwing their 
 hands up over their heads and clapping them loudly to- 
 gether; then apparently taking up a handful of sand, they 
 rubbed their chests vigorously. Sambanza applied to his 
 chest genuine ashes, with which he had taken the precau- 
 tion to provide himself. Seeing that the space beneath 
 one of these trees was unoccupied, Livingstone made his 
 way toward it, very grateful for the shade it afforded, since 
 the sun was now high in the heavens and shining with 
 great power. What next took place can be best described 
 in Livingstone’s own words: “The different sections of the 
 tribe came forward in the same way that we did, the head 
 man of each making obeisance with ashes which he carried 
 with him for the purpose; then came the soldiers, all armed 
 to the teeth, running and shouting toward us, with their 
 swords drawn, and their faces screwed up so as to ap- 
 pear as savage as possible, for the purpose, I thought, of 
 trying whether they could uot make us take to our heels. 
 As we did not, they turned round toward Shinte, and sa- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 223 
 
 luted him, then retired. When all had come and were 
 seated, they began the curious capering usually seen in 
 pichos. A man starts up, and imitates the most approved 
 attitude observed in actual fight—as throwing one javelin, 
 receiving another on the shield, springing to one side to 
 avoid a third, running backward or forward, leaping, ete, 
 This over, Sambanza and the spokesman of Nyamoana 
 stalked backward and forward in front of Shinte, and gave 
 forth, in a loud voice, all they had been able to learn, either 
 from myself or people, of my past history and connection 
 with the Makololo; the return of the captives;* the wish to 
 open up the country to trade; the Bible as a word from 
 heaven; the white man’s desire for the tribes to live in 
 peace; he ought to have taught the Makololo that first, for 
 the Balonda never attacked them, yet they had assailed the 
 Balonda; perhaps he is fibbing, perhaps not; they rather 
 thought he was; but as the Balonda had good hearts, and 
 Shinte had never done any harm to any one, he had better 
 receive the white man well and send him on his way. Sam- 
 banza was gayly attired, and, besides a profusion of beads, 
 had a cloth so Jong that a boy carried it after him as a train. 
 During the intervals between the speeches the women be- 
 hind Shinte burst forth into a sort of plaintive ditty; but 
 it was impossible for any of us to catch whether it was in 
 praise of the speaker or themselves. A party of musicians, 
 consisting of three drummers and four performers on the 
 piano, went round the kotla several times regaling us with 
 their music. Their drums are neatly carved from the trunk 
 
 =Tt seems that very soon after starting on the journey to the sea 
 Livingstone persuaded a trader to relinquish his captives and allow 
 them to return to their homes; not, however, without first reward- 
 ing him pecuniarily, as we may well believe. 
 
224 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 of a tree, the ends covered with the skin of an antelope, 
 The piano, named ‘marimba,’ consists of two bars of wood 
 placed side by side—here quite straight, but, farther north, 
 bent round so as to resemble half the tire of a carriage- 
 wheel; across these are placed about fifteen wooden keys, 
 each of which is two or three inches broad and fifteen or 
 eighteen inches long; their thickness is regulated ac- 
 cording to the deepness of the note required; each of 
 the keys has a calabash beneath it; from the upper part 
 of each a portion is cut off to enable them to embrace the 
 bars and form a hollow sounding-board to the keys, which 
 are of different sizes, according to the note required; and 
 little drum-sticks elicit the music. Rapidity of execution 
 seems much admired among them, and the music is pleas- 
 ant to the ear. In Angola, the Portuguese use the marimba 
 in their dances. When nine speakers had concluded their 
 orations, Shinte stood up, and so did all the people. He 
 had maintained true African dignity of manner all the 
 while, but my people remarked that he scarcely ever took 
 his eyes off me fora moment. Thesun had now become hot; 
 and the scene ended by the Mambari firing off their guns.” 
 
 There were about a thousand persons present at this re- 
 ception, which was a fine proof of Shinte’s power and stand- 
 ing in the section. Owing to some misarrangement, Liv- 
 ingstone and Shinte were kept apart all through the exer- 
 cises, so that at the close they had not exchanged a word. 
 Livingstone thought it was in accordance with Kabompo 
 court etiquette, while Shinte kept waiting for the Doctor to 
 make the first advances, it not being in accord with his dig- 
 nity to make it himself. But it was remarked by others 
 besides Livingstone’s own attendants that Shinte scarcely 
 removed his eyes from the missionary. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 225 
 
 Soon after the meeting at the kotla Livingstone received 
 from Shinte the summons to a private interview. He found 
 the chief quite frank and straightforward and inclined to 
 be friendly. He was about fifty-five or fifty-six years old, 
 of medium height, and very dignified in bearing. Living- 
 stone met Shinte in that open, fearless manner he had al- 
 ways found the most winning with the African chiefs and 
 people. Shinte was pleased with Livingstone, and heartily 
 approved the plans of the proposed expedition from the 
 moment they were made known to him. At the close of 
 the conference Livingstone asked the chief if he had ever 
 seen a white man before. Shinte hastily replied: “ Never. 
 You are the very first white man I have ever seen with a 
 white skin and straight hair. Your clothing, too, is differ- 
 ent from any I have ever seen.” Thereupon he set to work 
 with great curiosity to examine the various articles of Liv- 
 ingstone’s dress. 
 
 On receiving the hint “that Shinte’s mouth was bitter for 
 want of tasting ox-flesh,” Livingstone hastened to present 
 him with an ox, though he could ill spare it. The chief 
 was delighted, for it was a great treat, his people being al- 
 most as destitute of cattle as Manenko’s. Livingstone 
 thought it too bad that the Balonda, especially those of 
 Shinte’s town, should not possess cattle, since they had such 
 capital grazing-ground for them. He also thought it a good 
 opportunity to let fall a hint into Shinte’s ear; so he told 
 him of the Makololo and the Barotse and of the immense 
 herds of cattle they possessed. When he had done this, 
 and got Shinte’s enthusiasm aroused to the proper pitch, 
 he asked the shrewd old chief if he did not think it would 
 be a first-rate idea for him and his people to trade with the 
 
 Makololo for cows. Shinte jumped at the suggestion, de 
 15 
 
226 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 claring it the very thing. On his return from the coast 
 Livingstone was greatly pleased to find that Shinte had so 
 far followed his advice as to get for himself three fine cows, 
 one of them the sleekest and fattest heifer Livingstone had 
 yet seen. 
 
 When Shinte was proffered the ox by Livingstone, he 
 was much elated, and declared that he was going to give a 
 feast right away to his chief wives and principal men. 
 Alas! he soon found out that there was an opposing force 
 to consult first. As he did not consult it, he was violently 
 taken aback when he came in collision with it unawares. 
 When Manenko heard that Livingstone had presented an 
 ox to her uncle, she became so indignant and so angry, be- 
 cause the transaction had taken place without her knowl- 
 edge or consent, that she almost drove her attendants to 
 their wits’ end by her furious reproaches. “The white man 
 belongs to me!” she indignantly declared, “and all he pos- 
 sesses is mine! I brought him here and his belongings too, 
 therefore the ox is mine, and not Shinte’s! What right has 
 Shinte to it, anyhow? I will show both him and the white 
 man that Manenko is not to be fooled with.” Calling sev- 
 eral of her men, she made them go at once and bring the 
 ox to her before Shinte could get it. When they returned 
 with it, she ordered it slaughtered immediately. At tirst 
 she said that Shinte should not get one smell of it; but 
 after awhile, relenting somewhat, she sent him a leg of the 
 ox. Just what Shinte thought of this behavior of Manen- 
 ko’s was not known, as he kept his own counsel in regard to 
 the matter. Evidently he had long ago learned the folly 
 of cpposing his will to Manenko’s. 
 
 While at Shinte’s town Livingstone gave several exhibi- 
 tions with his magic lantern. At first the people were 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. D2 
 
 greatiy frightened, and it was only after the second or third 
 exhibition that he could induce them to approach near 
 enough to hear what he had to say in regard to the pictures. 
 He gives this description of one of the first exhibitions: 
 “The first picture exhibited was Abraham about to slaugh- 
 ter his son Isaac; it was shown as large as life, and the up- 
 lifted knife was in the act of striking the lad; the Balonda 
 men remarked that the picture was much more like a god 
 than the things of wood and clay they worshiped. I ex- 
 plained that this man was the first of a race to whom God 
 had given the Bible we now held, and that among his chil- 
 dren our Saviour appeared. The ladies listened with silent 
 awe; but when I moved the slide, the upright dagger mov- 
 ing toward them, they thought it was to be sheathed in 
 their bodies instead of Isaac’s. ‘Mother! mother!’ all 
 shouted at once, and off they rushed helter-skelter, tum- 
 bling pell-mell over each other and over the little idol-huts 
 and tobacco bushes; we could not get one of them back 
 again. Shinte, however, sat bravely through the whole, 
 and afterward examined the instrument with great in- 
 terest.” 
 
 In time, when the patient and frank manner of Living- 
 stone had more fully won upon the confidence of the people, 
 especially the women, there was no trouble in getting them 
 to the exhibition. They often came in such crowds that 
 not half of them could get within sound of Livingstone’s 
 voice, or catch a glimpse of the pictures. As many of the 
 pictures were upon Bible subjects, Livingstone found them 
 a profitable means of teaching the Balonda sacred truths. 
 Soon the fame of the magic lantern extended for miles out- 
 side of the village, and he had at the exhibitions other ex: 
 cited and wonder-struck lookers-on besides Shinte’s people. 
 
228 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Livingstone was highly amused while at Kabompo by 
 watching the maneuvers of Shinte’s chief water-drawer. 
 She was a large, masculine-looking woman, almost as de- 
 termined as Manenko. As she passed along the streets she 
 would ring a bell as a signal for every one to keep out of 
 her way. Livingstone was told that it was considered a 
 great offense for any one to come near her while she was 
 going for or returning with the water, as in this way an 
 evil influence would be thrown about it, rendering it unfit 
 for the chief to drink. 
 
 Before he had been many days among the Balonda, Liv- 
 ingstone was shocked to find that they were much given to 
 intoxication—a thing almost unknown among the tribes 
 farther south. They brewed a kind of beer that was largely 
 drank among them, even the women imbibing it sometimes 
 to a disgraceful extent. On one occasion poor Sambanza, 
 whe had hitherto kept clear of the evil through fear of his 
 sharp-tongued spouse, got so drunk that it was all he could 
 do to steer himself to the royal hut. Manenko saw him 
 coming, and the rapidity with which she “bundled him in,” 
 as Livingstone expressively said, betokened a still warmer 
 reception to come. 
 
 Livingstone’s spirits were considerably raised on learni- 
 ing from Shinte that he had been quite a traveler in his 
 youth, and that he had men who had gone with him on 
 these travels, who “knew all the paths leading to the white 
 men.” He told Livingstone that several of these followers 
 —headed by one Intemese, who knew the language of most 
 of the tribes between Kabompo and the coast—were at his 
 service as attendants; also that it was his intention to fur- 
 nish him and his little company with enough provisions to 
 last them through several stages of their journey. 
 
 ’ 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 229 
 
 The following incident occurred a night or two before the 
 departure from Kabompo. It had a harrowing effect upon 
 the sensitive nerves of the brave and kindly man whose 
 tender heart bled as he thought of the woes of some of the 
 miserable beings among whom his lot had been cast. Let 
 Livingstone tell the incident: “One night Shinte sent for 
 for me, though I always stated that I liked my dealings to 
 be above-board. When I came he presented me with a 
 slave girl of about ten years old. He said that he had al- 
 ways been in the habit of presenting his visitors with a 
 ehild. On my thanking him, and saying that I thought it 
 wrong to take away children from their parents—that I 
 wished him to give up this system altogether, and trade in 
 cattle, ivory, and bees-wax—he urged that she was to be ‘a 
 child’ to bring me water, and that a great man ought to 
 have ‘a child’ for that purpose, yet I had none. As I re- 
 plied that I had four children, and should be very sorry if 
 my chief were to take away my little girl and give her 
 away, and that I would prefer this child to remain and 
 carry water for her own mother, he thought I was dissatis- 
 fied with her size, and sent for one a head taller. After 
 many explanations of our abhorrence of slavery, and how 
 displeasing it must be to God to see his children selling one 
 another, and giving each other so much grief, as this child’s 
 mother must feel, I declined her also. If I could have 
 taken her into my family for the purpose of instruction, 
 and then returned her as a free woman according to prom- 
 ise I should have made to her parents, I might have done 
 so; but to take her away, and probably never be able to se- 
 cure her return, would have produced no good effects in 
 the minds of the Balonda. They would not then have seen 
 evidence of our hatred to slavery; and the kind attention 
 
230 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 of my friends would, as it almost always does in similar 
 cases, have turned the poor thing’s head. The difference 
 in position between them and us is as great as between the 
 lowest and the highest in England; and we know the effects 
 of sudden elevation on wiser heads than hers, whose owners 
 have not been born to it.’ 
 
 At their last interview the chief seemed so much affected 
 by the impending separation that he could only converse 
 in broken sentences. He had become closely attached 
 to Livingstone, and it pained him deeply to see him go. 
 As Livingstone was about to withdraw at the close of the 
 interview, Shinte called him back, and taking from his 
 neck a string of beads, to which was attached a large sea- 
 shell, threw it around Livingstone’s neck before the latter 
 had time to surmise his intention or offer any remonstrance. 
 “There now!” cried Shinte, “you have a proof of my 
 friendship!” Livingstone afterward discovered that it was 
 indeed a signal mark of the chief’s favor and esteem, and 
 the highest honor in Shinte’s power to bestow. In fact, in 
 regions farther from the sea it was considered “of as great 
 value as the lord-mayor’s badge in London.” They had not 
 been many days on their route until Livingstone learned 
 from his men that “for two such shells a slave could be 
 bought; and five of them were looked upon as a handsome 
 price for an elephant’s tusk worth ten pounds.” Though he 
 had no intention of dealing in elephant tusks, and the mere 
 thought of the purchase of a slave made his blood run cold 
 with horror, Livingstone felt his heart warming more and 
 more toward the manly and generous savage who had given 
 him so magnificent a proof of his friendship. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A COUNTRY OF LUXURIANT FORESTS—FURTHER SIGNS OF IDOLATRY 
 —A POTENT QUESTION—THE “GREAT LORD KATEMA”—LIVING- 
 STONE RENDERS AN IMPORTANT SERVICE—KATFMA’S GRATITUDE 
 —THE HOSPITALITY OF HIS PEOPLE—THE GOOD MOZINKWA AND 
 HIS WIFE—AN AMATEUR SNUFF MANUFACTURER—THE STORY OF 
 THE CROSS—A WIND FROM THE NORTH—CROSSING THE GREAT 
 WATER-SHED OF THE NORTH AND SOUTH RIVERS—INHOSPITABLE 
 
 —THE STEADFAST DE- 
 
 ” 
 
 TRIBES—AN EXTORTIONATE “PIKEMAN 
 VOTION OF THE MAKOLOLO. 
 
 IVINGSTONE left Kabompo on the 24th of Janu- 
 
 ary, 1854. His course to Loanda was to be directly 
 
 west by north-west. For some distance from Shinte’ town 
 
 the way lay through deep, luxuriant forests, interspersed 
 
 with fertile plains. The party found it difficult to push 
 
 their way across some of these plains, as they had been coy- 
 
 ered with water to the depth of several feet by recent heavy 
 
 rains. As long as they traveled in Shinte’s territory they 
 
 were provided with an abundance of food and given shelter 
 at night. 
 
 Livingstone continued to note evidences of the idolatrous 
 tendencies of the various tribes. In the forests medicines 
 and “charms” were fixed to the trees, as propitiatory gifts 
 to an unseen power of which they seemed to stand in great 
 dread. Sometimes bundles of twigs were fastened among 
 the limbs of the trees, to which each passer-by was expected 
 to make an addition, or else suffer most dreadful conse 
 quences through the anger of the invisible spirit. 
 
 (231) 
 
232 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Livingstone ascertained that white men had been heard 
 of by older members of the tribes, yet no living man could 
 be found who had ever seen one. The Doctor was there- 
 fore a great curiosity to the people, who eagerly examined 
 his hair, his skin, and his clothes. One day he and his men 
 unexpectedly entered a small village in the depths of a 
 large forest. It was at noon, and the inhabitants were all 
 enjoying their “siesta.” Livingstone’s sudden appearance 
 in their midst so frightened the villagers that fully two- 
 thirds of them fled to the woods. The women especially 
 were terror-stricken, and one of them went into convulsions 
 as Livingstone approached. When they saw Intemese, and 
 heard his explanations, their fears were somewhat allayed. 
 
 The men sent by Shinte were of great service; indeed, 
 Livingstone could not have gotten along without them—yet 
 theygbad one trait that annoyed him greatly. After beg- 
 ging food at the villages they would steal it from him. Still 
 they were “very clever and good-natured fellows” and 
 most valuable guides, as they knew the country well. 
 
 While passing through the country of the Loanda, he 
 overheard one of the inhabitants ask a Makololo man, who 
 had been telling him of the cattle possessed by his people, 
 “if he brought a canoe down by water to the Makololo’s 
 country, could he barter it for a cow.” An affirmative an- 
 swer was quickly given, and seemed to please the Loanda 
 men greatly. Livingstone made a note of this, and sought 
 to foster the desire among others of the tribe. He also 
 marked a valuable suggestion conveyed by the Loanda man’s 
 question—“a belief in the existence of a water communica- 
 tion between the region in which Livingstone then wan and 
 that whence he had started.” How encouraging, after all, 
 the prospect seemed for the,opening up of “legitimate com- 
 
o 
 
 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 233 
 
 mercial intercourse” between the more remote tribes of the 
 continent, and thus in time entirely crushing out the slave 
 traffic. The farther Livingstone proceeded the more heart- 
 rending became the evidences of the inhuman practice. 
 Nor were the chiefs and people behind the traders in their 
 acts of inhumanity. Of one chief in particular, Matiamvo 
 by name, Livingstone learned that “if he fancied any thing 
 —for, example a watch-chain of silver wire—he would sell 
 a whole village to buy it. If aslave-trader visited him, he 
 took possession of all his goods; then, after ten days or a 
 fortnight, he would send out a party of men to pounce upon 
 some considerable village, and having killed the head man, 
 would give the trader all the inhabitants to pay for his 
 goods.” All this made Livingstone very unhappy, and 
 with all his fervor he prayed for the speedy coming of that 
 
 day 4 
 
 When man to man the world o’er 
 Should brothers be for a’ that. 
 
 The scenery of the Loanda country was most charming. 
 Beautiful green meadows, through which trickled thread- 
 like streams, stretched away for miles. The uplands were 
 picturesque, and luxuriant in verdure. The abundance of 
 vegetable food was almost fabulous, though greatly to Liv- 
 ingstone’s regret there was little game. The people told 
 him that at one time there had been a plentifulness of ani- 
 mal life, but that it had either decreased through the ray- 
 ages of disease, or else the animals had grown shy from 
 hunting and withdrawn to distant regions. Occasionally 
 they came upon a lonely, prowling animal, usually of the 
 leopard or tiger variety; but instead of making signs of at- 
 tack, it would slink away, as if conscious of its own weak- 
 ness in the absence of its fellows. 
 
A FOREST PROWLER. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 235 
 
 Several weeks after starting, the expedition came to the 
 town of a chief named Katema. He was very bombastic, 
 and amused Livingstone on their introduction by making a 
 speech that was self-laudatory in the extreme. He began 
 by announcing himself as “the great Moene [Lord] Kate- 
 ma, of whom you have heard.” As the Doctor had never 
 heard of him, the self-laudation was all the more notable, as 
 well asamusing. Livingstone and his fellow-travelers were 
 received by this “great Lord Katema,” seated on some 
 banyan-boughs raised in imitation of a throne, and covered 
 with skins of various small animals. Behind him sat his 
 wives, as Shinte’s had done, while three or four hundred of 
 his people were seated in a semicircle around him. From 
 his pompous demeanor, Livingstone expected an overwhelm- 
 ing reception. He was therefore much surprised when, at 
 the conclusion of Intemese’s speech—in which he had made 
 known to the chief Livingstone’s “history, doings, and in- 
 tentions”—Katemia placed before him twelve large baskets 
 of meal, half a dozen fowls, and a dozen eggs, saying: 
 “There! give that to the white man and his friends, and 
 tell them to go to the houses my people will show him, and 
 cook and eat, and he will then be much more fit to speak 
 with me at the audience I will give him to-morrow.” Of 
 course the party needed no second bidding, but at once 
 went to the huts to prepare the feast which the generous 
 Katema had provided. In their hearts they voted him a 
 capital host for ministering to the inner man instead of de- 
 taining them by the long and monotonous ceremonies of a 
 public reception. 
 
 At the private interview accorded him, Livingstone was 
 still more amused by a repetition of Katema’s bombastic 
 speech—this time with some additions. Rising from his 
 
236 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 couch, and “looking as if he had fallen asleep tipsy, and 
 dreamed of his greatness,” Livingstone tells us, Katema 
 thus delivered himself: “I am the great Moene Katema 
 [Lord Katema], the father of Matiamyo. There is no one 
 in the country equal to Matiamvo and me. I have always 
 lived here, and my fathers before me. There is the house in 
 which my father lived. You found no human skulls near 
 the place where you camped? Well, I have never killed 
 any of the traders, as some have done. They all come to me; 
 they come in trust. I am the great Moene Katema, of 
 whom you have heard.” Nevertheless, Livingstone found 
 him possessed of a fine stock of both “humor and good 
 humor.” He put trust in him from the first, “for,” as he 
 pointedly remarks, “a man who shakes sides with mirth is 
 seldom very difficult to deal with.” 
 
 The personal appearance of the chief is thus described: 
 “He was a tall man about forty years of age; and his head 
 was ornamented with a helmet of beads and feathers. He 
 had on a once snuffbrown coat, with a broad band of tin- 
 sel dowu the arms, and carried in his hands a large tail 
 made of the caudal extremities of a number of gnus, which 
 had charms to it.” 
 
 On closer acquaintance Livingsioas found his estimate of 
 Katema’s character correct; for he was not only “not dif 
 ficult to deal with,” but he was most generously inclined. 
 Livingstone’s frank and courageous manner had a good ef- 
 fect upon the chief. THe soon intimated his purpose of send- 
 ing three guides with Livingstone into the country beyond. 
 He also told the explorer of a better route than that by 
 which he had planned to go. It was more northerly, and 
 hence much longer; but Livingstone did not mind this, 
 especially when the chief told him that it would take him 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 237 
 
 around many of the more dangerous and disagreeable of 
 the overflowed plains, and out of the direct course of the 
 slave-traders. Livingstone felt that he would be willing to 
 take almost any route in prefcrence to that cursed by the 
 “bitter Nemesis of the slave-trade.” 
 
 While at Katema’s town Livingstone rendered a most 
 important service to the chief. Unlike the Loanda and Ba- 
 londa chiefs, Katema had a fine herd of cattle raised from 
 two he had purchased from the Balabale many years be- 
 fore. They were beautiful animals, almost as white and 
 fully as graceful as elands. As they had been allowed to 
 run in a semi-wild state, they were now so shy that they 
 could scarcely be approached, Katema knew nothing of 
 obtaining the milk from them. When Livingstone spoke 
 to him of it he was greatly surprised; he did not see how 
 such a thing could be possible. Securing one of the least 
 timid of the cows, Livingstone showed Katema how to ex- 
 tract the milk from the udder. The chief was delighted 
 when he found that it was quite easy, and that he himself 
 could do it. Livingstone also showed him how, besides he- 
 ing drank, the milk could be put to the purposes of curding 
 and churning. Katema’s joy increased, and he declared 
 that there was nothing he would not do for Livingstone in 
 return. His joy and gratitude, however, did not cause him 
 to present a cow to Livingstone for meat; perhaps he did 
 not think of it. Livingstone was forced to kill one of his 
 own oxen, as the mouths of some of his men were daily 
 growing more and more “ bitter for want of tasting ox-flesh.” 
 The companion of the ox that had been slain seemed incon- 
 solable at his loss, and went about lowing piteously. For 
 many days he would take no food, and his cries were dis- 
 tressing. The Makololo, looking pitifully at the poor ani- 
 
23 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 mal, said: “ Poor fellow! poor fellow! ‘Now,’ he thinks, 
 ‘they will kill me as well as my friend, and I might as well 
 die of my own accord.’” Katema and his people, on the 
 other hand, thought that Livingstone had in some way be- 
 witched the ox, and begged him to give them a charm 
 against the animal. 
 
 Livingstone was much taken with Mozinkwa, the head 
 man of Katema’s village, and his wife—he had but one. 
 Both of them were above the average run of savage intel- 
 ligence. They lived in a little hut to themselves in the 
 midst of a large and well-tended garden. Their home 
 was a picture of neatness, order, and thrift. The garden 
 was inclosed by ‘a living and impenetrable wall of banyan- 
 and another tree threw its delightful shade about 
 their door-way. Mozinkwa and his wife were extensive 
 cultivators of cotton, which occupied a large field back of 
 the premises. In the garden grew many plants “ used as 
 
 trees,” 
 
 relishes to the insipid porridge of the district” —castor-oil 
 plants, Indian brignalls, yams, sweet potatoes, beans, and 
 peas. 
 
 Livingstone was much affected by the reverence paid him 
 by Mozinkwa and his good wife, and was most grateful for 
 their lavish hospitality. On parting with them he promised 
 to bring the wife enough cloth from “the white man’s coun- 
 try” to make her a dress. But, alas! on his return he 
 found the good woman dead, and the heart-broken Mozink- 
 wa moved away,as he could not bear to remain on the spot 
 where his faithful companion had died. 
 
 Quendende, the father-in-law of Katema, was quite a 
 character in his way. His personal appearance is thus de- 
 scribed by Livingstone: “A fine old man, with long woolly 
 hair reaching to the shoulders, parted on either side, and 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 239 
 
 the back hair gathered into a lump on the nape of the 
 neck.” He was a great snuff-taker, and spent much of his 
 time manufacturing the “ titillating powder” in a private 
 establishment planned and erected by himself, and which 
 had the pretensions, if not the facilities, of more modern 
 ones. Here Quendende dried the tobacco-leaves before a 
 fire until they were of the desired crispness, when they 
 were pounded in a mortar and pronounced ready for use. 
 Quendende entertained Livingstone and his whole party at 
 his cluster of huts, and occupied himself in teaching the 
 Makololo to take snuff. 
 
 On attempting missionary labor among Katema’s people, 
 Livingstone found them ready to listen, but dull of compre- 
 hension. They seemed deeply interested when he told them 
 of the mighty and gracious God who had sent his own Son 
 to earth to die for sinful men, and who had really died in 
 their stead. Livingstone described the last agony on the 
 cross in such a manner that the people were much moved, 
 and many of them cried out in the excess of feeling. And 
 all this, he assured them had been done through pure love 
 and pity for the lost souls of men, such as theirs were if 
 they did not accept this gracious Saviour who had come to 
 suffer and die for them. When he told them of any thing 
 else it did not seem to impress them much; but this story 
 of the Saviour, pierced by thorns and wounded by spears, 
 enduring death for the sins of others, even for those who 
 mocked and spit upon him, always wrought most power- 
 fully upon their feelings. 
 
 Livingstone made a deep impression upon Katema and 
 his people. On parting with them, many ran after him and 
 entreated him not to leave. His Makololo men had also 
 won the confidence of the people to such an extent that 
 
240 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 when they were departing the people said to them: “ How 
 we wish our children could go back with you to the Mako- 
 lolo country! Here they are all in danger of being sold.” 
 Poor creatures! they foresaw only too well the danger that 
 threatened them. On saying good-by to Katema, Living- 
 stone presented him with several small articles, at the same 
 time apologizing for the meager offering. But Katema was 
 delighted and expressed his thanks over and over again. 
 When Livingstone asked what he should bring him from 
 the coast, he smiled broadly while he said: “Any thing 
 from the white pecple’s country will please me greatly, and 
 make me very thankful; but, if you have a mind so to do, 
 you may bring me another coat just like this one,” pointing 
 to the old snuff-colored garment he wore, “as it is nearly 
 worn out.” Livingstone promised that he would keep the 
 request in mind, and the two parted with mutual expres- 
 sions of regard and good wishes. 
 
 The intrepid little band started from Katema’s town on 
 the 20th of February, 1854, in the presence of a vast con- 
 course of regretful people. Before they had proceeded 
 very far Livingstone had a novel experience. For the first 
 time since he had been in Africa he felt a cold wind blow- 
 ing from the north. Heretofore, in the country of the 
 Bechuana, the Makololo, the Barotse, and other South 
 African people, the cold winds had always blown from the 
 south. This recalled the invigorating breezes of his own 
 bonny highlands, and for a few moments home-sickness 
 threatened to overcome him. 
 
 The travelers skirted many flooded plains, a few of which 
 they were compelled to pass through. Luckily, however, 
 the water was not more than knee-deep in any place, and 
 often but ankle-deep. Still, it was sufficient to bring on 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 241 
 
 many threatening symptoms of sickness More than once 
 Livingstone received warning premonitions of the coming 
 on of his old malady, the fever; and but for the liberal 
 quantities of quinine with which he from time to time dosed 
 himself, he would doubtless have been stricken down. As 
 it was, he felt very weak and scarcely able to endure the 
 hardships of the way; but his resolute courage and intrepid 
 will forced him forward. His one passionate desire was to 
 reach the coast, and the “only dread that seemed to possess 
 him was that he might succumb before accomplishing his 
 purpose.” 
 
 On getting over the flooded plains the party came some- 
 what suddenly upon higher lands. Here, upon an almost 
 level yet considerably elevated plateau, Livingstone found 
 the water-shed of the northern and southern streams. The 
 streams running toward the north fell into the Kasai, or 
 Loke; and this, in turn, emptied into the great river Con- 
 go, since called Livingstone River. The streams on the 
 south unite to pour into the Zambesi. Passing beyond this 
 plateau, Livingstone saw some of the deepest and most 
 beautiful valleys his eyes ever gazed upon. Indeed, their 
 great fertility was a revelation to him. As each of the 
 valleys was drained by a running stream, it was not ren- 
 dered unhealthy by innumerable pools of stagnant water , 
 nor were the trees impeded in their growth by standing in 
 these slimy pools, but grew to a great height and with much 
 -luxuriance. Many of them reared their tops to the dis- 
 tance of one hundred and fifty and two hundred feet, with 
 “sixty and eighty feet of clean, straight trunk ere the 
 branches were reached.” In every direction the earth was 
 covered with a luxuriant carpet of grasses, bespangled 
 with gay clusters of nodding wild flowers, whose rich per- 
 
 16 
 
242 ‘ ‘LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 fume filled all the air. The people of this pleasant and 
 beautiful country were not in accord with it. They at 
 first refused to give the travelers any food unless they were 
 compensated by a liberal supply of gunpowder. As Liv- 
 ingstone had not an ounce of this valuable commodity to 
 spare, the whole party seemed doomed to perish with hun- 
 ger. But luckily after awhile they came to a village near 
 the Kasai, ruled over by a chief named Kangenke. He 
 was not inclined to “play the generous host;” still, in con- 
 sideration of a small quantity of beads and a yard or two 
 of cloth, he gave the famishing men food, and sent guides 
 with them to show the way over the river. As they were 
 passing over the Kasai one of Kangenke’s guides, pointing 
 to the current, said: “ Though you sail along it for months 
 you will turn without seeing the end of it.” As the Kasai 
 and its tributaries unite to form the Congo, which “falls 
 into the Atlantic Ocean four degrees north of Loanda,” 
 whither Livingstone was bound, its course was “ long enough 
 to give these untraveled savages a high notion of its ex- 
 tent.” 
 
 On crossing the Kasai, they found the tribes on the 
 farther bank were so inhospitable and avaricious that food 
 could not be obtained at all save in return for some article 
 or articles from their now fast-diminishing stores. Neither 
 was there any game in these woods, not so much as an ante- 
 lope or a buck; or if there was, they did not chance to 
 come upon it. The evening after they had crossed the 
 river one of the guides sent by Kangenke caught a blue 
 mole and two mice, which he dressed for his supper, much 
 to the envy of the other and less fortunate and much fam- 
 ished men who looked on. All this began to tell upon Liv- 
 ingstone, who was already run down by the fatigues and 
 
. 
 
 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 2 245 
 
 hardships of the journey. In a few days he had become 
 so weak that he could not have held his gun straight, even 
 if there had been any thing to invite his fire. Fever had 
 also set In. again, in spite of his liberal doses of quinine. 
 The following is a revolting picture of the people among 
 whom the explorers now found themselves: “ In most eases 
 they were outwardly very repulsive. Never seen without a 
 elub or a spear in their hands, the men seemed only to de 
 light in plunder and slaughter, and yet they were utter 
 cowards. Their mouths were full of cursing and bitter 
 ness. The execrations they poured on one another were in- 
 eredible. In very wantonness, when they met they would 
 pelt each other with curses, and then perhaps burst into a fit 
 of laughter. The women, like the men, went about in almosi 
 total nudity, and seemed to know no shame. So reckless 
 of human life were the chiefs that a man might be put t 
 death for a single distasteful word.” Yet, despite all this, 
 there were redeeming sides to the picture. Sometimes Liv- 
 Ingstone was surprised by an unwented exhibition of ten- 
 derness. The head man of one of the villages once showed 
 him the remains of a burned hut in which his favorite child 
 had been consumed. “She perished in it,” he said with 
 deep feeling, “and we have all removed from our own huts 
 and built here around her in order to weep over her grave.” 
 Katende, chief of one of the villages near which they 
 passsed, sent a very insulting message to Livingstone, de- 
 elarmg that he must send him either “a man, some tusks, 
 beads, copper rings, or a shell, before he could be allowed 
 to go on through the country.” Livingstone sent him one 
 of his shirts, an article he could ill spare, together with the 
 reply that, “if he liked, he might come and take any thing 
 else, in which case he would reach his own chief naked. 
 
244 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 and have to account for it by telling him that the chief Ka- 
 tende had taken them.” This reference to Livingstone’s 
 chief, and the suggestion of possible future vengeance, so 
 frightened Katende that he dispatched the party word to 
 go on, and sent them some meal, manioc-roots, and a pair 
 ot fowls. However, he retained the shirt. 
 
 After leaving Katende’s town they came to a river with 
 a wooden bridge. Here a “pikeman” appeared and de- 
 manded toll before he would let them over. They offered 
 him one thing and another, but nothing pleased him except 
 the copper bracelets of the Makololo. It took three of 
 these bracelets to pay the toll, and even then the greedy 
 pikeman was not half satisfied; to the last he looked covet- 
 ously upon the remaining bracelets. 
 
 Their way now lay across a country intersected by flooded 
 streams, many of which were difficult to cross. Through 
 more than one of them they had to swim, with their little 
 possessions in bundles upon their heads. The Makololo 
 were surprised to see Livingstone swim across in his clothes, 
 and to do it as well as they could without any. They had 
 not known before that he could swim at all. From that time 
 they had a higher opinion of his possibilities, and frequently 
 showed their contempt for difficulties as long as they had 
 Livingstone to guide them. They would say: “He swam 
 the river in his clothes. He can take us through any 
 thing.” Wonderful confidence to have in the powers of 
 one poor, weak, half-sick man! Yet what a host he was in 
 himself, when we come to think of it, weakened though he 
 was by exposure and worn down by disease! But it was 
 not merely the little episode at the river that had strength- 
 ened their faith in Livingstone. They had seen him 
 tempted and tried; they had seen difficulties heaped in his 
 
a 
 
 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 245 
 
 way—difficulties sufficient to dishearten any mortal man— 
 yet he had emerged from them all triumphantly. No 
 wonder they felt firmly established within their souls the 
 old rock-built trust of Ruth: “ Whither thou goest we will 
 go, and where thou diest there will we die also.” O the 
 beauty and the grandeur and the strength that lie in a 
 pure and unflinching devotion toa noble aim! O the pos- 
 sibilities within the scope of him who is girded “in God’s 
 own might!” 
 In God’s own might 
 
 We gird us for the coming fight, 
 
 And, strong in him whose cause is ours, 
 
 Tn conflict with unholy powers 
 
 We grasp the weapons he has given— 
 
 The light and truth and lc ve of heaven. 
 
CHAPTER Zvi 
 
 DESPERATE STRAITS—THE HOSTILE CHIBOQUE — LIVINGSTONE’S 
 CALMNESS AND COURAGE SAVE THE PARTY—SEIZED WITH FEVER 
 —THE MEN THREATEN MUTINY—A DECISIVE MOMENT—LIVING- 
 STONE’S NERVE — THE HEARTS OF THE MAKOLOLO FAIL THEM — 
 A GLOOMY SUNDAY—LIGHT THROUGH THE CLOUDS—“ CHILDREN 
 OF JESUS”—NEARING THE PORTUGUESE SETTLEMENTS—ACROSS 
 THE QUANGO—HOSPITALITY OF THE PEOPLE—IN SIGHT OF THE 
 SEA—REST AT LAST. 
 
 N reaching the Chiboque country Livingstone and 
 his men were beset by the most desperate troubles _ 
 
 and dangers they had yet encountered. Their supply of 
 provisions was exhausted—they had not a pound of any 
 thing on hand. There was no alternative but to kill one of 
 the riding oxen. The poor creature had been reduced to 
 mere skin and bones through the lack of proper nourishment. 
 As was the custom, a quarter of this ox was sent to the 
 chief of the nearest village, praying his hospitality. Of 
 this act he at the time took no further notice than to greed- 
 ily accept the beef and order the men who had brought it 
 to go back whence they came. The next day was Sunday. 
 As Livingstone was on his knees imploring suecor from that 
 Source that had never failed him, a message arrived from 
 the chief. He now affected contempt for the quarter of beef, 
 and demanded more valuable presents. Among these were 
 itemized “a man, a whole ox, some powder, or a bundle of 
 cloth.” As Livingstone had none of these last to give, and 
 
 would have yielded his own life rather than have given the 
 (246) 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 247 
 
 first, he so informed the chief—at the same time adding, 
 with his wonted courage, that he was ready for any thing 
 that the chief might will. 
 
 A few hours after the sending of this message a band of 
 the Chiboque arrived. It was plain to see from their make- 
 up that their intentions were not friendly. Livingstone, 
 anticipating trouble, had in the meantime placed his men 
 on the defensive. When the Chiboque saw the bold cour: 
 age with which the men had prepared for the attack, they 
 lost much of their self-assurance, and began to run hither 
 and thither all out of order, brandishing their swords and 
 axes aimlessly, and making all manner of high-sounding 
 threats. Seeing that they were not going to fight, Living- 
 stone took a seat upon a camp-stool with his double-barreled 
 gun across his knees and quietly awaited events. Finally 
 the Chiboque chief consented to come into the circle with 
 some of his men and take a seat near Livingstone, for the 
 purpose of talking matters over. The chief was still clam- 
 orous fora man, an ox, ora gun. After considerable par- 
 leying, Livingstone gave him a bunch of beads and a large 
 handkerchief. But, instead of satisfying him, these things 
 only made him greedier for others, Livingstone was deter- 
 mined on giving him no more if he could help it, and 
 equally as determined not to spill blood. It was a trying 
 moment—perhaps the most trying through which he had 
 been called to pass—and required that he should keep that 
 splendid courage of his from wavering a hair’s-breadth. At 
 length, gaining something of an insight into the character 
 of the man with whom he had to deal, and noting how 
 ready his little band were to fight, the chief agreed to com- 
 promise the matter with an ox. A poor, tired beast, that 
 seemed unable to go much farther, was given to him on his 
 
248 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 promise to send them something to eat. All that ever came | 
 from him was a small basket of meal and a leg of the same 
 ox that Livingstone had given him. But Livingstone was 
 glad to be allowed to go on undisturbed, and did not stop to 
 press his rights. 
 
 New dangers and difficulties still arose. They were be- 
 set on every side. Hostile bands of natives repeatedly 
 threatened to attack them. For days they were without 
 any food except a few berries and roots found in the forests. 
 The terror of the situation was great indeed when Living- 
 stone was stricken down with the fever, and some of his 
 men, rendered desperate by hunger, strove to excite the 
 others to mutiny. One Sunday, as he lay in his tent so 
 sick that he could barely move his head from side to side, 
 there was a dreadful din on the outside. It was a collision 
 between those of his men who wanted to remain with him 
 and those who seemed determined to desert and go back. 
 He put his weary head through an opening in the tent and 
 commanded silence. Loud, scornful laughs alone greeted 
 him. Feeling that every thing would be lost—the weaker 
 being compelled to succumb to the stronger—if some sort 
 of authority was not exercised at once, he aroused himself 
 to the emergency. It was a fearful strain upon his wasted 
 strength, and called for every atom of will-power there 
 was within him. Springing from his rug, he seized a pistol 
 and darted from the tent. When they caught sight of his 
 determined face the principal conspirators started off on a 
 run. Pointing the pistol at them, he ordered them back. 
 They came meekly, with crest-fallen countenances. He told 
 them that he alone was master, and intended to be to the 
 end of the journey. Then, noting how subdued they were, 
 he began talking kindly to them. He assured them that 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 249 
 
 in every thing he meant well by them; that he would lay 
 down his life for them, if need be. In proof of this he 
 begged them to recall the many times he had said, in answer 
 to the demands of impudent chiefs for a man, that he would 
 die rather than yield one of them up to slavery. He then 
 called on them to witness his own suffering, which was 
 greater than any of theirs. In conclusion he entreated 
 them to have courage and faith, believing that the hard- 
 ships and dangers they were enduring would soon end, for 
 he had besought the Almighty One in their behalf, and he 
 would hear the prayer. It is almost needless to say that Liv- 
 ingstone’s courage and his gentle yet firm remonstrance effect- 
 ually quelled all mutinous inclinations of his followers. 
 Day after day the chiefs of the tribes became more ex- 
 acting in their demands. Almost hourly a fight seemed 
 imminent, and the men of the expedition had to be con- 
 stantly on the defensive. At last even the hearts of the 
 brave and faithfal Makololo failed them, and they began 
 to weep, bemoaning their lot and begging most piteously to 
 be carried back to their pleasant homes. This was tortur- 
 ing to Livingstone—more trying than the threatened mu- 
 tiny had been. He was sincerely attached to these men. 
 They had followed him unmurmuringly through dangers 
 and trials enough to have dismayed the stoutest hearts; 
 they had obeyed without a question his every command: 
 they had even faced death with him time and again, un- 
 flinchingly ; but now they were completely broken down in 
 body and spirit; fierce hunger gnawed at their vitals, and 
 they were no longer men, but children. Livingstone’s 
 heart bled when he thought of their sufferings. and he 
 asked himself over and over if he had done right in bring- 
 ing them with him. All his powers of soothing and per- 
 
250 - LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. a 
 
 suasion utterly failed to revive their drooping spirits, and 
 he went into his tent to pray—to seek aid from that One 
 who alone could help him now. While he was addressing 
 that Ear that never turns away from an earnest, heart-felt 
 petition, his prayer seemed almost miraculously answered. 
 One of his chief men came into his tent, and seeing him 
 upon his knees, fell down beside him, saying: “ We will 
 never leave you, father. Do not be disheartened. | Wher- 
 ever you lead we will follow.” Nor did this man speak for 
 himself alone. When Livingstone came to the tent-door 
 he was met by the others with the same protestations. “ We 
 will never leave you,” they said, “never mind where you 
 may take us. We will trust you to the last. We are all 
 your children; we know no one but Sekeletu and you, and 
 we would die for you.” They were true to their word ever 
 afterward. Not once did they show the least wish to de- 
 sert him, A newspirit seemed to have entered into them— 
 a new spirit of love and devotion. 
 
 Soon after this episode the party were troubled by a 
 chief who demanded valuable gifts. Livingstone simply 
 answered by defying him; but no hostile demonstrations 
 were made, and the travelers were allowed to pass unmo- 
 lested. The Makololo men lavishly praised Livingstone’s 
 managing ability, and loudly asserted their belief in that 
 higher and mightier Power upon whom he was constantly 
 calling for aid. They said: “ We do not fear now. We 
 are your children and Jesus’s.” How quick had Liying- 
 stone’s God answered his passionate prayer! Here were 
 the same downcast Makololo of the week before, now buoy- 
 ant and hopeful, declaring themselves “children of Jesus,” 
 and as such fearing no danger, dreading no death! 
 
 The love and devotion of Livingstone’s men for him were 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 251 
 
 proved not long after this, when the ox he was riding threw 
 him into theriver. More than twenty of them made a rush 
 for him, and each one afterward regretted that he had not 
 been the fortunate man to bring him to the shore. 
 
 On the 24th of March the expedition approached the 
 Portuguese territory. Livingstone had now to part with 
 Shinte’s shell—most reluctantly, as we may suppose—in 
 order to procure guides to lead him to the “ white man’s 
 country,” as the settlements beyond the Quango were called. 
 Here, too, he dismissed the men Shinte and Katema had 
 sent, which was according to the agreement he had entered 
 into with the chiefs. Only himself and his trusted Makololo 
 were left to finish the journey. As they drew nearer the 
 Portuguese settlements they found “the conditions and cir- 
 cumstances of travel growing more and more propitious.” 
 Here is one of Livingstone’s graphic pictures of this part 
 of their journey: ‘‘ Every village swarms with children, 
 who turn out to see the white man pass, and run along with 
 strange cries and antics; some run up trees to get a good 
 view; all are agile climbers throughout Loanda. At 
 friendly villages they have scampered along-side our party 
 for miles at a time. We usually madea little hedge around 
 our sheds; crowds of women came to the entrance of it, 
 with children on their backs, and long pipes in their mouths, 
 gazing at us for hours. The men, rather than disturb them, 
 erawled through a hole in the hedge; and it was common 
 to hear a man, in running off, say to them: ‘I am going to 
 tell my mamma to come and see the white man’s oxen!’ ” 
 
 On the 30th of March, when so weak from repeated at- 
 tacks of the fever that he had to be led by his faithful Ma- 
 kololo to keep him from falling, Livingstone reached a 
 stretch of high ground overlooking a beautiful and fertile 
 
252 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 valley through which flowed a broad and glistening river. 
 Here and there grew dense clumps of trees, while clusters 
 of brilliant wild-flowers lent gladness and gayety to all the 
 scene. Far away along the horizon stretched lofty mount- 
 ain-ranges, their majestic fronts crowned with a deep-blue 
 haze. As weak as he was, Livingstone could have shouted 
 aloud for joy on recognizing that noble river as the Quango, 
 and realizing that beyond it lay hospitable territory. But 
 his troubles were not yet over. The Bashinge, a tribe on 
 the side of the river where the party were encamped, made 
 themselves so troublesome that Livingstone feared he would 
 never get past them alive. The chiefs were most violent in 
 their demands; but they might as well have demanded the 
 moon, or any other unattainable thing, so utterly was it out 
 of the power of the broken-down little band to grant the 
 requests made. They were themselves in need of donations, 
 and must have moved to compassion the hearts of any other 
 people in the world. These savages were surely carried be- 
 yond themselves by the greed of gain. Nearly every thing 
 the Livingstone party had started with on this journey had 
 been sacrificed. Only Sekeletu’s tusks, Livingstone’s in- 
 struments, and the clothes worn by the men were left. The 
 clothes were in such tatters that they could not even lay 
 claim to the name of apparel. Made desperate by hunger 
 and the tantalizing nearness of friendly succor, the explor- 
 ers determined to march on through the hostile Bashinge, 
 and attempt the passage of the river, even if they fell by 
 the way. 
 
 Arrived at the Quango, a fierce-looking Bashinge chief 
 presented himself with the request for “a man, an ox, or a 
 gun,” which had to be paid, he vowed, before they would 
 be permitted to cross the river. It was a desperate moment 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 2538 
 
 They knew not what to do, for the chief was accompanied 
 by a band of men equally as fierce-looking as himself. 
 Livingstone’s heart sunk like lead in his bosom. Surely 
 God had at last deserted them. But no! Even while his 
 worn and haggard face turned toward the unsmiling heav- 
 ens in the last entreaty of soul-born prayer, the help that 
 had never yet failed them came. Just as they deemed 
 every thing lost, a young half-caste Portuguese sergeant by 
 the name of Cypriano de Abreu made his appearance, and 
 compelled the chief to let Livingstone and his men cross 
 the river. Cypriano himself ferried the party over; and 
 their great joy, when a half-hour later they found them- 
 selves on the other side of the river and in friendly terri- 
 tory, can be imagined but not described. 
 
 After crossing the Quango, Livingstone and his Makololo 
 entered upon a vast prairie-like expanse covered with a 
 dense growth of grass. In many places this grass was 
 seven or eight feet high, and completely hid the travelers 
 from, view as they went onward. Three miles beyond the 
 river they came to a cluster of neat, square houses, in front 
 of which were groups of men dressed in military uniform. 
 This proved to be a Portuguese barracks, over which their 
 new-found friend, Cypriano, had command—it being an off- 
 shoot of the larger post farther on. The young sergeant 
 must have had a warm, sympathetic heart, which was 
 greatly touched by their forlorn appearance, for he caused 
 each one to be entertained as bountifully as the place would 
 afford. Livingstone describes the first meal at the Portu- 
 guese barracks as “a most sumptuous one,” consisting of 
 roasted maize, ground nuts, boiled manioc-roots, with gua- 
 vas and honey for dessert. Poor fellow! he would have 
 deemed any nourishing edible “sumptuous” after his long 
 
254 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 fast and his former subsistence upon roots and_ berries. 
 Livingstone’s reference to an act he felt tempted to commit 
 during the progress of the first meal is pathetic: “I sus- 
 vect I appeared particularly ravenous to the other gentle- 
 men around the table. Had they not been present I might 
 have put something in my pocket to eat by night.” They 
 remained with Cypriano three or four days. He not only 
 ransacked his garden to feed them, but slaughtered an ox, 
 which caused the starving Makololo to shout aloud with joy. 
 On parting with the young sergeant he gracefully crowned 
 his other good deeds by presenting them with enough food 
 to last several days. 
 
 On the 13th of April, after three days of unusually hard 
 traveling, Livingstone and his men arrived at Cassange, 
 “the farthest inland station of the Portuguese in West 
 Africa.” The commandant of the barracks invited Livy- 
 ingstone to supper and to spend the night with him, an 
 gave his men directions to provide well for the Makololo. 
 He supplemented this kindness in the morning by present- 
 ing Livingstone with a suit of clothes and pressing him to 
 remain several days, until he was somewhat recruited in 
 health. Livingstone decided to remain, and during his en- 
 tire stay at Cassange the commandant acted the part of a 
 brother in all things. 
 
 The tusks that had been given to Livingstone by Sekele- 
 tu were sold at Cassange, and many needful articles bought. 
 The Makololo could scarcely credit it when they learned the 
 true value of the ivory. To them the price seemed fabu- 
 ous. For instance, one of the tusks purchased two mus- 
 kets, three small barrels of gunpowder, a lot of beads, and 
 English baize and calico sufficient to furnish clothing for 
 the whole party. With another tusk Livingstone bought 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 259 
 
 enough calico to pay their way thence to the coast, for as 
 ealico was the current money of the districts he well knew 
 the need of it. The remaining two tusks were sold for 
 money, which Livingstone laid aside to buy a horse for Se- 
 keletu. 
 
 As the party left Cassange—Livingstone much strength- 
 ened by his rest, and the Makololo happy and radiant in 
 their new clothes—the whole population turned out to see 
 them off. Even the merchants left their stores and stood 
 in groups along the way to bid them Godspeed. Living- 
 stone appreciated this exhibition of interest and regard, 
 and felt the deepest gratitude for the unvarying hospitality 
 with which he had been treated by every one in Cassange. 
 “We parted,” says he, “ with the feeling in my mind that 
 I should never forget their disinterested kindness. May 
 God remember them in their day of need.” 
 
 All was smooth marching now. The dangers and terrors 
 that had so long menaced their way were left far behind. 
 All about them were friends, while among their stores was 
 an abundant supply of articles with which to buy food and 
 entertainment. As they came nearer to the sea the Mako- 
 lolo began to get frightened; for now a distrust, the seeds 
 of which had been sown by a party of mischief-making 
 Mambari some distance back, was finding lodgment in their 
 
 hearts—a distrust of Livingstone’s real intention in carry- 
 ing them to the coast. “ He is taking you there to sell you 
 for slaves,” the Mambari had whispered in their ears; and 
 although they did not heed it then, they thought of it now; 
 and the more they thought of it the more the tiny seeds 
 swelled into life, until they burst into full-grown plants of 
 suspicion. They now recalled all the terrible things they 
 
 had seen and heard in the Balonda country. Livingstone 
 
256 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 observed their strange actions, and from a conversation he 
 chanced to hear learned what ailed them. He called them 
 together and, facing them squarely, said: “I see what you 
 are driving at; and if you suspect me you may return, for 
 I am as ignorant of Loanda as you are; but nothing will 
 happen to you but what happens to myself. We have stood 
 by each other hitherto, and will do so to the last.” This 
 manly and straightforward speech was not without its effect 
 upon them. They grew heartily ashamed of their suspi- 
 cions, and as memory carried them back to the many times 
 Livingstone stood between them and death, or a fate worse 
 than death, they fell upon their knees in front of him and 
 begged his forgiveness. 
 
 On first coming in sight of the broad and boundless sea, 
 the Makololo were transfixed with wonder. It was like 
 suddenly beholding a new world—or, rather, the end of the 
 one in which they had all along lived; for they said of it 
 afterward, when describing their feelings on that occasion: 
 “We marched along with our father, believing that what 
 the ancients had always told us was true—that the world 
 has no end; but all at once the world said to us: ‘I am fin- 
 ished; there is no more of me.’ ” 
 
 As they drew near the end of their journey grave doubts 
 and fears began to seize Livingstone. How would he be 
 received? What good, after all, would result from this 
 undertaking? Would he find friends here to help him 
 through with the great enterprise he had on foot, and for 
 which he had sacrificed so much? or would it all fall back 
 upon himself? Would there be one ear to listen, one hand 
 to raise itself in unison with his, one heart to catch and 
 retain the fire of his own enthusiasm, one other brain to 
 help him plan toward the success of the end? Ah! surely, 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 257 
 
 surely it must be. He had heard that out of a population 
 of twelve thousand souls there was but one genuine En- 
 glish gentleman in Loanda. This was Mr. Gabriel, the 
 English commissioner for the suppression of the slave-trade. 
 The very title sounded inviting, but would the gentleman 
 himself be found equally so? How would he receive the 
 “ friendless, penniless, powerless” man who came entreating 
 succor not only for himself, but for others? Would he prove 
 to be a gentleman “ possessed of good-nature, or one of those 
 crusty mortals one would rather not meet at all?” These 
 were the speculations that revolved through Livingstone’s 
 mind as he toiled down the steep declivity leading to the 
 city of Loanda. He was indeed a most pitiful-looking ob- 
 ject, notwithstanding the care and attention he had received 
 from the kind-hearted Portuguese during the last few days. 
 He was greatly emaciated; he had a distressing cough; his 
 old malady, the fever, was not yet cured; and all these 
 bodily woes were increased by “ dysentery of the most 
 aggravated character.” He had barely entered Mr. Ga- 
 briel’s porch when “a good omen gladdened him.” Beau- 
 tiful flowers and shrubs of various kinds were blooming in 
 pots on every side. “Ah! surely,” thought Livingstone, 
 “the man who loves flowers, and who takes the pains to cul- 
 tivate them, must have a warm and sympathetic heart.” 
 Nor was he mistaken. The welcome afforded the worn and 
 weary man was all that he could have desired. The first 
 thing the warm-hearted Mr. Gabriel did was to put Living- 
 stone to bed. “ Never,” says he, “shall I forget the luxu- 
 riant pleasure I enjoyed in feeling myself again on a good 
 English couch after six months’ sleeping on the ground.” 
 He was soon asleep, and the good Mr. Gabriel, coming in 
 shortly afterward, rejoiced greatly at the soundness of his 
 17 
 
258 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 repose. At last he had come to the end of his journey, for a 
 time at least—this steadfast “ soldier of the cross ; ” at last all 
 the terrors and dangers of the way were over, and as a child 
 upon its mother’s breast he laid him down to his hard- 
 earned rest in the house of bis friends. All the “toils of 
 the way ” seemed as nothing, now that he had found sweet 
 repose. O pilgrim, toiling toward that other and fairer city 
 where there is rest forever, take heart, and remember 
 That city to which you are going 
 Will more than your trials repay; 
 
 For all the toils of the road will seem nothing 
 When you get to the end of your way! 
 
CHAPTER AVI. 
 
 VHE MYSTERY CLEARED—LIVINGSTONE’S DANGEROUS ILLNESS AND 
 HIS RECOVERY—HE CALLS UPON THE BISHOP—THE MAKOLOLO 
 MAKE A FINE IMPRESSION—FREE PASSAGES TO ENGLAND ARE 
 OFFERED LIVINGSTONE—THE HEROIC STAND FOR DUTY—HE 
 TAKES HIS MEN ON SHIPBOARD—THEIR WONDER AT THE STRANGE 
 SIGHTS—THE DEPARTURE FROM LOANDA 
 MERCHANTS—THE RETURN THROUGH THE PORTUGUESE SETTLE- 
 MENTS—INCIDENTS OF THE WAY—PITSANE’S LITTLE RUSE—AT 
 KATEMA’S TOWN—SHINTE’S—HOME AGAIN. 
 
 GENEROSITY OF THE 
 
 IVINGSTONE reached Loanda on the 31st day of 
 a May, 1854—just six months and twenty days after 
 the time he started out. And now, what had been accom- 
 plished, what discovered, through this journey? Many, 
 many things. First of all, he had cleared up the mystery 
 concerning South Central Africa. He had found it, as he 
 had hoped, a country watered by numerous streams. He 
 had also found that instead of being the vast and sandy 
 desert many had pictured it—even the better informed of 
 the geographers—it was a fertile and populous region, 
 where grew all manner of vegetation. Best of all, he 
 found fully one-half of the streams navigable, or in a con- 
 dition to be rendered navigable at no very great outlay. 
 The only drawbacks were the rapids and shoals in some of 
 the rivers, and the inhospitable and warlike spirit of many 
 of the tribes along the banks. But what engineering skill 
 might do for the one, could not the humanizing and civiliz- 
 ing influence of the great plan of honest and remunerative 
 
 commerce he had on foot do for the other? 
 (259) 
 
260 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONF. 
 
 The hardships and exposures to which Livingstone had 
 been subjected produced a serious effect upon him, as was 
 inevitable. He lay at the point of death for several week; 
 during which time he received unremitting care and atten- 
 tion from his new-found friends at Loanda. But he did 
 not die, although at one time even the physicians thought 
 his case hopeless. God had too great a need on earth for 
 his faithful servant to call him away from the work he had 
 so grandly begun. Ina month he was up and out. His 
 first call was upon the bishop of the port. He took with 
 him his faithful Makololo, all neatly dressed in their cotton 
 stripes. The Portuguese prelate was greatly impressed by 
 this meeting, and Livingstone went away hoping and beliey- 
 ing that the handful of tiny seed he had scattered behind 
 him would eventually spring forth with the beauty and 
 vigor of the mustard-bush, sheltering many in its branches. 
 
 Although able to be up again, Livingstone looked so 
 worn, so much run down, that several commanders of En- 
 glish vessels that touched at Loanda, during that time offered 
 him free passages, and tried to induce him to return home 
 at least for awhile, until he had partially recruited his 
 health. The captain of Her Majesty’s ship, the “ Forerun- 
 ner,” was particularly urgent in his offer. But against them 
 all—against the tempting prospect of soon rejoining his 
 dearly beloved ones—he firmly held out. After all that he 
 had suffered, not one word could have been said against the 
 justness of his going. But Livingstone had passed his word 
 to Sekeletu that unless hindered by Providence he would 
 bring the Makololo safe to their homes again; and that 
 promise he meant to keep at any cost. The risks, the 
 dangers of travel—even the fearful ravages of the fever-— 
 would again be endured to redeem his pledge to the faithful 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 261 
 
 Sekeletu. O what a man was this!—a man of whom it 
 might well be said, “Behold in him the noblest work of 
 God!” How many of us, thus tempted, tried, and allured, 
 could turn our backs upon the flowery plains of ease and 
 comfort, and, facing the stony front of toil and suffering, 
 ery with an honest ring, “Thou first, O Duty?” When we 
 contemplate the life of this man, and find that the rugged 
 grandeur and devotion of his manhood had never suffered 
 by any contrast nor been impaired by any test, we feel that 
 there is no sacrilege in our reverence for him. In thus 
 honoring the man, we surely honor more the God who made 
 him. 
 
 While at Loanda Livingstone took his Makololo on board 
 an Enelish vessel that was lying in the harbor. He said 
 to them as he pointed to the sailors: “These are all my 
 countrymen, sent by our Queen for the purpose of putting 
 down the trade of those who buy and sell black men.” ‘The 
 Makololo replied, as they gazed about them with fascina- 
 tion: “Truly, dear father, they are just like you.” Every 
 thing they saw on the ship filled them with new wonder. 
 The sailors were very kind to them, giving them a part of 
 their dinner, and showing them all the interesting objects 
 on board. They even asked the captain to let them fire off a 
 eannon for the benefit of the Makololo. His consent was 
 givenatonce. When the cannon was discharged the Mako- 
 iolo were much startled by the report and the reverbera- 
 tions, but after the smoke had cleared away they clapped 
 their hands and showed their delight like little children. 
 As the smoke from the great gun wreathed about them, 
 Livingstone said: “That is what we put down the slave- 
 trade with.” They were much pleased to hear that, and 
 approached the cannon and examined it more closely. But 
 
262 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 the ship itself excited their wonder and curiosity more than 
 any thing else. They said to Livingstone: “You told us it 
 was a boat. Why, it is not a boat at all! It is a town! 
 And,” looking up in astonishment at this moment to where 
 some of the sailors were hanging among the shrouds, “ what 
 kind of a town is that where you must climb into it by 
 ropes?” 
 
 The Makololo became favorites with the people, especially 
 with the sailors, around Loanda. They were given steady 
 work to do, and were well paid for it. Sometimes they 
 helped load or unload vessels; again they colleeted fire- 
 wood, which they sold to the towns-people. In this way 
 they accumulated money to buy many articles of use and 
 ornament to take with them to their country. But the 
 time had now come for the plucky adventurers to turn their 
 backs upon the hospitable shores of Loanda and their faces 
 toward the dangers and privations that lay in the home- 
 ward journey. The merchants of Loanda so fully ap- 
 proved Livingstone’s scheme of opening up the west coast 
 to trade with Central Africa that they promised to aid 
 him to their utmost ability should the undertaking ever as- 
 sume definite shape. As a proof of their good intention — 
 and of their friendly interest in the natives, they provided 
 handsomely for the little expedition about to start upon 
 its return. They also gave many presents to the Mako- 
 lolo individually. So many gifts were sent to Sekeletu 
 that for a time the party scarcely knew how to take care of 
 them; but at last they were all stored away for transporta- 
 tion. Among these presents were a horse, saddle, and bridle, 
 . anda colonel’s uniform, from the bishop. The merchants 
 sent several bales of cloth and packages of beads, two don- 
 keys, etc., besides a musket and a liberal supply of ammu- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 263 
 
 nition for each of the Makololo. Mr. Gabriel presented 
 each with a suit of fine cotton stripes and a red cap, while 
 the bishop bestowed upon them a nice cotton blanket apiece. 
 In addition, the merchants gave them orders to a number 
 of friends along the route for supplies of every kind—one 
 of these orders being for ten oxen. Among the trophies 
 the Makololo carried back to exhibit to their people were 
 many very fine fowls. 
 
 Thus equipped, they bade farewell to Loanda on the 20th 
 of September, 1854. The first part of their route lay 
 through the Portuguese settlements, and over much of the 
 way they had come. They were again most kindly enter- 
 tained by their old friends, the commandant and the ser- 
 geant. They had not gone far when first one and then an- 
 other of the men were seized with malarial fever. This ne- 
 cessitated frequent stoppages, and it was not until the 20th 
 of December that they reached the village of Pungo Adon- 
 go, still in the Portuguese settlements. Here Livingstone 
 was entertained by Colonel Pries, a wealthy planter; and 
 here too he learned the sorrowful news that the “ Forerun- 
 ner”—the ship by which he had sent numerous dispatches 
 and papers to England, including a journal of the march 
 to Loanda 
 
 had gone down at sea with every thing and 
 nearly every soul on board. This was the very ship in 
 which he would have sailed had he yielded to persuasion 
 and embarked for England. With characteristic patience 
 and determination, Livingstone began the task of reproduc- 
 ing his dispatches while with Colonel Pries. The under- 
 taking was truly herculean, especially for a man in his 
 weakened condition; and it is remarkable that he accom. 
 plished in a few weeks what it would doubtless have taken 
 other men months to effect. Says one of his biographers 
 
264 -. LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 “The labor thus entailed must have been very great, for 
 his ordinary letters covered sheets almost as large as a news- 
 paper, and his maps and dispatches were produced with ex- 
 traordinary care.” 
 
 After emerging from the eastern frontier of the Portu- 
 guese settlements, Livingstone turned considerably south- 
 ward of the route over which he had come on the previous 
 journey. He did this in order to avoid many of the hos- 
 tile tribes encountered before. On this course the tangled 
 vines were so dense that the party had often to stop and cut 
 them away before any progress could be made. Sometimes 
 the bales carried by the donkeys and oxen would be jerked 
 from their backs and thrown to the ground. 
 
 The men of the country southward from the Portuguese 
 settlements were great dandies, and seemed to care more for 
 the ornamentation of their bodies and of their belongings 
 than for any thing else. They wore their hair on their shoul- 
 ders and dripping with oil. Their bodies were also saturated, 
 and their clothes were thickly smeared with the unctuous 
 compound. They went about playing upon all sorts of 
 rudely devised musical instruments, like the love-sick 
 troubadours of old. These instruments were all decorated 
 with strips of gay-colored cloths. Their guns, when they 
 carried any, bore the same style of decoration. The women 
 were not far behind the men in affectation and vanity. 
 Their especial hobby was the raising of dogs for lap pets, 
 and it was no unusual thing to see one belle followed by a 
 dozen of these canine favorites. But this picture lost its 
 attractiveness when it was learned that many of the dogs 
 were fattened for the owners to eat. 
 
 At one point on the journey Livingstone came upon some 
 Portuguese traders who were traveling with a gang of 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 265 
 
 slaves. The situation was such that there was no alterna- 
 tive but to travel awhile in their company. One of the 
 slave-girls was very ill. It was all she could do to walk, but 
 her cruel master urged her onward. Finally she dropped 
 beside the path. Finding that it did no good to urge her 
 further, now that she had fallen to the earth and seemed 
 unable to rise, the hard-hearted man abandoned her to her 
 fate. After they had gone some distance, Livingstone and 
 his men made some excuse to return. Their object was to 
 search for the poor girl, and to remain with her, either un- 
 til she died or until she was able to go on to some settle- 
 ment. Although they returned to the spot and searched 
 diligently, beating all about in the bushes through the 
 whole day, they could not find her. She had doubtless be- 
 come frightened at the cruel desertion, made a superhuman 
 effort to rise to her feet, succeeded, wandered off bewildered 
 into the woods, and was either lost or devoured by some 
 wild beast. This incident served to increase Livingstone’s 
 determination to accomplish the great work before him. 
 Their route led them again through a portion of the dan- 
 gerous and inhospitable country along the Kasai River. 
 Many times they were in desperate straits—death stared 
 them in the face; and before they were barely out of the 
 unfriendly region the Makololo had been well-nigh fleeced 
 of every hard-earned article they had brought from the 
 coast. An occurrence about this time showed the engineer- 
 ing ability of some of Livingstone’s men. Kawawa, one 
 of the chiefs, sent them word that they could not cross the 
 river unless they first gave him a man, an ox, a gun, or a 
 robe. In order to give more force to his words, he dis- 
 patched a body of men to guard the ferry. That night 
 -Pitsane, one of Livingstone’s principal Makololo, who dur. 
 
266 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 ing the day had seen where several canoes were hidden 
 under the overhanging bank, swam to them in the dark- 
 ness, secured one of the largest, and brought it to his com- 
 panions. The river was then crossed as noiselessly as 
 possible, the men and the merchandise in the boat, and the 
 horse, oxen, and donkeys swimming. After they had all 
 reached the opposite shore, Pitsane returned with the canoe 
 and restored it to its former place without detection. The 
 next morning, when Kawawa’s party saw Livingstone’s 
 men encamped on the other side of the river, they were 
 very angry and much mystified. At first they-could not 
 imagine how the passage of the river had been made, espe- 
 cially as the canoes remained in place; soon, however, the 
 humorous Pitsane appeared and began making the moye- 
 ments of one swimming, and pointing toward the canoes. 
 This provoked the Kawawa men, and they shouted across 
 the river: ‘“ You were ugly, bad things to take our canoes 
 without letting us know!” ‘“O no, not at all,” Pitsane re- 
 turned. ‘“AIl’s fair in love and war, and we have done you 
 no harm. We must return your compliment, however, by 
 saying you are very good, and we thank you for the loan 
 of your canoe.” The Makololo, especially Pitsane, were 
 much amused and delighted at the trick that had been 
 played upon the surly old Kawawa and his people; but the 
 conscientious Livingstone had taken eare to place some 
 beads and cloth, more than twice the amount of the ferri- 
 age, in the boat Pitsane had carried back. As Kawawa 
 and his people found the articles soon after, their mortifica- 
 tion was lessened. 
 
 Soon after leaving the Kasai, Livingstone began to suffer 
 anew from the fever. He was therefore greatly rejoiced 
 when he came in sight of his old friend Katema’s town.. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 267 
 
 Katema and all his people gave the travelers a hearty wel- 
 come. A cow was slain, and an abundance of meal and 
 honey provided. Livingstone had not forgotten Katema’s 
 request. He had brought him the long-coveted coat, and 
 many other things—among them a cloak of red baize, a 
 cotton robe, a quantity of beads, an iron spoon, and a tin 
 pannikin filled with powder. But as great as had been 
 Katema’s joy in welcoming them, still greater was Shin- 
 te’s. Nyamoana was with him, having changed the site of 
 her village nearer to Kabompo in consequence of the death 
 of her husband. One thing, however, was wanting on this 
 occasion, to lend spice and vigor to the proceedings, and 
 that was the presence of the indomitable Manenko. She 
 had intended to be present, but was deterred from coming 
 by a burn on her foot. She sent Sambanza to represent 
 her. 
 
 Here Livingstone for the first time witnessed that novel 
 proceeding calied kasendi, which is the strongest ratifica- 
 tion of the ties of friendship known to African custom. On 
 this occasion Pitsane and Sambanza were the parties inter- 
 ested. The ceremony is thus described: “The hands of the 
 parties were joined, and small incisions, sufficient to cause 
 bleeding, made in the hands, on the pits of the stomachs, 
 the right cheeks, and the foreheads. Drops of blood were 
 conveyed from the wounds of each on a stalk of grass and 
 dipped in beer—the one drinking the beer mixed with the 
 other’s blood. During the drinking of the beer members 
 of the party beat the ground with clubs, and muttered sen- 
 tences by way of ratifying the treaty. This ceremony con- 
 stitutes the parties engaged in it blood-relations, each being 
 bound to warn the other of impending evil, even if it in- 
 volves the disclosure of an intended attack on the tribe of 
 
268 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 the other by his own chief. After the ceremony they ex- 
 changed presents, Pitsane getting an abundant supply of 
 food, and Sambanza receiving Pitsane’s suit of green baize, 
 faced with red.” 
 
 Shinte insisted that Livingstone’s party should remain 
 with him several weeks. This they were glad to do, as they 
 were much worn down. It was not until the 6th of July 
 that they bade the chief good-by and started down the Lee- 
 ba, some in canoes that Shinte had furnished, and the oth- 
 ers leading the horse, oxen, and donkeys along the banks. 
 Twenty days later the Barotse portion of the Makololo were 
 at home. The scene on their entering the village is said 
 to have been indescribable. Livingstone was really glad 
 when it was all over, and they were seated in the kotla 
 ready to give an account of their travels. For months 
 they had been given up as lost, and their return was as 
 from the grave. During their entire absence not one word 
 had been heard from them; and as the time fixed for their 
 return had long since elapsed, it was no wonder that they 
 had been regarded as dead. 
 
 Pitsane was the speaker in the kotla. He described with 
 native eloquence every thing that had happened. When 
 he told of the narrow escapes they had had from death, 
 women cried aloud, and men started up with clinched fists, 
 vowing vengeance against the dastardly chiefs. Living. 
 stone at length quieted the troubled waters. At the very 
 beginning of so promising an outlook for the future com- 
 mercial intercourse between the various tribes, he did not 
 desire that seeds of animosity and revenge should be sown. 
 He drew the people gradually away from the contempla- 
 tion of these things, and entreated them to join with him in 
 returning thanks to God for his goodness in leading them 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 269 
 
 out of every danger, and to beseech him for help in bring- 
 ing to complete success the undertaking that now seemed 
 to promise so well. They were heart and soul in the work 
 with Livingstone. As savage and untutored as they were, 
 they seemed to realize with wonderful vividness just what 
 its accomplishment meant to them. When he remonstrated 
 with them for their lavish display of hospitality on this oc- 
 casion—the village having been ransacked from one end to 
 the other to make a feast for the returned travelers—and 
 expressed to them his regret at his inability, and that of his 
 men, to give them any thing in return, they quickly stopped 
 him. “ It does not matter, good father,” they declared, look- 
 ing upon him with reverence and gratitude. “ You have 
 opened a path for us, and now we shall have sleep [peace].” 
 
 It was only too true that the Makololo had returned to 
 their people almost as poor as when they left them. The 
 many things purchased with their earnings at Loanda had 
 been resigned one by one to satisfy the rapaciousness of the 
 chiefs along the route, until now only the striped clothes, 
 red caps, a few trinkets, and the fowls were left. But this 
 impoverished condition had no adverse effect upon their 
 loyal people; indeed, it seemed to make them more loyal. 
 They said to the returned Makololo: “Though you came 
 back ten times poorer than you have, yet would you have 
 gained by the journey.” 
 
 Livingstone’s men, when dressed in their striped suits and 
 red caps, presented a dashing “ appearance” to eyes unused 
 to such splendor of array. They tried to walk as they had 
 seen the soldiers at the Portuguese military barracks walk 
 when on duty, and spoke of themselves as their “ father’s 
 braves ”—meaning Livingstone. 
 
 The most joyous demonstrations took place when Lin- 
 
270 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE, 
 
 yanti was reached. Sekeletu affectionately threw himself 
 upon Livingstone’s neck, and the brave Makololo could 
 hardly loose themselves from the embraces of their families. 
 The wonderful story of their adventures was once more re- 
 lated, and again Livingstone had to play the part of an ad- 
 vocate of peace. Sekeletu was proud of his horse, and of 
 his donkeys, and of every thing that had been brought to 
 him, but prouder than all of his flashing colonel’s uniform, 
 which made his eyes dance until they seemed ready to 
 dance out of his head, Nothing would do but he must don 
 the uniform on the spot. On Sunday, when he appeared 
 in this array for the first time in public, so great was the 
 sensation he created that for a long time Livingstone could 
 not divert the attention of the people from Sekeletu to him- 
 self in order to go on with his sermon. 
 
 For many days the returned Makololo were the “ heroes 
 of the hour.” Among the first things they asserted to their 
 
 ’ 
 
 “stay-at-home brethren” was that they had seen the end 
 of the world. The next moment, however, they were con- 
 siderably posed with this query: “ Then, if you went to the 
 end of the world, you reached Ma-Robert [Mrs. Living- 
 stone]?” Considerably crest-fallen, they were obliged to ac- 
 knowledge that they had not. “ Then, rest assured,” was 
 the decisive answer, “you are mistaken. If you did not 
 see Ma-Robert, you have not been to the end of the world 
 after all, but only think you have.” 
 
 At Linyanti Livingstone found many letters and papers 
 awaiting him. From these he learned that he had long 
 since been given up for dead by the outside world. And 
 no wonder! For two years he had disappeared as com- 
 pletely as though the earth had swallowed him up. For 
 two years there had come no word, no sign to cheer the 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 271 
 
 anxious hearts that awaited tidings from him—hearts that 
 had at last, with one exception, lost all hope. Much of 
 this painful suspense would have been averted had the 
 “Forerunner” not gone down at sea with his letters and 
 dispatches. But doubtless by this time the second batch 
 had reached England, and the anxiety in regard to him 
 was at least partially allayed. Only his faithful wife, as 
 has been intimated, refused to believe him dead. She clung 
 to hope to the last, finding her daily solace and strength in 
 the beautiful and comforting words of the ninety-first 
 Psalm. Ah! surely that God who had always been her 
 husband’s refuge would keep him now “under the shadow 
 of his wings.” And he had indeed been thus kept, and de- 
 livered at last from “the snare of the fowler, and from the 
 noisome pestilence.” Livingstone’s first act on getting back 
 to Linyanti was to dispatch letters to his faithful and wait- 
 ing wife. His heart was greatly cheered to find, besides 
 the letters and papers awaiting him at Linyanti, many 
 sadly needed supplies—with them a box from Kuruman, 
 containing among other articles some clothing, medicines, 
 lemons, lemon-juice, quince jam, tea, sugar, and coffee. This 
 gift, which was Mrs. Moffat’s, was accompanied by a most 
 affectionate letter, so written that it showed plainly, in al- 
 most every line, that she had little hopes of his ever living 
 to read it. 
 
 At last the herculean enterprise of marching to the west 
 coast and back had been accomplished. It was no longer 
 a matter for doubt and speculation, but an assured fact. 
 Viewed in whatever direction one might look at it, it was 
 truly a wonderful journey. Had Livingstone succeeded in 
 performing this much with every facility at his command, 
 with every necessary means of transportation at his hand, 
 
272 “LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 with a sufficiency of provisions for man and beast secured, 
 ther would it have been a most extraordinary feat. But 
 when we recall the desperate straits to which he was put, 
 the meagerness, often complete barrenness, of all supplies, 
 the fearful odds against which he had to battle, it seems 
 truly amazing that he should ever have succeeded, even in 
 part. One of the most remarkable points about the whole 
 matter was that he had brought every one of his men back 
 with him. Not a life had been sacrificed. 
 
 But how had Livingstone himself come out of this jour- 
 ney? Very much the worse for it, so far as bodily ills 
 were concerned. He was not only worn down to mere skin 
 and bones through the terrible ravages of the malarial fe- 
 ver, but, from having to sleep so much on the damp, wet 
 ground, often in little pools of water, he had contracted 
 rheumatic fever in a most aggravated form. So severe 
 were the attacks that they had seriously affected his hear- 
 ing. Further than this, he had nearly lost the sight of one 
 eye, by having it struck by the branch of a tree as he was 
 riding through the forest. But in spirit Livingstone was 
 as brave, as cheerful, as determined as ever. Not for these 
 bodily ills—which would have given many men the excuse 
 to turn their backs forever upon what still lay before— 
 would he renounce the work he had begun, even for a time. 
 He had determinately taken his stand, he had resolutely 
 started in the path—from that time to this he had never 
 swerved either to right or to left, nor did he intend to do 
 it until God’s own hand laid him helpless by the way, and 
 placed upon his ardor the seal of eternal inactivity. 
 
 Not the least of Livingstone’s achievements on this jour- 
 ney to the sea were the many geographical discoveries he 
 had made, an account of each one of which he had found 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 273 
 
 time to transmit to the Royal Geographical Society. Nor 
 was this done in the least slipshod sort of a way—as might 
 have been excusable amidst the many difficulties under 
 which he labored—but with the utmost care and exactness. 
 Indeed, so accurate was he, so painstaking, even in the 
 midst of the most adverse surroundings, that the Society 
 was loud in its praise. The unanimous verdict regarding him 
 was that “no explorer on record had determined his path 
 with the precision he had accomplished.” As might be 
 supposed, the Society was not slow in showing its apprecia- 
 tion in a more substantial form. In May, 1855, a gold 
 medal was awarded him—the highest honor in the Society’s 
 power to bestow. This occasion is spoken of as one of 
 “reat interest.” Many distinguished speakers reviewed 
 the work of the now famous missionary and explorer. All 
 of them agreed in declaring that “the simplicity of his ar- 
 rangements gave additional wonder to the results.” The 
 account of his recent march to the sea was contrasted with 
 that of one that had just reached them of a Portuguese ex- 
 pedition Jed by a Col. Monteiro from the east coast into the 
 interior. In comparing the two, Lord Ellesmere, one of the 
 speakers, pointedly remarked: “TI advert to it to point out 
 the contrast between the two. Col. Monteiro was the 
 leader of a small army—some twenty Portuguese soldiers, 
 and a hundred and twenty Caffres. The contrast is as 
 great between such military array and the solitary grand- 
 eur of the missionary’s progress as it is between the actual 
 achievement of the two—between the rough knowledge ob- 
 tained by the Portuguese of some three hundred leagues of 
 new country, and the scientific precision with which the 
 unarmed and unassisted Englishman has left his mark on 
 
 so many important stations of regions hitherto a blank.” 
 18 
 
CHAPTER XIX, 
 
 THE DEPARTURE FOR THE EAST COAST—SEKELETU’S PROOF OF 
 HIS DEVOTION—THE GRAVE OF THE CHIEF SEKOTE—THE 
 GREAT VICTORIA FALLS—THE COUNTRY OF THE BATOKA—A 
 DEGRADED TRIBE—THE GOSPEL OF PEACE—DANGERS AND DIF- 
 FICULTIES—AT THE JUNCTION OF THE LOANGWA AND THE ZAM- 
 BESI—HOSTILITY OF THE TRIBES—A PERILOUS POSITION—THE 
 REVENGEFUL CHIEF MPENDE—IN ANSWER TO PRAYER, 
 
 LLOWING himself barely two months’ rest at Lin- 
 yanti, Livingstone made ready to depart on the yet 
 untried paths to the east coast. The journey to the west 
 coast had not been altogether as satisfactory as he had 
 hoped, and grave doubts were beginning to rise in his mind 
 as to the possibility of soon opening up in this direction the 
 route of commerce of which he had so long and so fondly 
 dreamed. As elsewhere stated, the chief obstacles in the way 
 were the many shoals and rapids in the rivers, and the hostile 
 bands of natives along the banks. Then,much money would 
 be needed—a great deal more, he feared, than he had at first 
 supposed. Who would be found to give this money? Sure- 
 ly, when he had brought them to see things as he now saw 
 them, his own countrymen would do it. But this might 
 take a long while, and the need of immediate action was 
 pressing. It is true that the success of his undertaking 
 had aroused in many of the natives a desire to establish 
 trading relations with the distant tribes. Even now a few 
 of the more intrepid of Sekeletu’s men were engaged in or- 
 
 ganizing a party to proceed to the Portuguese settlements 
 (274) 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 275 
 
 with a supply of ivory. In the interim Livingstone de- 
 termined on trying the east coast. Without doubt the 
 waters of the Zambesi would reveal a more promising out- 
 look. He had no trouble whatever in procuring volunteers 
 to go with him on this second expedition. In fact, many 
 more offered than it would have been either safe or wise to 
 accept. They all said they were anxious to go,so that they 
 eould return and relate “strange, fine things,” as did their 
 brethren who had been to the west coast. Forty-five or 
 fifty of the more promising of those who presented them- 
 selves were selected. They left Linyanti on the third day 
 of November, 1855. Sekeletu, with two hundred additional 
 men as an escort, accompanied them as far as Kalai on the 
 Leambye River. The party were in the best of spirits, be. 
 ing well provided for through the forethought and gener- 
 osity of Sekeletu. 
 
 On this east passage there were many routes opened up 
 to him, but Livingstone, for reasons already made known, 
 chose the one along the Zambesi; although he well knew, 
 from information he had received, that it was the most dif- 
 ficult and dangerous of all. Some of the most hostile tribes 
 in Central Africa lived in the vicinity of this river. 
 
 They had not traveled far when a violent storm of thun- 
 der, lightning, and rain overtook them. And now occurred 
 an incident which proved, far more than many high-sound- 
 ing words could have done, the genuineness of Sekeletu’s 
 devotion to Livingstone. In some way Livingstone and 
 Sekeletu became separated from the rest of the men. They 
 were soon wet to the skin, and having no extra clothing they 
 were in a lamentable plight. But luckily Sekeletu had his 
 blanket. When night came on they were still lost from 
 the party. Knowing not what else to do, and being 
 
276 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 overcome with fatigue, they both lay down on Sekeletu’s 
 blanket at the foot of a tree. When Livingstone awoke in 
 the night he was lying on one half of the blanket and coy- 
 ered with the other half, while Sekeletu was taking the 
 rain upon the wet ground. This circumstance affected 
 Livingstone deeply. He says in allusion to Sekeletu’s no- 
 ble conduct: “I was much touched by this act of genuine 
 kindness. If such men must perish by the advance of civ- 
 ilization, as certain races of animals do before others, it is a 
 pity. God grant that, ere this time comes, they may re- 
 ceive that gospel that is a solace for the soul in death.” 
 
 On the island of Kalai, on which is situated the town of 
 Kalai, where Sekeletu and his men afterward took leave of 
 the expedition, they found the grave of Sekote, a, Batoka 
 chief who had been conquered by Sebituane. He had re- 
 tired to this island, where he had died. The grave was in 
 a remote part of the island. It was covered over with hu- 
 man skulls and those of various animals, as was the custom 
 of decorating the graves of chiefs in that country. At the 
 head of the grave were heaped into a mound seyenty large 
 elephant tusks, surmounted by the head of a hippopotamus. 
 Around him were buried many of his relatives, including 
 one or two of his wives. Their graves were ornamented 
 with tusks, and with the heads of crocodiles and hippopota- 
 mi, but with no human skulls, this being alone a chief’s 
 distinction. 
 
 On the 13th day of November Livingstone, with Seke- 
 letu and a picked band of his men, entered canoes to visit 
 the great falls on the Zambesi. He thought this must in- 
 deed be a sight worth seeing, as the natives themselves were 
 so impressed with it. Even Sebituane, in the short while 
 they had been together, had mentioned the falls. One of 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 277 
 
 his questions had been: “ Have you smoke that sounds ip 
 your country?’’ On Livingstone’s answering in the nega: 
 tive, he continued: “ Well, then, when you go to my town, 
 Linyanti, and sail some miles down the river, until you come 
 to another river, and then go up that for a distance, you 
 will there come to the great puffs of smoke that sound so 
 loudly they will fill all your ears with a rush and roar, 
 such as you never heard before.” Of course Livingstone 
 knew that he must mean a cataract of some kind; and ever 
 since then his curiosity had been aroused in regard to it. 
 Now, for the last five or six days—in fact, ever since he 
 had been in the country of the Batoka—he had continual- 
 ly heard of the smoke that sounds. He afterward learned 
 that the natives called this wonderful cataract the falls of 
 Mosioatunya—the literal meaning of the word in their lan- 
 guage being, “smoke does sound there.” Before they had 
 gone far in the canoes, the steadily increasing flow of the 
 tide indicated to Livingstone that they were approaching 
 the great falls. Awhile later they came to a place where 
 the sweep of the waters onward was so rapid that the canoes 
 had to be taken out and carried along the banks. When 
 six miles away, Livingstone saw the tops of the mountains 
 of spray that whirled off their spirit-like forms in whatever 
 direction the wind was blowing. He learned that on a 
 clear day these columns were visible to the naked eye for 
 the distance of twenty miles or more. The rush and roar 
 of the waters can also be heard for fully two miles away, 
 while long before the traveler by land reaches this power- 
 ful cataract he is made aware of its proximity by the trem- 
 bling of the ground beneath his feet—this, of course, beng 
 caused by the immense volume and force of the fallirg 
 waters. 
 
VICTORIA FALLS, ZAMBESI RIVER, 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 279 
 
 Livingstone was awed beyond the power of words to de- 
 scribe as he came within full view of this magnificent freak 
 of nature. Even its minor points were far beyond the wild- 
 est play of his imagination. The men launched the canoes 
 again some distance above the falls, and gradually and 
 carefully made their way to an island in the center of the 
 stream, the outward edge of which hung directly over the 
 chasm of the falls. Livingstone found that this island di- 
 vided one portion of the cataract from the other. Creep- 
 ing to the verge, with feelings of the deepest awe, he peered 
 down into the fearful abyss into which the waters so madly 
 plunged. The stream at this point seemed to be some two 
 thousand yards wide, and leaped downward over the sheer, 
 precipitous face of a wall of rock to a depth which it was 
 impossible to properly estimate at first sight. Later Liy- 
 ingstone learned, through actual measurement, that the 
 stream was something over eighteen hundred yards in 
 width, and that the waters plunged a distance of full three 
 hundred feet. What rendered this phenomenon all the 
 more awe-inspiring was that the fissure into which the 
 waters leaped was not more than eighty or eighty-five feet 
 in width. Thus the force of the waters, being compressed 
 into so small a compass, in their mighty reaction threw up- 
 ward the vast columns of spray to the height of from two 
 hundred and fifty feet to three hundred feet. Ata distance 
 this unbroken mass of seething water presents the appear- 
 ance of clouds of drifted snow. In a “ prolongation of the 
 rocky chasm ” at the eastern end of the falls “ the tormented 
 river” found an outlet. This prolongation continued for 
 thirty miles or more, and as it was very zigzag in its course, 
 the water was constantly thrown from left to right, and 
 from right back to left again. In consequence of this, it 
 
280 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 went roaring and boiling on its way, in many places send- 
 ing up columns of spray to a considerable height. The 
 Makololo told Livingstone that at a point farther east the 
 fissure was deeper than it was at the falls. At this place 
 the walls sloped so gradually that any one accustomed to 
 it might go down in asitting posture. A knowledge of this 
 fact had once been taken advantage of by a party of the 
 Batoka when pursued by the Makololo. But they had not 
 been cautious enough: in attempting to go too fast, they 
 soon lost control of themselves, and were hurled to pieces ~ 
 on the rocks below. 
 
 The longer Livingstone gazed upon this mighty specta- 
 cle of nature the more vividly he realized the majesty and 
 grandeur of God, and the utter insignificance of his creat- 
 ure, man. All about the falls the scene was remarkably 
 picturesque and beautiful. Along the river-banks grew 
 trees of magnificent foliage—among them the baobab, that 
 mightiest monarch of the African forests; the palmyra, with 
 its long, graceful, and feathery leaves; the mohonou, in 
 shape and foliage much like the lovely cedar of Lebanon; 
 and the tall, willowy motsouri. Here and there the broad 
 surface of the river was dotted with miniature islands, each 
 covered with a luxuriant mass of vegetation, amidst which 
 were many glowing blossoms spangling it like stars. As 
 the sunlight fell full upon the cloud-like columns of leap- 
 ing spray it crowned them with all the brilliant colors of 
 the rainbow. But the grandest sight was at night, when 
 the falls ‘shone with a yellow, sulphurous haze, shadowed 
 by clouds of pitchy blackness, as if belehed from the crater 
 of a burning mountain.” It is no wonder that the natives 
 looked upon this cataract in fear and awe; no wonder that 
 its grandeur and beauty so impressed them that they des- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 28) 
 
 - ignated it as the abode of their god, Barimo. That was the 
 highest tribute they could have paid to its “ power and 
 mystery.” 
 
 Livingstone at once communicated to the Royal Geo- 
 graphical Society a knowledge of the discovery of these 
 falls, and forwarded a description of them—at the same 
 time conveying the intelligence that he had named them 
 the “ Victoria Falls,” in honor of hissovereign. This news 
 ereated a great stir throughout the world. The name of 
 Livingstone is forever associated with the discovery, and it is 
 considered by many as his most distinguished achievement. 
 
 On the 20th of November Livingstone bade adieu to Se- 
 keletu, and with his attendants moved northward through 
 the country of the Batoka. This tribe was very singular 
 in some things. It was a rigid custom that at the adoles- 
 cent period every male and female must knock out the front 
 teeth. This caused the lower teeth to grow long and bent. 
 The upper lip sunk in, while the under, borne outward by 
 the growing teeth, presented a most unsightly appearance. 
 When they were asked their reason for this hideous custom 
 they replied that they observed it to make themselves look 
 more like the ox. Those who retained both rows of teeth, 
 they said, resembled the zebra; and they had no regard for 
 the zebra, while, like many of the African tribes. they had 
 the highest veneration for the ox. 
 
 In going into the Batoka country Livingstone left the 
 Zambesi for awhile, but after a considerable detour he re- 
 turned to it several weeks later at a point farther eastward. 
 The open plains over which he was now passing, covered 
 with short, luxuriant grass, made traveling more of a pleas- 
 ure than a hardship, and the little band pushed onward in 
 the best of spirits. It was nothing like going to the west 
 
282 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 coast, where there had been great overflowed plains, tan- 
 gled vines, and fallen trees to obstruct their way. To add 
 to the pleasure, the district abounded in vegetable and an- 
 imal lite. There were all sorts of delicious fruits, which 
 hung from the trees in tempting nearness, while immense 
 herds of animals were constantly crossing their path. It 
 was no trouble to bring down, at almost any time, a fine 
 buffalo, an antelope, or an eland. Flesh-meat was there- 
 fore in great abundance, and the Makololo’s heart kept as 
 merry as a song. They passed by the ruins of many vil- 
 lages, the extent of which showed the great populousness of 
 the Batoka tribes before so many of them had been exter- 
 minated in the long and fierce war with Sebituane. At the 
 river Dila they came to a spot where Sebituane had lived 
 for awhile after his conquest of the country. It was a most 
 charming place, and the Makololo had never ceased to re- 
 gret their departure from it. It was not only beautiful and 
 fertile, but an exceedingly healthy region. Sekeletu had 
 given Livingstone’s head man, Sekwebu, instructions to 
 point it out to Livingstone, as he thought perhaps the latter 
 might find in it the long locked-for spot at which to plant 
 the mission station. Livingstone was entirely pleased with 
 it, but he could not as yet decide upon any thing definite— 
 at least not until that other great dream of his life had as- 
 sumed a more realistic shape. Livingstone particularly 
 admired the fine, large trees that grew everywhere about 
 this favored spot, yielding fruits in rich abundance. Many 
 of them were real monsters of the forest. He noticed a fig- 
 tree that measured fifty feet in circumference. The heart 
 had been burned out, and some one had recently used it as 
 a lodging-place, for within it were the remains of a bed 
 and a fire. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 233 
 
 Beyond the Dila the expedition met with a tribe that 
 were inclined to be very hostile, especially when they rec- 
 ognized Livingstone’s men as Makololos. They had not 
 forgotten the old enmity, nor forgiven the old injuries, and 
 though overcome were not conquered. After their defeat 
 by Sebituane they had retreated to this spot, where they 
 had ever since remained sullen and vindictive. When the 
 explorers came in sight these people brandished their bat- 
 tle-axes and prepared to rush upon them. Nothing but 
 Livingstone’s cool courage saved their lives. With the ex- 
 ception of this instance they found the Batoka quite friend- 
 ly, many of them coming long distances to bring presents 
 of fruit and maize. 
 
 At the village of Monze Livingstone was much disgusted 
 at the manner of salutation accorded him by some of the 
 inhabitants. This was by throwing themselves upon the 
 ground and rolling from side to side in the dirt, at the same 
 time slapping their thighs vigorously. All the while they 
 were grinning most horribly, and between the grins shout- 
 ing out the oral welcome, “ Kina Bomba!” As soon as 
 they began these antics Livingstone cried out to them, 
 “Stop! I don’t want that!” But misunderstanding him, 
 and misconstruing his words to mean approbation, they 
 tumbled more wildly, slapped themselves more vigor- 
 ously, and grinned more horribly than ever. In complete 
 disgust Livingstone turned his back upon them, and waited 
 for them to tire themselves out and to get up from the 
 ground. He speaks of this tribe as the most thoroughly 
 degraded of any he had met in Africa. They must indeed 
 have been low in the scale of degradation to excite the loath- 
 ing of one so tender and warm-hearted. And yet they were 
 kind and peaceable creatures, and welcomed the travelers 
 
284 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 with the best their humble village would afford. Monze’s 
 people wore their hair all gathered up into a mass on top 
 of their heads and woven into a cone, sometimes rising a 
 foot or more in height. 
 
 On the 18th of December the explorers reached the Ka- 
 fue, which was the largest tributary of the Zambesi they 
 had yet seen. Here they found the village of a chief by 
 the name of Semalembue. He treated them handsomely, 
 giving them thirty baskets of meal and maize, and an 
 abundance of ground-nuts. Livingstone remained among 
 this people long enough to preach once or twice. The chief, 
 as well as many of the people, seemed greatly impressed 
 with Livingstone’s words, especially the gospel of peace he 
 proclaimed. Semalembue said to him: “Now, if what you 
 tell us be indeed true, then can I both eat and sleep in peace 
 after this, in the hope of the coming of that day when all 
 shall be peace.” 
 
 While at this place Sekwebu pointed out the direction of 
 a wonderful fountain; some two and a half days’ journey 
 distant, which emitted steam at one point and boiling water 
 at another. ‘“ There,” said he to Livingstone, “ had Sebitu- 
 ane been alive he would have brought you to live with him. 
 You would be on the bank of the river; and by taking ca- 
 noes you would at once sail down to the Zambesi, and visit 
 the white people at the sea.” 
 
 As long as the travelers were in the domains of the tribes 
 that owed allegiance to Sekeletu, they were most hospitably 
 entertained—with the one exception noted. But they were 
 now fast approaching the confines of this territory, and in 
 consequence grave doubts and fears possessed them. For the 
 last few weeks they had gradually veered around from their 
 long detour, and were now again coming back toward the 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 285 
 
 Zambesi—although, as the record of their journey states, 
 they had not at any time “departed very far from its chan- 
 nel.” Within a “few days of the New-year’s-day of 1856” 
 they became aware that they must be very close to this 
 “king of African rivers.” Over their heads flew immense 
 flocks of wild fowls—geese, ducks, herons, spoon-bills, and 
 many others—and by these signs they knew that the feed- 
 ing-grounds of the feathered tribes could not be far away. 
 They now feasted royally, for Livingstone’s gun brought 
 down a number of the fattest of the geese and ducks. A 
 day later they came to the banks of the noble river at a 
 place where it was much broader and more rapid than they 
 had yet seen it, except at the falls. 
 
 At first the tribes along the course of the river from the 
 point at which they had struck it were inclined to be very 
 friendly. They were great agriculturists, and at almost 
 every village men, women, and children were seen in the 
 gardens, and all working industriously. As the soil was 
 exceedingly fertile, the crops were luxuriant; but, what 
 was better still, they seemed well tended, and not left to 
 grow up in weeds, as in many other places. These people 
 were known as the Maran, and some of their customs were 
 quite peculiar. Among other things, they pierced the up: 
 per lip and inserted into the opening a shell. The head 
 man of the principal village presented Livingstone with a 
 basin of rice, the first he had seen in a long time. 
 
 The farther eastward they proceeded the more hostile 
 grew the attitude of the various tribes. At one place they 
 tried to spear one of the Makololo who had gone to bring 
 water, and would doubtless have succeeded in doing so but 
 for Livingstone’s timely appearance. The enraged savages 
 now rushed upon the brave missionary. He was at once 
 
286 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 surrounded, while one of the band in a “sort of wild mania” 
 brandished his battle-ax threateningly about Livingstone’s 
 head. All now seemed at an end for the intrepid man. 
 But not so. Calmly facing his assailant, he looked him 
 unflinchingly in the eye, and commanded him to put up 
 his ax. Before that piercing glance the man slunk away 
 as if caught in some petty act. The Makololo coming up 
 at this moment, and seeing the danger of their fondly loved 
 father, made ready to attack the men who surrounded him. 
 But at a signal from him whom they had never yet dis- 
 obeyed they restrained themselvyes—though it was plain to 
 see that they longed to hurl themselves upon the band, and 
 that each brave man there was willing to sacrifice his own 
 life in an attempt to rescue him who had so often stood in 
 the jaws of danger for them. Had they closed with the 
 savages, as they started to do in the heat of the moment, 
 all would indeed have been over—not only for Livingstone, 
 but for themselves, since the hostile band outnumbered 
 them five to one. As usual Livingstone’s masterly courage 
 and cool management saved both himself and hismen. An 
 hour later they parted from the people in real friendliness. 
 
 Much to Livingstone’s alarm he now found his ammuni- 
 tion—that is, the balls and shot—running low. If it should 
 come to a battle with the natives, it would certainly be bad 
 for him and his men, unless they could in some way add to 
 their store. At length he resorted to the expedient of melt- 
 ing into balls two pewter plates and a piece of zine he 
 chanced to have. In addition he exhausted all the hand- 
 kerchiefs of the party in buying spears for his men. AI- 
 though danger constantly threatened them, and death often 
 seemed but a question of a moment, their real troubles did 
 not begin until they had reached the confluence of the Lo- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 287 
 
 angwa and the Zambesi. Here they seemed to have come 
 to a climax, their lives more than once hanging by the slen- 
 derest thread, which the least unguarded movement of theirs, 
 to right or to left, would have snapped in twain in a twink- 
 ling. It was a miracle that they should have escaped—a 
 still greater source of wonder that not one of them fell by 
 the hands of savage foe, and that not once was a battle nec- 
 essary. What other man than Livingstone could have car- 
 ried them through with such a record? On reaching thig 
 point Livingstone seems to have realized to its fullest ex- 
 tent the danger that menaced them; but well he knew 
 where to go for the strength and help needful to face it. 
 We find the entry below in his journal, under the date of 
 January 14th, 1856. Could that God to whom he poured 
 forth the whole burden of his heart, of whom he so fervent- 
 ly entreated succor in this hour of need, refuse to hear or 
 to grant so pure and earnest a prayer? No wonder this 
 trusting and intrepid soldier of the cross passed through 
 every danger unscathed: 
 
 “14th January, 1856.—At the confluence of the Loan- 
 gwa and Zambesi. Thank God for his great mercies so 
 far! How soon I may be called to stand before him, my 
 righteous Judge, I know not. All hearts are in his hands, 
 and merciful and gracious is the Lord our God. O Jesus, 
 grant me resignation to thy will, and entire reliance on thy 
 powerful hand. On thy word alone I lean. But wilt thou 
 permit me to plead for Africa? The cause is thine. What. 
 an impulse will be given to the idea that Africa is not open 
 if I perish now! See, O Lord, how the heathen rise up 
 against me, as they did to thy Son! I commit my way unto 
 thee. I trust also in thee that thou wilt direct my steps, 
 Thou givest wisdom liberally to all who ask thee—give if 
 
288 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 to me, my Father. My family is thine. They are in the 
 best hands. O be gracious, and all our sins do thou blot 
 
 out. 
 A guilty, weak, and helpless worm, 
 
 On thy kind arms I fall. 
 
 Leave me not, forsake me not. I cast myself and all my 
 cares down at thy feet. Thou knowest all I need, for time 
 and for eternity.” 
 
 They were now encamped near the village of a chief by 
 the name of Mburuma, and momentarily expecting an at- 
 tack. For two or three days Livingstone had been trying 
 to get across the river, but the hostile natives not only re- 
 fused to lend him the necessary canoes, but also to allow 
 him to proceed at all. Livingstone soon learned that the 
 cause of their fierce hostility lay in the fact that at one 
 time, ot many years before, this section had been invaded 
 by 2» Italian slave-dealer, who had at first professed great 
 friendship for them—even marrying the daughter of their 
 chief—but who had at last repaid their trust by carrying 
 off a number of the people into captivity. It is true that 
 they had pursued, overtaken, and slain him, and thus had 
 their revenge; but ever since they had vowed deadly venge- 
 ance against every one with a white skin. 
 
 The next morning early, January 15th, at a little after 
 sunrise, the natives began to collect about the camp. All 
 of them were fully armed, and it was evident that their in- 
 tentions were any thing but friendly. Livingstone at once 
 addressel them. He frankly told them the object of his 
 visit to their country, and that he was then on his way to 
 the sea on an errand that would in the end prove of the 
 greatest benefit to them. He next stated the object of his 
 errand, They seemed to be favorably impressed by his 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 289 
 
 words, and began to assume a less hostile attitude, though 
 many of them from time to time cast upon him and his 
 men most threatening and vindictive looks. 
 
 Livingstone was still extremely anxious to cross to the 
 other side of the river, but he did not know how to man- 
 age it without precipitating an attack. He came fearlessly 
 to the point at last, and asked the natives for the loan of 
 their canoes, at the same time displaying to their view some 
 beads and copper ornaments. He again opened a conver- 
 sation with them. He assured them that he had not come 
 to make slaves of any of their people, but that his mission 
 was directly opposed to all such horrible practices. He 
 proposed to them that, in proof of his intention to carry 
 none but his own people out of the country, the band of 
 natives should stay and see them cross the river. Whether 
 it was Livingstone’s frank manner, or the boldness of his 
 proposition, or the sight of the beads and ornaments, that 
 had the desired effect, it was hard to tell. Perhaps it was 
 all three. After considerable parleying, the majority sig- 
 nified their willingness to receive the trinkets and to allow 
 the strangers passage of the river. They then sent two 
 men after the canoes. While they were gone, and his own 
 men getting ready to embark, Livingstone amused the sav- 
 ages by showing them his watch, pocket-compass, and burn-- 
 ing-glass. He was not so sure of these people yet, and did 
 not know at what moment they might get him and his men 
 into a trap, and then make an attack. So he stood with 
 those searching eyes of his fixed upon them to the !ast, and 
 back to back with his men while they were entering the 
 canoes. Not until the last one was in did he take his place. 
 Even then he kept his eye upon the savages along the bank. 
 As the canoes shot out into the stream Livingstone lifted 
 
 19 
 
290 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 his hat, thanked the people for their kindness, wished them 
 peace, and then bade them adieu. They seemed charmed 
 with his manners, and stood staring after him in immoya- 
 ble fascination until the boats were safely over, which was 
 doubtless the very thing Livingstone wished them to do. 
 
 After crossing the river and proceeding some distance, 
 Livingstone was surprised to come upon the ruins of a vil- 
 lage where Europeans, doubtless Portuguese, had once lived. 
 The houses, many of which had not entirely fallen into 
 ruins, were built of wood and stone, and though simply 
 constructed were yet novel objects for this part of the coun- 
 try. Among the ruins they found the remains of a stone 
 church and a broken bell. The bell had the letters I. H. 
 S. and a cross engraved upon it. , 
 
 Nine days later, on January 23d, they were again stopped 
 by the hostile demonstrations of the people of a chief by the 
 name of Mpende. This chief, having been badly treated by a 
 party of Portuguese traders, had vowed that no white man 
 should ever again cross his country. He was even at this 
 time waging a determined war with the Portuguese along 
 his frontier. The travelers were now in great straits. 
 Their provisions had entirely given out, and several of the 
 oxen, which farther back had been bitten by the deadly 
 tsetse fly, were either dead or in a dying condition. Be- 
 sides, they were in the territory of one of the most blood- 
 thirsty of all the Zambesi chiefs. But they bravely faced 
 the situation, putting their trust in that God who had never 
 turned a deaf ear to their cries for aid. As they approached 
 Mpende’s village, Livingstone—although his mind was 
 weighed down by fears and anxieties—could not help en- 
 joying the extreme beauty of the scene. The village stood 
 in the midst of a green valley, surrounded on all sides by 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 291 
 
 forests of stately trees, some spangled with blossoms and 
 others gemmed with fruits. In the background rose a 
 lofty, conical-shaped hill, about the summit of which the 
 fleecy clouds hung like snow-white curtains. The expedi- 
 tion marched bravely up toward these wooded heights, and 
 near the bank of a little stream that sung its happy way 
 through the smiling valley pitched their tent. They had 
 no sooner done so than a crowd of the natives came rushing 
 out to them, making all manner of hostile demonstrations. 
 Livingstone and his men were in a sad plight. Their 
 clothes were worn into rags, and they had not a pound of 
 provisions of any kind. Most distressing yet, they had not 
 tasted food for nearly three days—their only means of sub- 
 sistence being a few roots they had obtained in the forest. 
 One thing that led them to face the dangers of Mpende’s 
 village, instead of trying to skirt around it, was that they 
 hoped through some means to procure food. But with all 
 his diplomatic skill, Livingstone failed to make their needs 
 known—or, if he did, there was no promising response from 
 the people, who still circled about the new-comers, uttering 
 horrid cries and brandishing strange-looking weapons. 
 They ceased after awhile, and withdrew to the village evi- 
 dently to prepare for an attack. In the meantime, the 
 pangs of hunger were growing unbearable. Aware that 
 his men could not fight in this condition, Livingstone was 
 reduced to the necessity of slaughtering one of the oxen 
 that had not shown the worst effects of the tsetse bites. The 
 men were much cheered by their hearty meal. As they sat 
 around the camp-fire, on the alert for an attack at any 
 moment, they said to Livingstone: “ You have seen us fight 
 elephants, good father, and thought us very brave, but you 
 do not know yet what we can do with men. Just wait, and 
 
292 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 see, and have no fears.’”’” Livingstone replied that he hoped 
 that they might all get away without any fight; that he was 
 averse to shedding men’s blood, even from necessity. That 
 night he prayed with all the fervor of his trusting heart: 
 “To thee, O God, we look. And O thou who wast the 
 Man of sorrows for the sake of poor vile sinners, and didst 
 not disdain the thief’s petition, remember me and thy cause 
 in Africa! Soul and body, my family, and thy cause, I 
 commit all to thee. Hear, Lord, for Jesus’ sake!” 
 
 The next morning at sunrise a body of Mpende’s people 
 appeared again. ‘They came nearer the encampment this 
 time, uttering the same horrid cries, and brandishing some 
 red substance instead of the strange-looking weapons. They 
 finally lighted a fire, threw a lot of charms into it, and 
 then departed, giving vent to a series of cries and screams 
 more hideous than ever. This they probably did in the be- 
 lief that it would not only frighten their enemies, but render 
 them powerless to resist an attack. Livingstone wondered 
 why they made no more active signs of battle, but afterward 
 learned that they were awaiting the return of their chief, 
 who was some distance away engaged in warfare with his 
 deadly enemies, the Portuguese. s 
 
 Livingstone was now undecided whether to go on and 
 risk cutting his way through this warlike tribe, or to stay 
 
 ‘and await events. When he remembered that he was at 
 their mercy about getting over the river, he decided to stay 
 where he was until the chief’s return, although it might be 
 the most dangerous thing he could do. Ina few days the 
 chief returned. He at once dispatched messengers to Liv- 
 ingstone, asking him his object in coming into his country. 
 Livingstone sent a politely worded request for a personal 
 interview. This Mpende very haughtily refused to grant. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 293 
 
 Later he dispatched in his place his head man and another 
 one of his chief men. Livingstone found them very sensi- 
 ble old men, though they plainly shared Mpende’s hatred 
 of the whites. As they approached they asked Livingstone 
 the question: “ Who are you?” “Iam a Lekoa, an En- 
 glishman,” he replied. They shook their heads, as if great- 
 ly mystified, while one of them said: “We do not know 
 that tribe. Is it a very good tribe?” “It is a very good 
 tribe indeed,” returned Livingstone proudly. “ Well, we 
 are glad to hear that. We thought you of the Mozunga 
 [Portuguese], with whom we have been fighting. Our chief 
 hates the Mozunga, and so do we. We did not know there 
 were any other whites but them.” “TI will prove to you 
 that I am whiter than they, and therefore not of their 
 tribe,” said Livingstone, uncovering his bosom and arms. 
 “Did you ever see skin so white as that?” “ No, we never 
 did.” “Nor hair like this?” “Truly we have not. The 
 Mozunga, though they are white, have neither that hair 
 nor that skin. O now we have it! You are of that tribe 
 of whom we have sometimes heard but never yet seen—the 
 tribe that live over the big water, and who are said to love 
 the black man.” “I am of that tribe,” returned Living- 
 stone; “and if you will let me I will prove to you that I 
 mean you and your people only good, and that I am bound 
 now on a journey in your interest.” 
 
 The two men went back to their chief, filled with won- 
 der and delight at what they had seen and heard. Mpende 
 was greatly impressed, and after a long consultation with 
 his councilors was induced to believe Livingstone’s story, 
 and to permit him to go on undisturbed; and not only this, 
 but to agree to furnish the party with canoes in which to 
 cross the river. 
 
294 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 “ To thee, O God, we look!” had been the burden of that 
 humble, fervent, impassioned prayer, and how graciously 
 had it been heard and answered! Well and fittingly has 
 one of the biographers of this truly great man remarked: 
 “Tn the entire records of Christian heroism there are few 
 more remarkable occasions of the triumph of the spirit of 
 holy trust than the one here recorded.” 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 GRADUALLY INCREASING SIGNS OF CIVILIZATION —SAND-FILLEN 
 RIVERS—AT MONINA’S VILLAGE—DEATH OF POOR MONAHIN— 
 WORN DOWN WITH FATIGUE—A CIVILIZED BREAKFAST—AT 
 TETE—GENEROSITY AND HOSPITALITY OF MAJOR SICARD—ILL- 
 NESS—ARRIVAL AT KILIMANE—GREETED WITH SAD INTELLI- 
 GENCE—INSANITY AND DEATH OF SEKWEBU—THE DEPARTURE 
 FOR HOME—ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND—ENTHUSIASTIC RECEPTION 
 —LIVINGSTONE’S EXTREME MODESTY—THE QUIET SOJOURN AT 
 NEWSTEAD ABBEY—LITERARY LABORS. 
 
 ARLY in February, Livingstone and his followers, 
 making their way down the Zambesi, under many 
 difficulties and dangers, began to observe increasing signs 
 of civilization. Meeting a party of traders, Livingstone 
 bartered two elephant tusks for some calico marked “ Law- 
 rence Mills, Lowell, Mass.” His men had been reduced to 
 a state of complete nudity, and he was now enabled to make 
 them more presentable. The progress of the expedition 
 was both difficult and slow, owing to the many sand-filled 
 streams they had to ford. The sand had been washed 
 down into these streams by the heavy rains, and formed 
 into great beds. Underneath these, however, there was a 
 firm stratum of clay. Livingstone says that often during 
 the dry season the water would all disappear, when these 
 vast sand deposits would remain like miniature mountain- 
 heaps glittering in the sun’s rays. But, strange to say, if 
 one would take the trouble to dig a few feet beneath them 
 he would there find tiny streams of water “ percolating over 
 (295) 
 
296 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 the clayey bottom.” This, Livingstone says, “is the phe- 
 nomenon which is dignified by the name of ‘ rivers flowing 
 under-ground.’” He gives this account of his difficulties 
 in trying to ford one of these rivers, the Zingesi: “I felt 
 thousands of particles of coarse sand striking my legs, and 
 the slight disturbance of our footsteps caused deep holes to 
 be made in the bed. The water dug out the sand beneath 
 our feet in a second or two, and we were all sinking by that 
 means so deep that we were glad to relinquish the attempt 
 to ford it before we got half way over. The man who pre- 
 ceded me was only thigh-deep, but the disturbance caused 
 by his feet made it breast-deep for me. The shower of par- 
 ticles and gravel which struck against my legs gave me the 
 idea that the amount of matter removed by every freshet 
 must be very great.” 
 
 At the village of a chief by the name of Monina the peo- 
 ple were much displeased because Livingstone had not 
 brought them a great many presents. He was utterly 
 unable to give them even a handful of beads or a yard of 
 cloth, as his store was thoroughly exhausted. At first they 
 were disposed to act very ugly about it, as they thought he 
 was “putting on.” <A great war-dance was gotten up, in 
 order to frighten the travelers into giving presents. “They 
 
 ? 
 
 beat their drums furiously,” says Livingstone, “and occa- 
 sionally fired a gun. As this sort of dance is never gotten 
 up unless there is an intention to attack, my men expected 
 an assault. We sat and looked at them for some time, and 
 then, as it became dark, we lay down, all réady to give them 
 a warm reception. But an hour or two after dark, the 
 dance ceased, and as we saw no one approaching us, we 
 went to sleep.” 
 
 At this place Livingstone had the misfortune to lose one 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 297 
 
 of his men, the second he had lost since entering upor. this 
 journey—the first having died of fever and been buried by 
 the way. This last was one of his chief men, and the cir- 
 cumstances of his death were alike sad and peculiar. Dur- 
 ing the night, just after the din of the horrid war-dance had 
 ceased, Monahin, who had been complaining of his head for 
 several days, was seen to get up and look toward the vil- 
 lage. He did not seem to be more than half awake. “ Do 
 you not hear what those people are saying?” he asked hur- 
 riedly of the man who was sleeping next to him, and who 
 had been awakened by his movements. “Go and listen.” 
 He then walked off in an opposite direction, and was never 
 seen again, although diligent search was made for him for 
 three days. It is probable that a sudden fit of insanity 
 seized the poor fellow, during which he walked off into the 
 woods, and was devoured by lions, as that region was full 
 of them. Monahin’s death grieved Livingstone deeply, 
 and he could scarcely leave the place, although further 
 search seemed useless. 
 
 Livingstone here describes some of the customs and _pe- 
 culiarities of the tribes along the Zambesi: “At the village 
 of Nyakoba the person appointed to be our guide came and 
 bargained that his services should be rewarded by a hoe. 
 I had no objection to give it, and showed him the article. 
 He was delighted with it, and went off to show it to his wife. 
 He soon afterward returned, and said that though he was 
 perfectly willing to go his wife would not let him. I said, 
 ‘Then bring back the hoe;’ but he replied, ‘I want it.’ 
 ‘Well, go with us, and you shall have it.’ ‘ But my wife 
 won’t let me.’ I remarked to my men, ‘ Did you ever hear 
 such a fool?’ They answered: ‘O that is the custom of 
 these parts; the wives are the masters.’ When a young 
 
298 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 man takes a liking for a girl of another village, and the 
 parents have no objection to the match, he is obliged to 
 come and live at their village. He has to perform certain 
 services for the mother-in-law, such as keeping her well 
 supplied with fire-wood; and when he comes into her pres- 
 ence he is obliged to sit with his knees in a bent position, 
 as putting out his feet toward the old lady would give her 
 great offense. If he becomes tired of living in this state of 
 vassalage, and wishes to return to his own family, he is obliged 
 to leave all his children behind; they belong to the wife.” 
 
 On the evening of March 2d Livingstone found himself 
 within eight miles of the Portuguese settlement of Tete. But 
 he was so fatigued, so utterly worn down by the trying ex- 
 periences of the last days of his journey, that he could not 
 proceed a mile farther. Indeed, he had at this point liter- 
 ally dropped into the arms of his men, and there the camp 
 for the night had to be made, even though it was in-a most 
 inconvenient and uninviting spot. He, however, sent for- 
 ward to the commandant of the post some recommendatory 
 letters he had received while at Loanda. These letters 
 were altogether unnecessary, as news of his coming had 
 reached the east coast months before. Besides, the whole 
 civilized world had by this time heard of the great mission- 
 ary and his almost phenomenal work in the heart of Africa. 
 Further than this, the Portuguese authorities along the 
 route had all been notified of Livingstone’s proposed march 
 to the east coast through a no less distinguished source than 
 official dispatches from England. 
 
 It is no wonder, then, that the commandant at Tete, Ma- 
 jor Sicard, should have been much exercised over the re- 
 ceipt of the letter by the hand of Livingstone’s special mes- 
 senger, together with the information that the now famous 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 299 
 
 Dr. Livingstone was within two hours’ journey of his post 
 and awaiting his courtesy. Preparations were at once en- 
 tered upon for a reception befitting so distinguished a per- 
 sonage, while steps were taken to send immediate relief 
 to the courageous explorer who had been reduced to such 
 desperate straits during the last few days. As early as two 
 o'clock the next morning two officers and a company of 
 soldiers, detailed by Major Sicard, appeared at the camp 
 with a supply of provisions. As Livingstone and his men 
 had been for many days past subsisting entirely upon roots 
 and honey, we may easily imagine the joy with which the 
 half-starved men once more partook of a civilized meal. 
 Livingstone says of it: “The pleasure experienced in par- 
 taking of that breakfast was only equaled by the enjoyment 
 of Mr. Gabriel’s bed when I arrived at Loanda.” In fact, 
 so refreshing did Livingstone find it that after eating he 
 walked the eight miles to Tete without “the least signs of 
 weariness,” as he himself tells us; although the way was so 
 rough that one of the officers remarked, “ This is enough 
 to tear a man’s life out.” At Tete Livingstone was warmly 
 received by the hospitable and generous Major Sicard. He 
 reclothed Livingstone and his men in the best the place 
 could afford, and secured for them every attention. 
 
 Livingstone’s principal point of destination, as we know, 
 was Quilimane, on the east coast and at the mouth of the 
 Zambesi. When he arrived at Tete he learned that it was 
 the unhealthy season at Quilimane. He was therefore per- 
 suaded by Major Sicard to remain at Tete as his guest for 
 a month, by which time it would doubtless be safe for him 
 to continue his journey. Livingstone accepted this kind 
 offer, which also included his men who had been provided 
 with comfortable huts by the Major’s direction. 
 
300 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 Having waited the month at Tete, Livingstone was about 
 to start down the river, when he was seized with fever. 
 This was on the 4th of April. By the 22d he had so far 
 recovered as to undertake the journey again. Selecting 
 sixteen of his best men, he set off in canoes provided by the 
 commandant. The rest of his Makololos he left with Ma- 
 jor Sicard, who generously offered to give each one of them 
 a piece of land on which he could raise something for him- 
 self. He also granted them permission to hunt elephants, 
 the money obtained from the sale of the tusks and dried 
 meat to be spent for articles of use and ornament for Seke- | 
 letu and their people. Livingstone’s principal reason for 
 leaving so many of his men behind was that a most dis- 
 tressing famine was prevailing at Quilimane. Thousands, 
 chiefly slaves, had perished within the last few weeks. It 
 was certainly a great reproach to the Portuguese govern- 
 ment—or rather to its African administrators—that so 
 many helpless creatures should have perished at this place 
 for want of food, when there was an abundance of it at the 
 other stations up the river and it only being necessary to 
 float it down the river. ; 
 
 Major Sicard sent one of his best officers, Lieutenant Mu- 
 randi, to escort Livingstone and his party to the coast, so 
 that they were relieved of many of the difficulties of the 
 route. Their only unpleasant experience was in haying to 
 walk fifteen miles under the blazing sun along a portion of 
 the delta of the Zambesi that was not navigable. From 
 this exposure to the sun, and the fatigue of walking, Liv- 
 ingstone had a second attack of fever, and he suffered great- 
 ly on his arrival at Senna a day or two later. 
 
 The Zambesi flows into the sea by a number of mouths, 
 which form a considerable delta. The party chose the most 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 301 
 
 northern of these mouths, which led them direct to Quili- 
 mane. ‘This point they reached May 20th, 1856, just a few 
 days within four years after the time when Livingstone set 
 out from Cape Town on his now accomplished journey from 
 sea to sea. We have seen by what trials, dangers, and pri- 
 vations that journey was attended to its close. We know, 
 too, how fearlessly Livingstone stood at his post under the 
 most trying circumstances. Hunger, cold, exhausting heat, 
 and toil, dangers innumerable, even death itself, he had 
 been required to face; yet, having a steadfast faith in the 
 rulings of that mighty Power beneath the shadow of whose 
 wings he calmly rested, this “man of destiny” valiantly 
 battled with each in turn. 
 
 From Quilimane Livingstone at once communicated with 
 the Royal Geographical Society regarding his journey to 
 the east coast. He had found it every way more promis- 
 ing than his visit to the west coast. The beauty and rich- 
 ness of some parts of the country he declared could not be 
 surpassed. Much of this region was densely populated, too, 
 especially that along the basin of the Zambesi. True, a 
 large portion of the inhabitants were hostile, yet he be- 
 lieved that with due caution and right treatment even this 
 serious drawback could be overcome. The antagonistic 
 spirit of the tribes mostly grew out of the ill-usage they had 
 received at the hands of the half-caste traders. As Liy- 
 ingstone had found it elsewhere, so he had found it here— 
 that wherever the noxious roots of slavery had penetrated 
 _there they had grown and expanded into a moral upas-tree, 
 tainting all the atmosphere with its infectious poison. But 
 what might not the powerful and life-giving presence of 
 Christian missions do toward the dissipation of this fateful 
 influence? How many vigorous strokes toward its utter 
 
302 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 annihilation might not one determined arm give to the 
 trunk of this deadly tree? : 
 
 Among the discoveries Livingstone had made on this jour- 
 ney two things that pleased him most were: first, that not 
 a great many miles directly eastward from the country of 
 the Makololo he had found a healthy and elevated belt of 
 land, about “two degrees of longitude broad and of un- 
 known length,” which offered most advantageous induce- 
 ments for the planting of mission stations; and second, that 
 in the Zambesi he had discovered, as he had hoped, an al- 
 most unbroken route to the sea. At last he had accom- 
 plished his part of this unparalleled undertaking: it now 
 remained for his country and the missionary society he rep- 
 resented to do the rest. But would they do it? He could 
 only communicate with each and await the development of 
 events. 
 
 Soon after reaching Quilimane Livingstone had to part 
 with his faithful Makololos. One of the most trying things 
 he had ever been called upon to do was to say good-by to 
 them. He would have liked to put it off a little longer, 
 but the time had come for them to go back to Tete, where 
 they were to await his return from England, he having 
 made all the necessary arrangements with Major Sicard. 
 The grief of the poor fellows when the time of parting had 
 come was most touching. They declared that they could 
 not and would not leave their good father, Livingstone; that 
 wherever he went there were they going too. Again they 
 besought him not to Jeave them, but to return with them. — 
 Livingstone’s distress was great, but it was best for their 
 sake as well as his own that he should be firm with them, 
 So he bade them act like men, as Makolole warriors, and 
 as his children and Sekeletu’s. This touche? the right 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 303 
 chord ; and on his promising to return soon if God spared his 
 life, and to bring Ma-Robert with him, they bravely turned 
 their faces in the direction of Tete. 
 
 But Livingstone did not send all of his men back: he 
 kept Sekwebu, intending to take him on to England. Liv- 
 ingstone’s idea was that on his return Sekwebu might be 
 able to tell Sekeletu and his people just what kind of a 
 country England was, thereby increasing the confidence 
 and trust of the Makololo. Perhaps, too, he thought the 
 presence of the black man among his white brothers might 
 be to them a more eloquent plea for the speedy adjustment 
 of the wrongs of his people. 
 
 At Quilimane Livingstone learned that the captain, lieu- 
 tenant, and five men of Her Majesty’s ship “ Dart” had 
 been drowned off the bar in coming to take him aboard. 
 Of this melancholy event Livingstone says: “I never felt 
 more poignant sorrow. It seemed as if it would have been 
 easier for me to have died for them than that they should 
 all have been cut off from the joys of life, in generous- 
 ly attempting to render me a service.” One of his first 
 acts on returning to England was to write a letter to the 
 Admiralty asking a pension for the widow of one of these 
 gallant men. He had never seen her, he said, but he had 
 been “the unconscious cause of her husband’s death, and 
 all the joy he felt in crossing the continent was embittered 
 when the news of the sad catastrophe reached him.” 
 
 Livingstone remained at Quilimane six weeks. At the 
 end of that time Her Majesty’s brig “ Frolic” was sent to 
 convey him to the island of Mauritius, east from Madagas- 
 car, and whence after a sojourn for rest and recreation he 
 was to sail for England. There vas a heavy sea rolling as 
 Livingstone and Sekwebu entered the small-boat that had 
 
304 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 been sent to convey them to where the “ Frolic” lay at an- 
 chor. This frightened Sekwebu very much. At one mo- 
 ment he seemed on the point of leaping into the water. It 
 was the first time he had seen such a raging sheet of water, 
 and his terror was deep-set. However, when the ship was 
 boarded, and the kind-hearted sailors did all they could to 
 accustom him to the new situation, he became more com- 
 posed in his mind, though there was still an uneasy look in 
 his eyes. But poor Sekwebu’s terror again broke forth— 
 indeed, seemed to reach a climax—when the “ Frolic” lay 
 anchored at the entrance to the harbor of Mauritius, and 
 the steam-launch came out to tow the ship in. The mo- 
 ment “the uncouth, panting monster” drew near, with 
 the dense volumes of smoke issuing from her stacks, and 
 puffing and growling like some tormented creature, Sekwe- 
 bu gave one shriek and jumped from the brig into a small 
 row-boat that lay along-side. When Livingstone followed — 
 him and endeavored to persuade him to return, he broke 
 forth: “Go away, good father, and leave me to die alone! 
 It is enough that J alone die. You must not perish. If 
 you do not go, I shall throw myself into the water.” Liv- 
 ingstone saw that the poor fellow’s terror had culminated 
 in madness, and he scarcely knew what course to pursue. 
 “ Remember, Sekwebu,” he said persuasively, “that we are 
 going to see Ma-Robert. If you destroy yourself, you will 
 not see her.” This had an instant and a most soothing ef- 
 fect upon him. “O yes!” he cried, raising himself sudden- 
 ly, “to see Ma-Robert! But where is she? and where is 
 Robert [Livingstone’s little son]?” In a short time he al- 
 lowed himself to be taken back to the vessel. In the even- 
 ing, however, a fresh fit of insanity came on. He tried to 
 spear one of the men, and ran about the vessel foaming like 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 305 
 
 a maddened beast, and before any one could prevent it he 
 leaped into the sea. Here he deliberately dragged himself 
 down, “hand under hand,” by means of the chain cable, and 
 was drowned. His body was never recovered. 
 
 On the 9th of December, 1856, Livingstone landed in 
 London, and the next morning the Times announced that 
 Dr. Livingstone, the “distinguished African missionary and 
 traveler,” was once more among his countrymen. Three 
 days later, at a most enthusiastic meeting of the Royal Ge- 
 ographical Society, the president, Sir Roderick Murchison, 
 reminded the members that “they were met together for 
 the purpose of welcoming Dr. Livingstone on his return 
 home from South Africa, after an absence of sixteen years, 
 during which, while endeavoring to spread the blessings of 
 Christianity through lands never before trodden by the foot 
 of any European, he had made geographical discoveries of 
 incalculable importance. In all his various journeys Dr. 
 Livingstone had traveled over no less than eleven thousand 
 miles of African territory; and had come back to England 
 as the pioneer of sound and useful knowledge.” A few even- 
 ings after, a similarly warm reception was accorded him 
 by his old employers, the London Missionary Society. In- 
 deed, so many honors were now heaped upon him that it 
 would be impossible to record even a small part of them 
 here. He was everywhere treated with the greatest consid- 
 eration. His zeal, his courage, above all the story of his 
 wonderful achievements in Africa, were the theme of ev- 
 ery tongue. Wherever he went people struggled to get a 
 glimpse of him, and the mere announcement that he would 
 be present at a public gathering was sufficient to crowd the 
 
 building to overflowing. Even the Queen had sent for him 
 to tender her congratulations. 
 20 
 
306 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 All this was surely enough to turn the head of any mortal 
 man; but it had no such effeet upon Livingstone. He re- 
 mained the same modest, unassuming man that we have 
 seen land at Cape Town when his name was scarcely known 
 outside of his own native village. Modesty was one of the 
 most attractive elements of Livingstone’s character; it was 
 so thoroughly a part of himself as to be worn at all times 
 unconsciously, which was its potent charm. Some might 
 have said that his modesty was at times too noticeable. 
 Not so. It was painful to Livingstone to be made a hero, 
 to be eulogized for doing no more than he felt it his duty 
 to do. While he put the lowest estimate upon his own 
 achievements, the mere recital of them had quickened into 
 the intensest enthusiasm the heart of the whole civilized 
 world. Once, being extremely anxious to go to church, and 
 yet dreading the notice it would bring upon him, he man- 
 aged without observation to make his way in by a private 
 entrance to a seat under the top of the gallery, where he 
 would be unseen by the congregation, though seen by the 
 minister. In order to shield himself still more, he held his 
 head down and covered with his hands. But somehow the 
 minister caught sight of him, and most unwisely alluded to 
 him in his last prayer. This gave the people intimation 
 that he was in the building; and the moment the benedic- 
 tion was pronounced they made a rush for him, some climb- 
 ing over the pews in their anxiety and haste to get to him. 
 A similar scene is said to have taken place in a church at 
 Bath during the meeting of the British Association in 1864. 
 
 Another thing to which Livingstone had an extreme 
 aversion was being interviewed for publication. It also 
 greatly annoyed him to have people importuning him for 
 material fora book ora lecture. A well-known gentleman, 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 307 
 
 who was advertised to deliver a lecture the next day, called 
 upon him for the purpose of getting “ dots,” at the residence 
 of Mr. Frederick Fitch, where Livingstone was then stop- 
 ping. Mr. Fitch says in allusion to this interview: “The 
 Doctor sat rather quiet, and, without being rude, treated 
 the gentleman to monosyllabic answers. He could do that 
 —could keep people at a distance when they wanted to 
 make capital out of him. When the stranger had left, 
 turning to my mother he said, with one of his gentlest 
 smiles, ‘I will tell you any thing you like to ask.’ ” 
 
 Livingstone’s personal appearance on his first return to 
 England is thus described: “A foreign-looking person, 
 plainly and rather carelessly dressed, of middle height, 
 bony frame, and Gaelic countenance, with short-cropped 
 hair and mustaches, and generally plain exterior. He ap- 
 pears to be about forty years of age. His face is deeply 
 furrowed and pretty well tanned. It indicates a man of 
 quick and keen discernment, strong impulses, inflexible res- 
 olution, and habitual self-command. Unanimated, its most 
 characteristic expression is that of severity; when excited, 
 a varied expression of earnest and benevolent feeling, and 
 remarkable enjoyment of the ludicrous in circumstances 
 and character, passes over it.” 
 
 Livingstone had not more than landed in England when 
 he hastened to join his loved ones. His wife had gone part 
 of the distance to meet him, so that there were now left only 
 his children, mother, brother, and sisters. The meeting with 
 his aged mother was most pathetic; neither had ever hoped 
 to clasp the other in life again. His father’s empty place 
 in the family circle affected him deeply. “ The first even- 
 ing,” writes one of his sisters, “he asked all about his ill- 
 ness and death. One of us remarking that after he knew 
 
308 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 he was dying his spirits seemed to rise, David burst into 
 tears. At family worship that evening he said with deep 
 feeling: ‘ We bless thee, O Lord, for our parents; we give 
 thee thanks for the dead who has died in the Lord,’ ” 
 
 Through the hospitality of a noble gentleman—Mr. Webb, 
 of Newstead Abbey—Livingstone was enabled to enjoy for 
 several months of his stay in England that rest and recrea- 
 tion of which he stood so much in need. But he took ad- 
 vantage of this pleasant, holiday-like period to work. It 
 was here that he wrote his well-known book, “ Missionary 
 Travels and Researches in South Africa,” which, as one of 
 the most appreciative of his biographers declares, is not 
 only “a permanent addition to the classic library of En- 
 glish travel, but a noble monument to a man in whose 
 pages worth shines as much as vigor, and modesty as much 
 as worth.” 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 RETURN TO AFRICA—THE RECEPTION AT CAPE TOWN—THE “MA. 
 ROBERT” —OBJECT OF THE SECOND EXPEDITION—DISCOVERY OF 
 THE TRUE MOUTH OF THE ZAMBESI—THE SAIL UP THE RIVER 
 —ARRIVAL AT TETE—THE KEBRABASA RAPIDS—UNSATISFAC- 
 TORY CONDUCT OF THE “‘ MA-ROBERT”—EXPLORATIONS OF THE 
 SHIRE—DISCOVERY OF LAKES SHIRNA AND NYASSA—STEPS TO- 
 WARD THE ESTABLISHMENT OF A MISSION STATION—UNEX- 
 PECTED NEWS OF THE ARRIVAL OF A LITTLE STRANGER. 
 
 N the 10th day of March, 1858, Dr. Livingstone 
 again left England for Africa. This time he was 
 acompanied by Mrs. Livingstone, their youngest son, Os- 
 well, and the members of an exploring party that had been 
 organized in England for the purpose of aiding him in his 
 further researches. Among the latter were Dr. Kirke, a 
 distinguished scientist, and Livingstone’s brother, Charles. 
 The party carried with them the sections of a small steamer, 
 which was to be put together at the mouth of the Zambesi, 
 and by means of which they were expected to overcome 
 many of the difficulties attendant upon their explorations 
 of the river. This little steamer Livingstone had affection- 
 ately christened the ‘ Ma-Robert,” the name by which his 
 wife was known among the Makololo and other African 
 tribes. 
 Recognizing the distinguished services already rendered 
 by Livingstone as calling for a mark of its highest appre- 
 ciation, as well as desiring to invest him with every author- 
 
 ity in its power while prosecuting his wonderful discoveries, 
 (309) 
 
310 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 the English Government had appointed him consul for South- 
 eastern Africa. In the meanwhile, through causes which 
 it is unnecessary to state here, Livingstone had severed his 
 connection with the London Missionary Society, though he 
 had by no means abandoned the determination to do mis- 
 sionary work among the natives whenever and wherever 
 he could. 
 
 Considering the circumstances that surrounded its organ- 
 ization, as well as the new office that had been bestowed 
 upon Livingstone, this second expedition was looked upon 
 in the light of a national enterprise; and when he sailed 
 from England it was with the eyes of the whole English 
 people upon him. The ever-present object of this expedi- 
 tion is thus set forth in Livingstone’s instructions: “To ex- 
 tend the knowledge already attained of the geography and 
 the mineral and agricultural resources of Eastern and Cen- 
 tral Africa; to improve his acquaintance with the inhab- 
 itants, and to encourage them to apply themselves to agri- 
 cultural pursuits and the cultivation of their land, with a 
 view to the production of raw material, which might be ex- 
 ported to England in return for British manufactures.” 
 
 The party landed at Cape Town, There Livingstone and 
 his wife found Mr. and Mrs. Moffat awaiting them. A few 
 days later Mrs. Livingstone was taken so ill that it was 
 thought advisable for her not to attempt going on with the 
 explorers. She therefore remained at Cape Town until she 
 had partially recovered, when she proceeded to Kuruman 
 with her parents. 
 
 Livingstone met with a most enthusiastic reception from 
 his countrymen at Cape Town. He was tendered a grand 
 banquet, at which a magnificent silver box containing eight 
 hundred guineas was presented to him, together with the 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 311 
 
 freedom of the city. Everywhere he went his consul’s uni- 
 form, especially the Queen’s gold band around his cap, at- 
 tracted admiring attention. It would be impossible to enu- 
 merate the honors that were heaped upon him. Living- 
 stone could not help contrasting this visit with one he had 
 made six years before. Then no one noticed the poor, ob- 
 scure missionary, who had great difficulty in procuring nec- 
 essary supplies for the long and hazardous journey since be- 
 come the joyful theme of nearly every civilized tongue on 
 earth. Now every one was fawning at his feet. He would 
 have been less than human had he not bestowed a sarcastic 
 reflection upon the world’s ways. 
 
 At the mouth of the Zambesi the “ Ma-Robert” was put 
 together. And now we come to the first important incident 
 of Livingstone’s exploration of the Zambesi. It certainly 
 was an auspicious augury that it should have happened 
 before the expedition had fairly begun. At that day the 
 mouths of the Zambesi were but little known. Speculation 
 had advanced much in regard to them, while discovery, on 
 the other hand, had proved nothing as yet, doubtless be- 
 eause it had undertaken nothing. The Portuguese Govern- 
 ment, however, was in possession of the secret of the true 
 outlet; but so far, for reasons that will shortly be made 
 known, it had chosen to keep it a secret—further, as a se- 
 cret well guarded. The impression left by it upon the out- 
 side world was that the Quilimane was the only navigable 
 mouth of the great river. Their reason for doing this was 
 to facilitate and protect their slave-dealing operations. 
 While the English cruisers, sent to put down the slave 
 traffic, were watching what they believed to be the only 
 navigable mouth of the river, the slaves were quietly slipped 
 through another and a more direct way. However, to do 
 
312 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 justice to the local authorities—among them Livingstone’s 
 generous friend, Major Sicard—we must state that they 
 knew nothing of these cunning maneuvers on the part of 
 the slave-traders. They were as much in the dark as the 
 outsiders. As proof of their honesty, Livingstone had no 
 sooner discovered the real mouth of the river—the Kon- 
 gone outlet—than they at once proceeded in a movement 
 to have a station and a fort established at the entrance. Of 
 course it brought them into collision with the Portuguese 
 Government. But upon this feud it is not necessary to 
 dwell. 
 
 The most navigable route being now discovered, the “ Ma- 
 Robert” went steaming up the Kongone. Everywhere the 
 natives retreated in terror at their approach. This horrid 
 puffing monster, with the dense clouds of black smoke pour- 
 ing from it, was too much for African nerves. They had 
 never in their lives seen any thing so terrible, or even 
 dreamed of it. Occasionally when the party went on shore 
 they could induce them, after much persuasion, to return to 
 the banks for another look, especially if the panting monster 
 was lying quiet at its moorings; but the moment the whis- 
 tle blew they all rushed away again in the greatest terror, 
 falling over each other in their mad flight, and shouting 
 at the top of their voices: “ Mother! mother! Save us. 
 mother! ” 
 
 Though there were very few difficulties of navigation to 
 overcome while steaming up the delta of the river, the “ Ma- 
 Robert ” nevertheless acted very unsatisfactorily, and Liy- 
 ingstone began to fear for a worse exhibition when real ob- 
 stacles presented themselves, as well as to have an unpleas- 
 ant presentiment that he had been badly swindled in this 
 purchase. The slowness of their progress, however, had 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 313 
 
 one advantageous side—it gave Livingstone ample time for 
 accurate observation. He was more than pleased with all 
 he saw. He found the land of the delta so rich that on it, 
 he calculated, almost fabulous quantities of cotton and su- 
 gar-cane might be raised. If properly cultivated, he did 
 not doubt that this delta of the Zambesi could supply the 
 whole of Europe with sugar. Nowhere had he seen land 
 more fertile, or that could be more easily cultivated. Ten 
 acres of such Jand within easy access of some commercial port 
 would be a little fortune to any man. The growth of tim- 
 ber in some places was truly magnificent, many of the trees 
 towering a hundred and fifty feet high. In one spot alone 
 —not more than two or three acres—Livingstone saw ebo- 
 ny and lignum-vitze enough to have made their possessor a 
 millionare twice over, had the facilities been offered for their 
 shipment to England. Such costly woods as these were 
 often used as fuel on the “rebellious little steamer.” Know- 
 ing their value, the engineer often asserted that it “ made 
 his heart sore to burn wood so valuable.” India-rubber 
 trees were seen in large quantities, while along the banks 
 of the river wild indigo grew in the richest profusion. 
 
 The delta also abounded in animal life. There were 
 birds innumerable—from the tiny bee-hunter, flitting in and 
 out among the glossy mangoes, to the tall and stately crane 
 and flamingo feeding upon the worms and fish along the 
 edges of the many islands that dotted the stream. There, 
 too, were the brown kite, “ piping like a boatswain,” the 
 spotted cuckoo, the roller horn-bill, and a host of other 
 ‘sma’, merry singers,’ each giving vent to its volume of 
 delicious sounds, which, combining, made “an African 
 Christmas seem like an English May.” Animals there 
 were, too, of every size and variety—from the baby croco- 
 
 ? 
 
314 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 dile basking in the sun to the monster hippopotamus, the 
 king of the African rivers. 
 
 = 
 S 
 
 i] 
 
 SW 
 
 When the explorers started up the delta the prospect was 
 somewhat dreary and uninviting, marked as it was by vast 
 stretches of grassy plains, the only other signs of vegetation 
 being here and there a cluster of stately palms, the “ round, 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 315 
 
 green tops of which looked at a distance as though sus- 
 pended in the air.” But the farther they advanced the 
 more charming grew the scenery. The foliage of the trees 
 seemed to vie with each other in their richness and beauty, 
 while in many places the grasses and the ferns shot upward 
 to the height of a tall man’s head. From out the clusters 
 of bananas and cocoa-palms peeped the huts of the natives, 
 looking very neat and picturesque, while about them the 
 little patches of garden, in which grew potatoes, pumpkins, 
 cabbages, onions, peas, and many other things, presented a 
 scene of pleasing cultivation. These natives of the Zam- 
 besi were evidently thrifty farmers. 
 
 At Tete the party was warmly received by the hospitable 
 Major Sicard. As to the Makololos who had been left there 
 to await Livingstone’s return from England, they were near- 
 ly beside themselves with joy at seeing their father once 
 more. They leaped and danced about him, and were on 
 the point of throwing themselves bodily upon him to em- 
 brace him, when one, more observant than the others, sud- 
 denly shouted forth: “ Look out! look out! you will ruin 
 his new clothes!” For the first time now they all seemed 
 to notice how much improved their father was in the style 
 of his dress. After that they could do nothing but walk 
 around him, and admire the many appointments of his uni- 
 form, especially the cap with the gold band. “ Why, he is 
 finer even than the Portuguese braves at the forts,” they 
 declared enthusiastically. Livingstone’s own pleasure on 
 meeting with his faithful men again was considerably damp- 
 ened by the fact that while he was gone many had died with 
 that dread disease, small-pox; and six of those left, grow- 
 ing tired of work and impatient at Livingstone’s long ab- 
 sence, had gone away to dance before some of the neighbor- 
 
316 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 ing chiefs. Among these was a cowardly and cruel chief 
 by the name of Bonga, who on some slight pretext had 
 put all the men to death. The Makololo said: “ We do 
 not grieve for those who died of the small-pox, for they were 
 taken by Morimo [God]; but our hearts are sore for the 
 six youths who were murdered by Bonga.” Livingstone 
 had sad news to impart to them, too. This was the insani- 
 ty and death of Sekwebu. At first they were deeply grieved 
 by the intelligence, but finally they said: “ Well, men must 
 all die. They die in one country as well as in another. 
 Sekwebu too is with Morimo; so we will not mourn for 
 him, for he is at peace.” 
 
 On reaching Tete, Livingstone found that the most for- 
 midable object that stood in the way of his farther navi- 
 gation of the Zambesi was the Kebrabasa Rapids. These 
 rapids were about twenty-five or thirty miles above Tete. 
 He had heard of them on his journey down from Linyanti, 
 though he had not as yet seen them. He now determined 
 to go and take a look at them. He found them fully as 
 formidable as they had been pictured. They were formed 
 by a range of rocky mountains that crossed the Zambesi at 
 this point. Here, during the dry season, the bed of the 
 river narrowed to a channel of not more than sixty yards 
 in width, through which were strewed masses of rock of ey- 
 ery conceivable size and shape. The rapids themselves ex- 
 tended for fully eight miles. Livingstone saw that it would 
 be dangerous to attempt to force a steamer through them 
 except during a high flood; but he resolved to try the ex- 
 periment as soon as the stream had become somewhat more 
 swollen than it was at that time. On returning to Tete he 
 learned that tliese were not the only rapids in the way of nay- 
 igation; that a few miles farther up there were others almost 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 317 
 
 as formidable—the Mburuma. In company with Dr. Kirke 
 and four of the Makololo, Livingstone started off in search 
 of these rapids. The party had a frightful experience. 
 Part of the route lay over rocks so hot that the Makololo’s 
 feet were burned until they rose into blisters and burst. 
 Leaving the poor fellows by the way to heal their burns, 
 Livingstone and Dr. Kirke pushed on alone. In three 
 hours they made but one mile, while their boots and cloth- 
 ing were completely destroyed. It was evident to Living- 
 stone that had he and the Makololos taken this route in 
 1856, instead of that through the level Shidina country, 
 all must have perished. It was surely God who had led 
 them aright, and Livingstone devoutly thanked him for 
 his mercy. The Mburuma Rapids were found to be almost 
 as formidable as those of the Kebrabasa, as Livingstone had 
 been told they were. But his faith and courage did not 
 permit him to doubt that engineering skill could in time 
 overcome them. God would certainly open the way. 
 Waiting at Tete for the rains, Livingstone attempted to 
 stem the Kebrabasa Rapids when the bed of the river had 
 been considerably swollen; but he found it an impossible 
 undertaking with the “Ma-Robert.” He now suspected 
 more strongly than ever that he had been swindled by the 
 builder of the vessel. The amount of fuel she consumed 
 was simply enormous. It would have served two steamers 
 double her size, while her furnace had to be lighted hours 
 before sufficient steam could be gotten up to start her off. 
 Tn addition, she “snorted so horribly” that she well de- 
 served the name the men had in derision bestowed upon 
 her—“ The Asthmatic.”. As to getting up the requisite 
 amount of steam to carry her over the rapids, or any thing 
 like enough even to make the attempt, every effort in that 
 
318 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 direction proved a dismal failure. In fact, she was alto- 
 gether unequal to so much as an ordinary emergency, and 
 this they soon discovered. Livingstone was both chagrined 
 and disgusted at this state of affairs. He determined to 
 communicate with the English Government in regard to 
 the matter. He did not ask out and out for another steam- 
 er of a superior build, but he left it so that they could 
 offer one if they desired. While waiting for an answer, 
 however, and knowing that such things were often delayed 
 to an indefinite time through the want of harmony of some 
 of the parties concerned, he determined to get another 
 steamer at his own expense. He was enabled to do this 
 through the proceeds of the sale of his book. While ar- 
 rangements were being made for the new steamer, Living- 
 stone decided upon an exploration of the Shire, one of the 
 most important tributaries of the Zambesi. When his 
 friends at Tete learned of this determination, they tried to 
 dissuade him from it. They told him it was a most peril- 
 ous undertaking, and one out of which he could scarcely 
 hope to come with his life. Besides the dangers of the 
 river and the many deadly serpents and ferocious beasts 
 with which the forest abounded, the natives along the banks 
 of the Shire were among the most treacherous and blood- 
 thirsty of all the African tribes. But Livingstone was not 
 to be deterred from his undertaking even by a knowledge 
 of such dangers as these. He had faced death too many 
 times to falter now. So, early in January, 1859, the brave 
 explorers set forth. They found things fully as bad as 
 they had been represented. Day after day their lives hung 
 by a mere thread; but God preserved them. 
 
 The Shire, although much narrower than the Zambesi, 
 was far deeper and easier of navigation. Hence the “ Ma- 
 
= 
 
 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 519 
 
 Robert,” though she had behaved so badly at the Kebra- 
 basa Rapids, went along very well now—still, at a snail- 
 like pace. 
 
 At the village of chief Tingane a most hostile demonstra- 
 tion awaited the expedition. Fully five hundred men were 
 drawn up in line, facing the river, to receive them. Liv- 
 ingstone boldly went ashore, seeking a personal interview 
 with Tingane. After much delay, during which the aspect 
 of things heeame more and more threatening, his wish was 
 granted. When Tingane appeared he was seen to be a 
 powerfully built chief, over six feet tall. Livingstone cor- 
 dially approached and grasped Tingane’s hand, frankly 
 stating his object in coming up the river, and politely ask- 
 ing permission to proceed. Tingane was charmed and 
 flattered, and in a little while the permission was unhesi- 
 tatingly given. 
 
 At another village the people acted altogether different- 
 ly. They seemed overcome with fright, although Living- 
 stone had heard they bore quite a warlike reputation. On 
 the approach of Livingstone and his white companions they 
 fled in terror to their huts, shuttimg themselves in and re- 
 fusing to be seen. It was doubtless the “ Ma-Robert,” more 
 than any thing else, that had frightened them; though the 
 farther Livingstone proceeded the more evidences he saw 
 that he and his friends were the first white men who had 
 ever ascended the Shire. Occasionally on this journey they 
 came upon a village where the inhabitants lived in huts, 
 either built quite at the tops of thick-growing trees or mid- 
 way of the dense branches. These airy dwelling-places 
 were very ingeniously contrived, were reached by ladders 
 that could be drawn up and let down, and were constructed 
 —as our travelers afterward learned—not only as a protec- 
 
ZAM 
 
 E> 
 
 5 aS . Sal 
 | ar z uD RGN A 
 
 S IN AFRICA. 
 
 LLE 
 
 it} 
 TREE-DWE 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 321 
 
 tion from wild beasts, but from equally dangerous human 
 enemies. 
 
 Livingstone and his companions were favorably impressed 
 with the lower valley of the Shire, which they left the 
 steamer to explore. It was about twenty miles in width, 
 with a deep and fertile soil, shut in by tall, beautiful hills 
 crowned with verdure. Many of these hills rose to an al- 
 titude of fully four thousand feet above the level of the sea. 
 The party climbed to the summit of one, called Morambala 
 by the natives. At one side, where it seemed more densely 
 wooded than at any other point, and where the ground was 
 very moist, Dr. Kirke found no less than thirty different 
 species of ferns. In the forests around the base of the Mo- 
 rambala monkeys, antelopes, rhinoceroses, and many of the 
 larger birds, were seen in the greatest abundance. The 
 monkeys were so tame that they often approached near 
 enough to snatch playfully at parts of the travelers’ cloth- 
 ing. In the midst of a plain at the northern end they came 
 upon a hot fountain bubbling up to the distance of many 
 feet. It boiled up from the earth in two spouts, one but a 
 few yards from the other. The water of each was perfect- 
 ly clear, and sparkled like crystal in the sun’s rays. Both 
 spouts were boiling hot, and cooked an egg thoroughly done 
 in about the usual time. Penetrating deeper into the for- 
 ests that grew about the base of this hill, the party discov- 
 ered two enormous pythons coiled together among the 
 branches of a tree. They were immediately shot and meas- 
 ured. The largest was something over ten feet in length. 
 Some natives, who had followed in the wake of the explor- 
 ers, besought them for the bodies of the pythons. This be- 
 ing granted, they at once ravenously devoured the reptiles. 
 
 The people of this lower valley of the Shire were some- 
 
 21 
 
322 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 what inclined to be warlike, but they treated the explorers 
 quite hospitably. This was due to Livingstone’s manner of 
 approaching them, and his habit of openly avowing the 
 object of his presence among them. They were extensive 
 farmers, raising maize, pumpkins, potatoes, and tobacco in 
 vast quantities. 
 
 About two hundred miles up the river the travelers came 
 to.a series of cataracts, to which Livingstone gave the name 
 “Murchison Cataracts,” in honor of the President of the 
 London Geographical Society. As these cataracts stopped 
 the farther progress of the party, they returned to Tete. 
 
 In March, 1859, Livingstone again ascended the Shire. 
 As the natives had received no hurt on his former visit, 
 they now welcomed him cordially. They were convinced 
 
 _that he intended them only good, and as this conviction in- 
 creased so did their trust in him. On this journey Living- 
 stone formed the acquaintance of Chibisa, 2 chief whom he 
 describes as “a jolly fellow who laughs easily—which is al- 
 ways a good sign.” He reminded Livingstone of Katema, 
 since he had Katema’s bombastic tendencies and much of 
 his kind-heartedness. There were two things in which Chi- 
 bisa believed firmly—one, the “divine right of kings;” the 
 other, that “‘ Chibisa could do no wrong.” Though so hos- 
 pitable toward Livingstone and his friends, he had the rep- 
 utation of a warrior. This he tried to excuse to Living- 
 stone by declaring that those with whom he fought were 
 always in the wrong, while he was invariably in the right. 
 ““l was an ordinary man,” he would say to Livingstone, 
 “when my father died, and left me the chieftainship; but 
 directly I succeeded to the high office I was conscious of 
 power passing into my head and down my back. I felt it 
 enter, and I knew that I was a chief clothed with author- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 323 
 
 ity, and possessed of wisdom; and people then began to fear 
 and reverence me.” . 
 
 At Chibisa’s village Livingstone and his party left the 
 steamer and started overland in search of a large lake of 
 which he had heard during his present and his former vis- 
 it. On the 18th of April they came upon Lake Shirwa, as 
 it was called by the natives. It was a fine, large sheet of 
 water, and the discoverers felt that it was well worth all 
 the trials and dangers they had passed. Livingstone 
 thought it resembled Lake Ngami, but it was hardly so 
 large. The water, too, unlike that of Ngami, was brack- 
 ish. Livingstone thus describes the lake: “It was very 
 grand, for we could not see the end of it, though some way 
 up a mountain; and all around it are mountains, much 
 higher than one ever sees in Scotland. One mountain 
 stands in the lake, and people live on it. Another, called 
 Zomba, is more than six thousand feet high, and people live 
 on it too, for we could see their gardens on its top, which 
 is larger than from Glasgow to Hamilton, or about fifteen 
 to eighteen miles. The country is quite a highland region, 
 and many people live in it. Most of them were afraid of 
 us. The women ran into their huts and shut the doors. 
 The children screamed in terror, and even the hens would 
 fly away and leave their chickens.” The lake was found 
 to be filled with fish of various kinds; also, with croco- 
 diles and hippopotami in abundance. By a measurement 
 made afterward it was estimated to be fully eighty miles 
 long and nearly twenty in width. 
 
 On their way back the valley of the Shire was again ex- 
 amined. Livingstone was still more pleased with it, espe- 
 cially that portion lying between the upper and the lower 
 plains. He found the entire valley to consist of three dif 
 
324 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 ferent levels, First, there was the plain lying immediate- 
 ly along the river banks. This was in many parts close 
 and hot, very much like that of the Nile. Rising above 
 this, in an easterly direction, there was another plain some 
 two thousand feet high and four or five thousand feet wide, 
 with a salubrious and pleasant climate, and rich in vegeta- 
 tion. Lastly, there was a third plain which reached an 
 elevation fully three thousand feet above the second, and 
 was positively cold. To find so many different varieties of 
 climate within so small a radius was both interesting and 
 pleasing to Livingstone, It proved how very wonderful 
 were the resources of this country which he had come to 
 open up. He was more pleased with the central plain than 
 with any other, as we have intimated. 
 
 At one point just below this valley the river was exceed- 
 ingly deep and rapid, “running in some places like a mill- 
 race,” says Livingstone, “and with power enough to turn 
 allthe mills in England.” No danger there from a drought. 
 In addition to the maize, pumpkins, potatoes, and other veg- 
 etables already enumerated as growing here in such prodi- 
 gal abundance, there were sugar-cane, cotton, lemons, and 
 ginger. The cotton excited the admiration of the whole 
 party. It was the most beautiful white cotton they had 
 ever seen. Samples of it afterward sent to Manchester cre- 
 ated quite a furor, and were pronounced by the best judges 
 to be of “the finest quality.” In his dispatch announcing 
 to the Government his discovery of the lake and this won- 
 derful section of country, Livingstone said: “ We have 
 opened a sugar and cotton district of great and unknown 
 extent, and which really seems to afford a reasonable pros- 
 pect of great commercial benefit to our own country; it 
 presents facilities for commanding a large section of the 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 325 
 
 slave-market on the coast, and offers a fair hope of its sup- 
 pression by lawful commerce.” 
 
 When news of these valuable discoveries reached En- 
 gland, the name of Livingstone shone with increased luster, 
 if that were possible, while countless tongues were again add- 
 ing their glowing tributes to the measure of his fame. But 
 now mark the modest avowal of him who took not one tittle 
 of the honor to himself, but gave it to that constantly abid- 
 ing Power which had in every thing guided and upheld him: 
 “T cannot and will not attribute any of the public atten- 
 tion which has been awakened to my own wisdom or to my 
 ability. The great Power being my Helper, I shall always 
 say that my success is all owing to his favor. I have but 
 been the channel of the Divine Power, and I pray that his 
 gracious influence may penetrate me so that all may turn 
 to the advancement of his gracious reign in this fallen 
 world.” 
 
 One fruit of Livingstone’s discovery of this central valley 
 of the Shire was the establishment there, not a great while 
 after, of a mission station, over which Bishop McKenzie, 
 with some able assistants from the two leading universities 
 of England—Cambridge and Oxford—was sent to preside. 
 They found it a most favorable spot indeed, and every 
 thing promised well until the unfortunate Bishop, through 
 arash and indiscreet step, fell into a fatal error which in 
 the end cost him his life. Unlike Livingstone, who at all 
 times pursued a conservative course—never, under any 
 provocation, espousing the cause of one tribe against an- 
 other—the Bishop, in a moment of righteous indignation, 
 became the adjuster of the wrongs of a weak tribe that was 
 being intimidated by astronger. It was a kindly and chiv- 
 alric impulse that prompted the Bishop to the step he took, 
 
326 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 but that it was also a most injudicious and fateful impulse, 
 the sequel, alas! showed only too well. His life paid the 
 forfeit. He now lies buried on one of the most elevated of 
 the plateaus of the central Shire valley, under the shade of 
 a tall monarch of the African forest, and through its sway- 
 ing branches the winds play the requiem of one truly noble 
 avd universally regretted. 
 
 But while these missions were being established in the 
 Shire valley through Livingstone’s influence, we must not 
 think that he had forgotten his old friends Sekeletu and 
 the Makololos, or their pressing needs. His heart had 
 been with them from the moment of his departure from 
 Linyanti to the present time. One of his first steps on ar- 
 riving in England had been to get a missionary, or mission- 
 aries, sent to Linyanti. He was willing to go himself as 
 their missionary—nay, he would gladly have done so—but 
 he felt that other and more pressing duties were calling him 
 in another direction. As soon as he had acquired a reve- 
 nue from the sale of his book, he proceeded to supplement 
 his petition by the offer of five hundred pounds paid down 
 for an outfit, and one hundred and fifty pounds yearly to- 
 ward the salary of the missionary. Soon after this two mis- 
 sionaries, with their assistants, were sent to the country of 
 the Makololo. The readiness with which Livingstone took 
 so snug a sum from his private income—never at any time 
 very large—and the equal readiness with which he pledged 
 himself to pay the additional one hundred and fifty pounds 
 a year, proved more than ever the sincerity of his desires 
 to better the condition of those for whose final enlighten- 
 ment and elevation he had labored so unremittingly for 
 eighteen years. 
 
 Money was never to Livingstone the source of any sordid 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 327 
 
 consideration. He saw in it merely the means of accom- 
 plishing the work to which he had given himself. As to 
 his own personal needs and wants—even that provision for 
 the future about which the least mercenary of men are wont 
 to concern themselves so closely as to forget the claims of 
 others—he left these, as he left himself and all that was his 
 (wife, children, every thing) in the hands of Him who had 
 upheld his every step along the course he had made such 
 an honor to himself and such a blessing to others. “ My 
 funds could not be better spent than in this cause,” said 
 Livingstone when speaking of it to a friend. “You fear 
 that I will impoverish myself. J have no such fear. Peo- 
 ple who are born rich sometimes become miserable for fear 
 of becoming poor. I have the advantage, you see, in not 
 being afraid to die poor. If I live, I must succeed in what 
 I have undertaken; death alone will put a stop to my ef- 
 forts.” 
 
 Early in August Livingstone began his third expedition 
 up the Shire. He was again accompanied by Dr. Kirke, 
 his brother Charles, and thirty-six of the Makololo men. It 
 was on this journey that the magnificent Nyassa lake was 
 discovered by the explorers, after a twenty days’ hard 
 march northward through the Shire country. The very 
 first view of it excited their warmest enthusiasm, for it was 
 the grandest sheet of water they had yet seen in Africa— 
 nearly two hundred miles long and fully fifty in breadth. 
 Like all vast bodies of water, it was subject to sudden and 
 violent storms. Our explorers were caught in one of these 
 storms, and came near being shipwrecked. 
 
 The discovery of the two lakes, the Shirwa and the Ny- 
 assa, proved of more importance than was at first supposed. 
 They were both found to lie parallel to the ocean, and the 
 
328 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 whole traffic of the regions beyond must necessarily pass 
 through them. Though greatly pleased by this last dis- 
 covery, and much impressed with the wonderful country, 
 nevertheless Livingstone grew sick at heart when he found 
 that it was the center of an immense district that annually 
 supplied more slaves for the markets of the coast than any 
 other of its size in the whole Continent. Here once more 
 was he face to face with that dread evil which failed not 
 to blight every thing it touched; here once more did he 
 stand within an earthly Eden, over every fair flower of 
 which the serpent had left its poisonous trail. 
 
 The country around Lake Nyassa was densely populated, 
 far exceeding any thing of the kind Livingstone had yet 
 seen in Africa. At its southern end there was an almost 
 unbroken continuation of villages, the majority of them con- 
 taining not Jess than a thousand inhabitants each. Unlike 
 many of the African tribes, the people of this favored region 
 seemed imbued with a spirit of industry. They cultivated 
 the soil extensively, raised nearly every thing it was prac- 
 ticable for them to raise, besides working in iron and cot- 
 ton, and at basket-making. Almost every village had its 
 smelting - house, charcoal- burners, and blacksmiths. The 
 axes, spears, arrow-heads, needles, bracelets, and anklets they 
 turned out, while not of the finest workmanship, were fash- 
 ioned with much skill. Crockery and pottery of various 
 kinds were also manufactured, while strong and serviceable 
 fishing-nets, after the most approved mode, were made from 
 the fibers of the buaze, which grows in abundance upon the 
 hills. In spite of the creditable beginning they seemed to 
 be making in the direction of civilization, these people had 
 many strange, even barbarous customs. Among others was 
 the habit of wearing the pelele, or lip-ring, which prevailed 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 329 
 
 principally among women. A small hole was made in the 
 upper lip and gradually widened, the latter process extend- 
 ing over several years. This continued until an aper- 
 ture from one to two inches, according to the fancy of the 
 wearer, became permanent. Into this aperture a large 
 tin or iron ring was forced until the lip protruded two 
 inches or more beyond thenose. “Thus,” says Livingstone, 
 “when an old wearer of a hollow ring smiles, by the ac- 
 tion of the muscle of the cheek the ring and lip outside of 
 it are dragged back and thrown over the eyebrows. The 
 nose is seen through the middle of the ring; and the ex- 
 posed teeth show how carefully they have been chipped to 
 look like those of the crocodile.” To Livingstone’s oft- 
 repeated question, as to why they followed this custom, 
 they invariably replied, “O because it is in the fashion!” 
 However, on his putting the same query to an old chief, 
 he was greeted with the following reply, not given without 
 some little attempt at a display of humor: “ For beauty, to 
 be sure! Men have beards and whiskers; women have 
 none; and what kind of creature would a woman be with- 
 out whiskers and without the pelele? She would have a 
 mouth like a man, and no beard. Ha! ha! ha!” 
 Although inclined to be very prying and curious, the 
 people of this region were quite inoffensive; at least, they 
 never showed any signs of molesting the strangers. It isa 
 wonder, too, especially as they took the white members of 
 the exploring party to be some kind of animal of which 
 they had never even heard. “Their worst annoyance,” 
 says Livingstone, “ was to lift the edge of the tent, peep in, 
 as boys in England do the curtain of a traveling menag- 
 erie, and exclaim, ‘Chirombo, Chirombo!’ which being An- 
 glicized means, ‘ Wild beasts, fit to be eaten!’” In a little 
 
330 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 while, however, Livingstone had made such friends with 
 every tribe visited in the Nyassa country that they no 
 longer looked upon him as a curious beast, but as a most 
 superior being. As the Makololo had done, so did they too 
 in time begin to call him father, and to greet him with a 
 show of the greatest reverence and respect wherever he 
 appeared. 
 
 Early in November, 1859, Livingstone found himself 
 back at Tete. Here most unexpected but pleasing intelli- 
 gence of a domestic nature greeted him. A letter from 
 Mrs. Livingstone stated, among other things, that a little 
 daughter had been born to them on the 16th of November, 
 1858. ‘The Lord bless her, and make her his own child 
 in heart and in life!” was Livingstone’s fervent prayer 
 when he read these lines. To think she had been almost a 
 year in the world before he had heard of her existence! 
 
CHAPTER XXIT. 
 
 GOING HOME WITH THE MAKOLOLO—A SECOND LOOK AT THE 
 VICTORIA FALLS—PAINFUL NEWS—ARRIVAL AT SESHEKE—SE- 
 KELETU’S TERRIBLE CONDITION—LIVINGSTONE EFFECTS A CURE 
 —PAINFUL FOREBODINGS IN REGARD TO THE MAKOLOLO—THE 
 RETURN TO TETE— DEVOTION OF LIVINGSTONE’S MEN—DR. 
 KIRKE MEETS WITH A LOSS—THE NEW STEAMER “ PIONEER” 
 —ARRIVAL OF BISHOP M’KENZIE AND ASSISTANTS—TO THE 
 MOUTH OF THE ROVUMA—UP THE SHIRE—AT CHIBISA’S TOWN 
 —LIBERATION OF THE SLAVES—AN ERRAND OF PEACE TURNED 
 INTO ONE OF WAR—THE NEW MISSION—ARRIVAL OF MRS. LIV- 
 INGSTONE, MISS MKENZIE, AND OTHERS—DISASTROUS ENDING 
 OF THE LITTLE MISSION—ILLNESS AND DEATH OF MRS. LIV- 
 INGSTONE—SECOND EXPLORATION OF THE ROVUMA—AGAIN UP 
 THE SHIRE—AN APPALLING STATE OF AFFAIRS—THE CURSE 
 OF THE SLAVE-TRADE. 
 
 OR a long while Livingstone had cherished the desire 
 
 to return to his old friends, Sekeletu and the Mako- 
 
 lolo. He therefore departed from Tete for Linyanti on the 
 15th of May, 1860. Before leaying he employed himself 
 in putting together and operating a sugar-mill that had 
 been sent to Sekeletu by a noble lady in England. He 
 would have liked to carry it to the chief on this expedition, 
 but it was impossible to do so until he had stemmed the 
 
 rapids with the new steamer. 
 
 The party left Tete in the best of spirits, especially the 
 Makololo, whose joy was great when they found themselves 
 once more homeward-bound. The white men were Dr. Liv- 
 
 ingstone, his brother Charles, and Dr. Kirke. The Mako. 
 : (331) 
 
332 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 lolo were very attentive to each of them, but it could be 
 plainly seen that no one would ever supplant Livingstone 
 in their affections. They took it turn about to cut grass 
 for the Englishmen’s beds, and always secured a plentiful 
 supply, though sometimes at a great discomfort to them- 
 selves. On these beds, with their thick rugs drawn over 
 them, the three white men slept very comfortably, while 
 the Makololo tended the fires all through the night, in 
 watches of from four to five each. The beds of the Mako- 
 lolo were most ingeniously contrived, consisting of palm- 
 leaves sewed together around three sides of the square, the 
 one side being left open so as to enable the man to crawl 
 into it. 
 
 On the 9th of August, 1860, the party reached the great 
 Victoria Falls, the smoke of which they had seen fully 
 twenty miles away. The awe of Dr. Kirke and Charles 
 Livingstone on beholding this immense cataract was fully 
 as great as Livingstone’s had been on a previous occasion. 
 Charles Livingstone, who had seen Niagara, pronounced 
 the Victoria far superior to that in every way. Here 
 they remained long enough to make as accurate measure- 
 ments as possible. This was chiefly at Livingstone’s desire. 
 He was afraid that he had not been altogether accurate in 
 his first reports. So unusual were the dimensions of this 
 gigantic fall of waters, he also feared that many might ac- 
 cuse him of exaggeration. Such a tendency as this was as 
 foreign to Livingstone’s nature as was point-blank decep- 
 tion itself—the latter, as we well know, an utter impossi- 
 bility with him. He held in supreme contempt, even loath- 
 ing, the least inclination to the slightest misrepresentation, 
 especially so when that misrepresentation was for the pur- 
 pose of gaining the world’s ear. ‘‘ The truth, the unblem- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 333 
 
 ished, unimpeachable truth, at all hazards,” was his motto. 
 He was therefore greatly pleased to find that his former es- 
 timates had all been right. 
 
 When the party reached the confines of Sekeletu’s ter- 
 ritory they were greeted by very unexpected and crushing 
 news, especially to Livingstone. Both of the missionaries 
 sent through his efforts to Linyanti had died with the fe- 
 ver; and the assistants, becoming frightened and discour- 
 aged, had Jeft the place. If they had only taken liberal 
 doses of the quinine which had been sent along with the 
 supplies, Livingstone thought much, if not all, of this mis- 
 fortune might have been averted. He suspected that in 
 the confusion of moving to the place, and in the midst of 
 the many exciting incidents that had doubtless attended 
 their settling down among the Makololo, the little packets 
 of medicine had either been neglected or entirely over- 
 looked. On reaching Linyanti he found that his surmises 
 were correct. 
 
 At Sesheke the travelers came upon Sekeletu, who had 
 recently taken up his residence there. Having been seized 
 by that fearful disease, leprosy, he had withdrawn himself 
 from the sight of his people, and was now lying in a cov- 
 ered wagon surrounded by a high wall of reeds. He would 
 allow no one to approach him save a female doctor of the 
 Manyeti tribe, who professed to have an infallible cure for 
 the dread malady. So far, however, she had made little, if 
 any, headway. Poor Sekeletu was indeed a pitiful-looking 
 object. Tears filled Livingstone’s eyes as he gazed upon 
 him. Sekeletu’s joy on once more beholding his much- 
 loved father was pathetic to see, especially as he was 
 weighed down by the knowledge that he must not touch 
 him. Livingstone dismissed the female doctor and installed 
 
334 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 himself as Sekeletu’s physician. Under his skillful treat- 
 ment, combined with that of Dr. Kirke, Sekeletu entirely re- 
 covered. But his once proud spirit was broken: he did not 
 appear like the same man. Besides, during Livingstone’s ab- 
 sence he had been very imprudent: he had allowed himself 
 to be drawn into war with several of the neighboring chiefs. 
 Having ro martial skill like that of his father, he had been 
 defeated every time. Believing his powers on the wane, 
 many of his people had deserted him. Others, he had ey- 
 ery reason to believe, were at this time forming a plot 
 against him. Indeed, as Livingstone feared, the glory of 
 the Makololo was fast passing away. It wrung his heart to 
 see thus early the apparent signs of inevitable decay on 
 a people whom he had hoped to redeem and to render one 
 of the most powerful, useful, and prosperous tribes in the 
 whole Continent. These painful forebodings were now re- 
 alized. In 1864 Sekeletu died; then ensued a fierce strug- 
 gle for the chieftainship, during which the outside chiefs, 
 seeing how the people were divided against each other, 
 deemed it a decisive moment for striking their own blows. 
 Thus the broad, beautiful, and smiling country which Se- 
 bituane had conquered, and in which he had reigned as a 
 king over his kingdom, became almost as a desolate wil- 
 derness, while the once proud race was scattered like chaff 
 before the wind. 
 
 As soon as the people learned that Livingstone was at 
 Sesheke they flocked in great crowds to hear him. If he 
 had ever doubted their love and loyalty, he had ample 
 proof of it now. He remained among them several weeks, 
 preaching and teaching, and left at last with his heart filled 
 with the grave apprehensions we have noted. 
 
 Many striking incidents marked the journey back to Tete, 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 335 
 
 but we relate only two of them. At the Mburuma Rapids 
 the travelers had an eloquent proof of the bravery and de- 
 votion of the Makololo. While going over the most dan- 
 gerous of the rapids, the two canoes almost simultaneously 
 lurched and filled with water. They were in the greatest 
 danger of being immediately swamped, in which event all 
 the men would surely have perished. But without a mo- 
 ment’s hesitation the four Makololos leaped from the canoes 
 into the water, two out of each; and they ordered a Batoka 
 man to do the same, declaring that “the white men must 
 be saved at all hazards.” “ But I cannot swim,” remon- 
 strated the Batoka. “Jump out, then, and hold on to the 
 canoe,” again ordered the Makololo. He dared not longer 
 hesitate. Swimming along-side the canoes, the Makololo 
 successfully guided them over the rapids, though at the 
 greatest danger to themselves. Once on the other side, they 
 ran the canoes to the shore, and began to bail them out as 
 coolly and as calmly as though nothing unusual had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 Dr. Kirke and Charles Livingstone were struck with 
 intense admiration for this daring act, and were loud in 
 their praise; but the Makololo seemed to value far more 
 than any thing else the warm clasp of the hand and the 
 expressive glance of the eye given them by Livingstone, 
 for whose sake they would gladly have faced death many 
 times over. 
 
 In one of the Kebrabasa Rapids the canoe which bore 
 Dr. Kirke, Charles Livingstone, and two of the Makololo 
 men was suddenly swamped. Each had to swim for his 
 life, and it was with the utmost difficulty that they finally 
 reached the shore. Greatly to the Doctor’s regret, he found 
 that he had lost by this catastrophe a chronometer, a ba 
 
336 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 rometer, and the many drawings and notes made during the 
 journey. 
 
 On the 23d of November the explorers found themselves 
 safe at Tete, after an absence of a little over six months. 
 Early in December they again left Tete. This time they 
 were bound for the Kongone entrance, where they expected 
 to meet the “ Pioneer,” the new steamer sent for their use 
 by the British Government. They took along with them 
 the “ Ma-Robert,” which they intended to leave at ‘this 
 point until she could be carried away. But alas! the days 
 of “the asthmatic eld lady” were numbered. On the 21st 
 of December she grounded on a sand-bank, where she had 
 to be abandoned. It became necessary to make the rest 
 of the journey on foot, and it was in sore straits that 
 the plucky little band arrived at the mouth of the river 
 on the 4th of January, 1861, Twenty-seven days after- 
 ward, on the 31st of January, the new steamer “ Pioneer” 
 was anchored outside the bar. As the weather was very 
 rough, she did not venture in until February 4th. A few 
 days later two of Her Majesty’s cruisers arrived, bringing, 
 among other passengers, Bishop McKenzie and assistants, 
 who were then on their way to organize the long talked-of 
 mission station in the valley of the Shire. 
 
 With the “Pioneer” cathe orders to Livingstone from 
 the Government to proceed at once to the mouth of the Ro- 
 vuma River, and there begin an exploration of it. Living- 
 stone had long had his eyes upon this river. He believed 
 that through it he might find a more uninterrupted and 
 promising water-route from the coast to Lake Nyassa than 
 that through the Shire and Zambesi. It was upon such in- 
 timations made to the Government that they had sent him 
 ‘lirections to sail for the mouth of the Rovuma, The Bish- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 337 
 
 op and his assistants accompanied Livingstone on this trip. 
 If they could reach their destination through the Rovuma 
 and Lake Nyassa, so much the better. If they could not, 
 then they could return and take the route by the Zambesi 
 and Shire. 
 
 On the 25th day of February the mouth of the Rovuma 
 was reached. The visitors found there a magnificent nat- 
 ural harbor and bay. They steamed up the mouth with 
 very little difficulty, but shortly after entering the stream 
 found the bed so low that they were soon compelled to re- 
 turn, fearing that if they did not do so they would run 
 aground and have to remain there until the rains came. 
 
 Returning to the Kongone, they sailed on that tributary . 
 up into the Zambesi, and thence to the Shire. Although 
 the latter river was very deep, they nevertheless had great 
 difficulty in getting over some places. Again a mistake 
 had been made—this time in sending a steamer that drew 
 fully five feet of water. This rendered the vessel utterly 
 unfit for the navigation of many of the shallower streams. 
 
 On arriving at the town of his old friend Chibisa, Liv- 
 ingstone was distressed to learn that a fierce war was rag- 
 ing in the country of the Manganja, the very people among 
 whom the Bishop and his assistants were going to labor. 
 They learned that this war had grown out of the horrid slave 
 traffic, which had increased to an alarming extent since 
 Livingstone’s last visit. Chibisa also informed them that a 
 arge slave party would pass through his village the follow- 
 \ng morning on its way down to the coast. The warm blood 
 of the generous and impetuous McKenzie was fired by this 
 information. ‘Shall we not interfere?” he asked Living- 
 stone quickly. Livingstone’s own heart was bleeding over 
 the woes of these poor oppressed creatures. He felt that he 
 
 22 
 
338 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 would gladly give his life to right their wrongs. But if he 
 interfered in this instance, would it have the effect desired? 
 Would it frighten the dread slave-masters into a future 
 abandonment of this section? or would it only precipitate 
 matters, and thus draw him and his friends into hostile col- 
 lision not only with the traders themselves but with the 
 slave-dealing tribes? This was a catastrophe that Living- 
 stone had all along dreaded, and of which he had hitherto 
 steered clear. But in this case the calls of humanity were 
 especially pressing. Could he stand by inactive and wit- 
 ness such a sight as he would witness on the morrow? Had 
 not he and his friends the balance of power in their hands, 
 * since there was quite a little army of them, whereas the 
 slave-traders were likely to number only two or three, with 
 perhaps a dozen drivers? Besides, Chibisa’s people were 
 bitterly opposed to the traffic, and would only need a word 
 from Livingstone to gain them as allies. Hitherto, when 
 he had met the long procession of slaves, he had either been 
 in a hostile country or with but little assistance at hand. 
 Now every thing was different. What should he do? 
 While Livingstone was thus deliberating the band of slaves 
 arrived. Before he could reach a decision the cowardice of 
 the drivers had thrown every thing into the hands of the 
 explorers, and there was no longer a call for hesitancy. The 
 ‘scene is thus described : . 
 
 “A long line of manacled men and women made their ap- 
 pearance. The black drivers, armed with muskets and be- 
 decked with various articles of finery, marched jauntily in 
 the front, middle, and rear of the line, some of them blow- 
 ing exulting notes out of long tin horns. They seemed. to 
 feel that they were doing a very noble thing, and might 
 proudly march with an air of triumph. But the instant 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 339 
 
 the fellows caught a glimpse of the English, they darted off 
 like mad into the forest; so fast, indeed, that we caught but 
 a glimpse of their red caps and of their heels. The chief 
 of the party alone remained; and he, from being in front, 
 had his hand tightly clasped by a Makololo. He proved to 
 be a well-known slave of the late commandant at Tete, and 
 for some time our own attendant while there. On asking 
 him how he obtained these captives, he replied he had 
 bought them; but on our inquiring of the people themselves 
 all save four said they had been captured in war. While 
 this inquiry was going on he bolted too. 
 
 “The captives knelt down, and, in the way of expressing 
 thanks, clapped their hands with great energy. They were 
 thus left entirely in our hands, and knives were soon at 
 work cutting women and children loose. It was more dif- 
 ficult to cut the men adrift, as each had his neck in the fork 
 of a stout stick, six or seven feet long, and kept by an iron 
 rod, which was riveted at both ends across the throat. With 
 a saw, luckily in the Bishop’s baggage, one by one the men 
 were sawed out into freedom. The women, on being told 
 to take the meal they were carrying and cook breakfast for 
 themselves and the children, seemed to consider the news 
 too good to be true, but after a little coaxing went at it 
 with alacrity, and made a capital fire by which to boil their 
 pots with the slave sticks and bonds—their old acquaint- 
 ances through many a sad night and weary day. 
 
 “Many were mere children, about four years of age and 
 under. One little boy, with the simplicity of childhood, 
 said to our men: ‘ The others tied and starved us; you cut 
 the ropes, and tell us to eat. What sort of people are you? 
 Where do you come from?’ Two of the women had been 
 shot the day before for attempting to untie the thongs. . . 
 
340 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 One woman had her infant’s brains knocked out because 
 she could not carry her load and it; and a man was dis- 
 patched with an ax because he had broken down with fa- 
 tigue.” 
 
 The number of the unhappy creatures thus liberated by 
 Livingstone and his friends was eighty-four. When they 
 were told that they might go where they pleased or remain 
 with the mission about to be started, they quickly chose the 
 latter, no doubt feeling that they would be much safer near 
 those who had proved to be their benefactors. 
 
 After a conference with his party, Livingstone decided 
 that it might be advisable to go on a friendly visit to the 
 chief of the Ajana, the powerful and warlike tribe that was 
 then so cruelly oppressing the Manganja. It would cer- 
 tainly be prudent to endeavor to establish peaceful rela- 
 tions between the two tribes before Bishop McKenzie took 
 up his abode with the Manganja. Unfortunately for this 
 movement, Chibisa accompanied the party. As he was 
 known to be the friend and champion of the Manganja, 
 and a warrior of considerable renown, it is not to be won- 
 dered at that his presence should have been misconstrued. 
 The road along which their route lay presented a dreadful 
 aspect. Many villages were in ashes, others were still burn- 
 ing, while the wailing of the homeless women and children 
 was heart-rending to hear. Finally they came in sight of the 
 village they were seeking. Just before reaching this point 
 the whole party had engaged in fervent prayer, led by the 
 Bishop. They then bravely advanced, politely requesting a 
 parley. Doubtless this might have been granted them but 
 for an unfortunate diversion that occurred at the moment. 
 Some of the poor captive Manganja, seeing Chibisa, shouted 
 with joy: “Our Chibisa is come! Our Chibisa, our great 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 341 
 
 warrior, is come!” The instant these cries fell upon their 
 ears the Ajana warriors started up, snatched at their weap- 
 ons, and rushed at the party, crying, “ War! war! war!” 
 Following close upon this dreadful cry came a shower of 
 poisoned arrows. Fortunately none of the party were hurt. 
 Livingstone tried to call out to them to command attention, 
 declaring that they were all friends, but it was impossible 
 for his voice to be heard above the din. The party was 
 now compelled to fire upon the Ajana in self-defense. This 
 was the first time in all his African experience that Living- 
 stone had been forced to resort to such measures, and it 
 troubled his mind greatly. Never, in all the perilous en- 
 counters with hostile bands, had one shot been fired, either 
 by himself or by his men; never had one life been taken by 
 their hands. Nay, he might go farther still, and say never 
 had one drop of blood been spilled by them. What a rec- 
 ord for a man who had twice passed directly through the 
 heart of the most purely savage country on the face of the 
 globe! So little was Livingstone expecting such an emer- 
 gency that he had failed to arm himself with even a pistol, 
 and one had now to be forced into his hands. Not that he 
 was a coward, and feared to use the weapon—to think of 
 ealling this splendid man a coward!—but that he was bit- 
 terly averse to shedding human blood even under provoca- 
 tion. 
 
 The encounter was hot and serious, but finally the Ajana 
 were driven off. It was with a sad heart that Livingstone 
 returned to Chibisa’s village. Many gloomy forebodings 
 filled his mind, and these increased as he took his departure 
 for Tete, leaving the Bishop and his assistants established 
 in their mission. The errand of peace had ended in one of 
 war. What serious consequences might not now result? 
 
iM 
 (342) 
 
 AFRICA, 
 
 A MISSIONARY STATION IN 
 
 ee 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 343 
 
 The Ajana were dangerous and desperate, and the new- 
 comers had made enemies of them instead of friends—a 
 state of affairs altogether repugnant to one of Livingstone’s 
 nature. His last words to the Bishop were of counsel, that 
 he should be careful and take no further part in attempting 
 to adjust the wrongs of the Manganja, but do all he could 
 to establish peaceful relations between the two tribes. Alas 
 that the kindly and impulsive man did not act in accord- 
 ance with this advice! 
 
 On the last day of January, 1862, Livingstone was again 
 at the little station at the mouth of the Kongone, where he 
 had the happiness of greeting his wife, who had just arrived 
 by Her Majesty’s ship “ Gorgon.” With Mrs. Livingstone 
 eame Miss McKenzie (the Bishop’s sister) and the wives of 
 two of the other missionaries, who had come out to rejoin 
 their dear ones in the valley of the Shire. The “Gorgon” 
 had also brought along the sections of the new brig, the 
 “Lady Nyassa,” which was Livingstone’s own purchase, 
 and which he designed principally for navigation on the 
 Shire—hence the name. 
 
 While Livingstone was superintending the putting to- 
 gether of the “ Lady Nyassa,” Capt. Wilson of the “ Gor- 
 gon,” accompanied by Dr. Kirke and several of the ship’s 
 crew, went on with the ladies who had come out to join the 
 mission. At Tete they received news of the calamity that 
 had overwhelmed the little mission and culminated in the 
 death of the Bishop and three of his assistants. The ladies 
 were completely overcome. No course was left them now 
 but to return to the country from which they had departed 
 only a few weeks before, filled with hopeful anticipations. 
 
 Finding it difficult to put the “ Lady Nyassa” together 
 at the mouth of the river, Livingstone determined to tow 
 
344 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 the sections up as far as Shupanga by means of the “ Pio: 
 neer.” Soon after reaching this point he too learned of the 
 sad fate of the mission. The distress and grief that filled 
 his tender, sympathetic heart may well be imagined. Speak. 
 ing of his feelings a short time afterward, he says: “ This 
 blow is quite bewildering; but in this, as in every thing else, 
 we must bow to the will of Him who doeth all things well.” 
 Alas! he little dreamed of the blow that was soon to fall 
 many times more crushingly upon him. 
 
 Through circumstances that it was impossible for him to 
 control, Livingstone was compelled to remain at Shupanga 
 much longer than he had expected. While a moderately 
 healthy spot during some seasons of the year, Shupanga was 
 also an exceedingly unhealthy place at other seasons. This 
 was especially the case during the prevalence of the fever 
 scourge, by which it was regularly visited once a year. 
 
 As the fever period began to approach Livingstone grew 
 more and more apprehensive, chiefly on his wife’s account. 
 Still, he hoped to the last that he would be enabled to get 
 off before any thing serious occurred. But alas! he did not. 
 On the 21st of April Mrs. Livingstone was taken ill. The 
 symptoms were not alarming at first, and, though very un- 
 easy in regard to her, Livingstone believed that it was only 
 an ordinary sickness. Instead of changing for the better, 
 however, the symptoms grew more threatening, In six 
 days from her attack she was delirious and raging with 
 fever. Livingstone could deceive himself no longer—his 
 wife’s condition was critical. He tried to prepare himself 
 for what might happen, but it had all come upon him so 
 suddenly, so unexpectedly, that it completely unmanned 
 him. In another day he knew that all hope was at an end 
 —that the blow must fall, that even now the Omnipotent 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 345 
 
 Arm was raised to strike it. But it was too much even for 
 him, with all his courage and with all his faith. When the 
 end came he who had faced death in so many forms, who 
 had stood unawed before dangers the most terrifying, broke 
 down and wept like a little child. Can we wonder at this 
 when we recall the heart of him who had been thus be- 
 reaved—its deep and abiding possibilities of tender and 
 devoted love? ‘It is the first stroke I have suffered,” he 
 says, in pouring the anguish of his stricken soul out upon 
 the senseless pages of his journal, “and quite takes away 
 my strength. I wept over her who well deserves many 
 tears. I loved her when I married her, and the longer I 
 lived with her I loved her the more. God pity the poor 
 children, who were all tenderly attached to her; and I am 
 left alone in the world by one whom I felt to be a part of 
 myself. I hope it may, by divine grace, lead me to realize 
 heaven 2s my home, and that she has but preceded me in 
 the journey. O my Mary, my Mary! how often we have 
 longed for a quiet home, since you and I were cast adrift 
 at Kolobeng! Surely the removal by a kind Father who 
 knoweth our frame means that he rewarded you by taking 
 you to the best home—the eternal one in heaven.” He had 
 lost her, the wife of his youth, the companion of his matur- 
 er years, the sharer of his joys and his sorrows. The strong- 
 est bond that held him to earth had been severed; the gold- 
 en links of the chain that had so long bound his heart a 
 willing captive were rent asunder. His Mary was dead— 
 she whose gentle smile had ever greeted him, even amidst 
 the most harassing circumstances; she whose tender lips 
 had never once reproached him for the hardships of the 
 way; she who had ever been his help and comfort, his 
 sweet fortress of refuge in a wilderness of sorrow, his 
 
346 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 cheery fellow-traveler through the earthly pilgrimage. Yes, 
 she was gone, and he was left to tread the weary way 
 alone. It is no wonder that in the first outburst of grief 
 he should have exclaimed, “ Now for the first time in my 
 life I am willing to die! Take me too, O God.” Under 
 the large baobab-tree at Shupanga, which has since become 
 so inseparably associated with memories of her, and which 
 has been made the theme of more than one poet’s verse, 
 lies all that is mortal of Mary Moffat Livingstone—a mis- 
 sionary’s daughter, a missionary’s wife. 
 
 This mighty tree under which Mrs. Livingstone lies buried 
 is full sixty feet in circumference. It has been mentioned 
 in the works of several explorers as being of an unusually 
 large size even in that country of large trees. There were 
 several of these baobab-trees around Shupanga, though they 
 are found more abundantly in those sections just south of 
 the Sahara. The tree is not so much noted for its height 
 as for its breadth. It seldom reaches a distance of over 
 one hundred feet. On account of its great strength and 
 duiability—some of them are said to live more than a 
 thousand years—the natives often build their huts within 
 the branches, reaching them by means of a cunningly con- 
 trived ladder. The principal object, however, in building 
 the huts in the tops of these trees is that it gives the occu- 
 pant security against the deadly attacks of lions, leopards, 
 and other dangerous wild beasts. 
 
 Livingstone could not be idle, even in the midst of this 
 crushing sorrow. With the last tears shed upon his wife’s 
 grave, when he was in alt probability never to look on it 
 again, he arose reconsecrated to the work before him. In 
 a week after her death he was again at his post, helping 
 with his own hands to put the “ Lady Nyassa” together. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 347 
 
 BAOBAB-TREE AND NATIVE HUT. 
 
 Livingstone and his companions now started on another 
 exploration of the Rovuma. This time they succeeded in 
 reaching a point some one hundred and fifty miles from its 
 mouth. Here they were stopped by cataracts. The people 
 in the neighborhood of these cataracts were peaceable and 
 
348 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 industrious, and, with few exceptions, received the travel- 
 ers in a friendly manner. They were called the Makoa, 
 and were known by a cicatrice on the brow in the form of 
 a crescent, with the horns pointing downward. 
 
 This voyage up the Rovuma was almost as disappointing 
 as the first had been. Although Livingstone succeeded in 
 getting more than a hundred miles farther, he had not 
 found that uninterrupted water-route from the sea to Lake 
 Nyassa which he had hoped to find. Perhaps, after all, it 
 would be better to seek to establish the course by way of 
 the Zambesi and the Shire. With this object in view, Liy- 
 ingstone steamed back to the Kongone entrance of the Zam- 
 besi, and thence to the Shire. This was in the beginning 
 of 1863. 
 
 On moving up the Shire Livingstone found a most ap- 
 palling state of affairs. His recent wonderful discoveries in 
 the valley of the Shire, as communicated by him to the Goy- 
 ernment, had produced an outside effect which he had not 
 anticipated. They had served to stimulate the desires and 
 kindle into renewed vigor the activity of the Portuguese 
 slave-traders, who had already begun to flock in great 
 crowds to this beautiful and promising region. Happy 
 villages had been depopulated; smiling plains had become 
 the scenes of wretchedness and woe; husbands had been 
 torn from wives, wives from husbands, and children from 
 their mothers’ arms; while long lines of miserable, heart- 
 broken creatures, fastened together with chain or fork, 
 were daily urged along like cattle before the lash of their 
 cruel drivers. The chief instigator of all this horrible work 
 was Mariano, the most cruel of all the Portuguese slave- 
 agents. He not only laid plans for the capture of slaves, 
 and had them seized and carried off by his agents when- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 349 
 
 ever and wherever they could get their hands upon them, 
 but he also stirred up one tribe against another until war 
 in its most horrible form ensued. Villages were set on fire, 
 and the inhabitants, fleeing for their lives, met a fate far 
 more dreadful than death by falling into the hands of the 
 traders. The ruthless torch was applied to the store-house 
 as well as to the home; and all their provisions being de- 
 stroyed, famine resulted. From this cause alone hundreds 
 of the villagers perished. The revolting picture that greet- 
 ed Livingstone’s eyes on his ascent into the valley of the 
 Shire is thus drawn by his own hand: “A little more than 
 twelve months before the valley of the Shire was populous 
 with peaceful and contented tribes; now the country was 
 all but a desert, the very air polluted by the putrid car- 
 easses of the slain, which lay rotting on the plains, and 
 floated in the waters of the river in such numbers as to 
 clog the paddles of the steamer. Once they saw a croco- 
 dile make a rush at the carcass of a boy, and shake it as a 
 terrier-dog shakes a rat, while others rushed to share in the 
 meal, and quickly devoured it. The miserable inhabitants 
 who had managed to avoid being slain or carried off into 
 captivity were collecting insects, plants, and wild fruits— 
 any thing, in short, that would stave off starvation—in the 
 neighborhood of the villages where they had formerly en- 
 joyed peace and plenty. They were entirely naked, save 
 for the palm-leaf aprons they wore, as every thing of any 
 value had been carried off by the slave-stealers. The sight 
 of hundreds of putrid dead bodies and bleached skeletons 
 was not half so painful as the groups of women and chil- 
 dren who were seen sitting amidst the ruins of their former 
 dwellings, with their chastly, famine-stricken faces, and dull, 
 dead eyes. These made up such a tale of woe and misery, 
 
350 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. | 
 
 that those who were dead might be deemed fortunate in 
 comparison with the survivors, who instinctively clung to 
 the devastated spot they had once called home, and those 
 who had been led into life-long captivity.” 
 
 This beast of slavery was indeed a monster of iniquity so 
 terrible, so strong that even Livingstone’s determined hands 
 could not reach about its throat to strangle it. But as long 
 as there was breath in his body he would fight the monster 
 —yea, fight it to the death. 
 
 After spending several months in and around the Nyassa 
 country, during which he made a note of many interesting 
 points to be used on future explorations, Doctor Living- 
 stone once more returned to England, 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 LIVINGSTONE AGAIN IN ENGLAND—DEATH OF HIS MOTHER— 
 “FEAR GOD, AND WORK HARD”—HIS IMPRESSIONS IN REGARD 
 TO THE NILE SOURCES—THE RETURN TO AFRICA—THE START 
 FOR THE INTERIOR—BAD CONDUCT OF THE MEN—THE WORLD 
 LOSES SIGHT OF HIM—REPORTED DEATH—FEARS AND DOUBTS 
 —MR. YOUNG GOES IN SEARCH OF HIM—NEWS OF HIS SAFETY 
 —LETTERS— THE DISPATCHES FROM BANGWEOLO— ANOTHER 
 PERIOD OF SILENCE AND SUSPENSE—STANLEY TO THE RESCUE. 
 
 N the 23d day of July, 1864, Livingstone reached 
 > England; but he left it again on the 14th day of 
 August, 1865. One sad event of this sojourn in England 
 was the death of his mother, which ocurred on the 18th of 
 June, 1865. The account below is taken from Livingstone’s 
 journal: 
 
 “Monday, June 19th—A telegram came, saying that 
 mother had died the day before. I started at once for 
 Scotland. No change was observed till within an hour 
 and a half of her departure. Seeing the end was near, 
 sister Agnes said, ‘The Saviour has come for you, mother. 
 Can you “lippen” yourself to him?’ She replied, ‘O yes.’ 
 Little Anna Mary was held up to her. She gave her the 
 last look, and said, ‘ Bonnie wee lassie,’ gave a few long in 
 spirations, and all was still, with a look of reverence on her 
 countenance. She had wished William Logan, a good 
 Christian man, to lay her head in the grave, if I were not 
 there. When going away in 1858. she said that she would 
 
 have liked one of her laddies to lay her head in the grave 
 (351) 
 
352 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 - It so happened that I was there to pay the last tribute to a 
 dear, good mother.” 
 
 She had been a noble mother indeed, a mother in Israel ; 
 and most precious was the memory left to her children. 
 
 One of the very last things we find Livingstone doing in 
 his own loved Scotland was attending the exercises of a 
 school where his two youngest children were entered as 
 pupils, and seeing them take prizes. He made a little talk 
 to the children of the school, after much persuasion, in 
 which he gave to them, among other things, this precept, 
 begging them to make it the rule of their daily lives: “Fear 
 God, and work hard.” How eminently fitted he was to give 
 this counsel—he who had made these same words the grand 
 key-note of his own life! 
 
 When Dr. Livingstone arrived in England the recent 
 discoveries of Capt. Speke and Major Grant were the theme 
 of almost every tongue. These were subsequently added to 
 by the achievements of Capt. Baker, so that the people 
 could talk about little else than the finding of the true 
 sources of the Nile—the settling of the question that had 
 perplexed the world for ages. But somehow, while he had 
 the deepest respect for all these gentlemen, and sincerely 
 joined his countrymen in praise of their brave exploits, 
 Livingstone felt that there must be an error somewhere. 
 He did not believe that the head-waters of the Nile were 
 so far north as Speke, Grant, and Baker had placed them, 
 but was of the impression that they lay farther south, prob 
 ably in one of the many great lakes which, during his las 
 explorations in Africa, he had heard of as lying betweei 
 the Nyassa and the Victoria Nyanza. Livingstone haa 
 been told so much concerning a lake called Tanganyika 
 that his curiosity to see it was great. He could not get the 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 393 
 
 impression out of his mind that about this lake, should he 
 ever succeed in reaching it, he would discover something of 
 interest in regard to the Nile sources. One principal ob- 
 ject of his return to Africa, then, was the desire to find this 
 Jake, if possible. An additional strong motive was the 
 anxiety to settle the vexed question of the water-shed 
 of that portion of Africa. Upon this depended to a great. 
 extent the final clearing up of the Nile mystery; for Liy- 
 ingstone looked upon it as still a mystery in a certain sense, 
 in spite of what Grant, Speke, and Baker had discovered. 
 But doubtless the strongest motive of all—stronger, since 
 it lay closer to his heart than either of the others—was the 
 desire to do further missionary work among the yet unen- 
 lightened inhabitants of the Dark Continent. He had 
 never quite forgiven himself for letting the missionary 
 merge so far into the explorer as to almost lose his iden- 
 tity. Still, it had all been done with an eye single to the 
 good of the wretched creatures whose interests were so 
 closely allied to his own. We have seen why he was so 
 anxious to open up this country to commerce, and how he 
 had hoped and believed from the first that this would be 
 the initial step in the advance of Christian missions. This 
 idea had never left him, and was as strong with him now 
 as when first formed in his mind; and this was why he had 
 seemingly given up his mission work to engage in that of 
 an explorer. He now determined, however, to combine 
 both as much as possible. 
 
 Livingstone went first to Paris, thence to Bombay, where 
 he remained some little time perfecting arrangements, and 
 then took passage direct to Zanzibar, the principal landing- 
 place of most explorers starting into the interior, At Bom- 
 bay he was joined by seven Zambesi men whom he had left 
 
 23 
 
354 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 there on his way to England for the purpose of receiving 
 instruction at the Government schools; also by two Shire 
 valley boys, who had been connected with the mission of 
 the lamented Bishop McKenzie, and who had been in Bom- 
 bay for some time with the same object of the Zambesi men. 
 Livingstone was well pleased to find that these two lads had 
 not only learned to read but also to write, and that they 
 had conducted themselves well during the entire school 
 course. They were exceedingly anxious to be baptized into 
 the English Church before their return to Africa. Feeling 
 assured of their sincerity, Livingstone saw that the sacred 
 rite was administered before their departure. Besides these, 
 Livingstone added to his exploring party twelve Sepoys 
 from Bombay, several Suahila lads from the Nassick School 
 at Bombay, nine men from Johanna (one of the Comoro Isl- 
 ands), and seven liberated slaves. The Johanna men were 
 headed by a man named Musa, of whom we shall hear very 
 unpleasantly after awhile. The Sepoys were to act princi- 
 pally as guards, and for this purpose had been armed with 
 Enfield rifles. To aid m the work of transporting the bag- 
 gage and goods of the party, they had with them six cam- 
 els, twelve buffaloes and a calf, two mules, and four don- 
 keys. Ten bales of cloth and two bags of beads were also 
 taken along to serve as currency, while several boxes of in- 
 struments, a box of medicines, and many other useful arti- 
 cles, completed the outfit. The question naturally arises, 
 “What man but Livingstone would have encumbered him- 
 self with such baggage and such a menagerie-like array of 
 animals, and for what conceivable purpose except for the 
 benefit of Africa?” No other one, certainly. These tame 
 buffaloes of India were taken that he might try whether or 
 not, like the wild buffaloes of the African plains, they would 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 355 
 
 resist the bite of the deadly tsetse fly. For the same rea- 
 son the camels were carried along. The mules and don- 
 keys would have to take their chances. The latter he had 
 seen get through very well on a previous occasion. 
 
 The two deadliest native foes to the civilization of Africa, 
 Livingstone knew only too well, were the fever and the tse- 
 tse fly. Could he succeed in counteracting their fateful in- 
 fluence, even in a small part, no expense or trouble within 
 his power would be spared. He had already found in the 
 African forests a remedy that had more than once proved ef- 
 fective against the first dread evil. Might he not, therefore, 
 hope to find in the camels and buffaloes unassailable substi- 
 tutes for the oxen that so readily succumbed to the fatal tse- 
 tse bite? Alas! he was not to know. Before leaving Zan- 
 zibar he had the misfortune, from one cause and another, to 
 lose nine of his buffaloes; and before he had proceeded far 
 on his journey the remaining buffaloes and the camels had 
 perished through the cruelty of some of the men who ac- 
 companied him. 
 
 At Zanzibar Livingstone was joined by two Shupanga 
 men, Susi and Amoda; also by two Waiyau lads, Wikatani 
 and Chuma. The Shupanga men had been wood-cutters 
 for the “ Pioneer,” the Waiyau lads among the slaves res- 
 cued in 1861. They were all greatly attached to Living- 
 stone, especially the faithful Susi, whose name from this 
 time on is closely associated with Livingstone’s, and who 
 by one brave, beautiful deed of devotion has won the praise 
 and admiration of the whole civilized world. 
 
 Livingstone left Zanzibar on the 19th of March for the 
 mouth of the Rovuma River. He found it very much 
 changed since his last visit; so much so, in fact, that he 
 had to make a landing twenty-five miles above, and march 
 
356 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 overland to the banks of the river, regaining them at a point 
 some miles from the sea. Here the expedition took a di- 
 rect course down the river toward the Nyassa. It was a 
 most fatiguing and trying march through an unfavorable 
 country. Livingstone says of it: “The toil was fitted to 
 wear out the strongest of my men.” As to these men, they 
 were no sooner started than they began to prove how tri- 
 fling and troublesome they really were, especially the Se- 
 poys and Johanna men. The Sepoys treated the animals 
 with such cruelty that they were soon all dead. The Jo- 
 hanna men proved ‘to be great thieves. They not only 
 stole from the bales of goods and the beads, to trade with 
 the natives for such articles as their covetous souls desired, 
 but they also stole the provisions of the little party as soon 
 as they were procured. Altogether it was the very worst 
 lot of men into whose hands Livingstone had ever fallen. 
 How many times he longed for his loyal and brave Mako- 
 lolo! Finally, after a four months’ trial, Livingstone dis- 
 missed some of the worst of the Sepoys and Johanna men, 
 and sent them back to the coast. 
 
 While passing through the Waiyau country the Waiyau 
 boys also deserted, under the pretense of having found their 
 relatives. The little band was now so much reduced that 
 when they reached Lake Nyassa, on the 8th of August, 
 only the Nassick boys, the Shupanga men, two or three of 
 the liberated slaves, and four of the Johanna men were left. 
 Livingstone remained some little time at the lake, writing 
 up his journals, and making both geographical and lunar 
 observations. On trying to get across the lake to its west- 
 ern boundary, in order to pursue his march in search of 
 lakes Bangweolo and Tanganyika, Livingstone found that 
 he could for no consideration procure a dhow, the kind of 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 357 
 
 boat used on the lake, as they were all owned by the slave- 
 traders, who were determined he should not cross if they 
 could help it. But the intrepid man resolved to make the 
 journey on foot around the southern end of the lake, and 
 thus reach the western border by way of the land. It was 
 a desperate venture, and no one but Livingstone would have 
 undertaken it, with his little band reduced to a mere hand- 
 ful of men, and aimost destitute of supplies of any kind. In 
 describing the experiences of the first stages of the journey, 
 in a letter to his son, under date of August 28th, Living- 
 stone says: ‘ Food was not to be had for love or money. 
 Our finest cloths only brought miserable morsels of the 
 common grain. I trudged it the whole way, and having 
 no animal food save what turtle-doves and guinea-fowls we 
 occasionally shot, I became like one of Pharaoh’s lean kine.” 
 
 Reaching the point at the southern end of the lake where 
 the Shire issues from it, Livingstone was overcome by sad 
 and painful reflections. He thought of the many expedi- 
 tions he had made up this river; of the little mission sta- 
 tion so hopefully planted in the central valley ; of the death 
 of the lamented McKenzie; and last, but far from being 
 the least, the departure from earth to heaven of his beloved 
 wife, and of her grave so far away under the shadow of the 
 stately baobab-tree. Then came thoughts of the unhappy 
 ending of the mission work at Linyanti. O how discour- 
 aging seemed every thing im connection with the effort to 
 plant mission stations in this heathen land! Had God 
 failed to hear the cries of his people? Were these be- 
 nighted souls to go on living in the pall-like darkness that 
 shut out from their view every glimpse, every hope of the 
 precious truths beyond? Ah, surely not. God had some 
 good, some wise plan in it all. Livingstone would never 
 
858 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 lose faith that such was the case, and would steadfastly be- 
 lieve to the last that in his own time and in his own way 
 God would send the answer to so many earnest, fervent 
 prayers. O could he have lived ten years longer, to see 
 how gloriously this thing came about! If his longing eyes 
 could have looked upon the brave mission once more planted 
 in the valley of the Shire under the control of the noble 
 Bishop Steere! If he could have seen how grandly the 
 work went forward—the work of “training the poor na- 
 tives in the arts of civilization, rearing Christian house- 
 holds among them, and proclaiming the blessed gospel of 
 the God of love.” 
 
 Livingstone strenuously aimed at two things on this jour- 
 ney around the southern end of the lake. One was to spread 
 abroad the great truths of Christianity, and the other to 
 awaken in the consciences of this degraded people a hor- 
 ror of the atrocious slave-trade. At every opportunity he 
 stopped to preach and to teach among them. 
 
 Early in September they arrived at the town of Maren- 
 ga, at the south-western corner of the lake. Here Living- 
 stone was deserted by Musa and the remaining Johanna 
 men, who left him with only a half-dozen Nassick boys and 
 the two Shupanga men. Musa pretended to be greatly 
 frightened at the intelligence brought to Marenga’s village 
 by an Arab slave-trader, that all the country in the direc- 
 tion in which Livingstone’s little party were heading was 
 filled with dangerous and warlike Mazitu, the most blood- 
 thirsty of the tribes in that section. In vain Marenga said 
 to the men that the situation could not be half so bad as 
 pictured, since he and his people had ‘had no intimation of 
 it; in vain Livingstone assured them that he intended giv- 
 ing the Mazitu as wide a berth as possible. They had long 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. oud 
 
 wanted an excuse for leaving him and going back to the 
 coast; besides, they were very cowardly, and they did iear 
 an encounter with the Mazitu, though not in the degree 
 they pretended. So in the time of his greatest need of 
 them they left him almost alone, to fight his way as best he 
 could through the inhospitable country beyond. Not only 
 this, but they stole nearly every thing of any value that re- 
 mained to him, even some of his instruments, the greater 
 part of his stock of medicines, and all the cloth and beads 
 that were left. He was now reduced to most desperate 
 straits, and but for the kindness of some of the tribes would 
 surely have perished. 
 
 In the meantime, Musa and the Johanna men, after con- 
 siderable delay, had succeeded in reaching the coast. And 
 now a most startling report began traversing the whole civ- 
 ilized globe—a report that brought grief and consternation 
 to the hearts of millions of admiring and sympathetic peo- 
 ple. Dr. Livingstone, the devoted Christian missionary 
 and fearless explorer, had been murdered by hostile tribes 
 in the very heart of Africa! The news of this startling ca- 
 lamity had been brought to Zanzibar by one Musa and his 
 companions, who had been of Livingstone’s party ever since 
 its departure for the interior, and who had also been with 
 the missionary at the time of the reported murder, and there- 
 fore eye-wituesses of the deed. The story told by Musa and 
 his companions was substantially as follows: They—the Jo- 
 hanna men—had followed Livingstone faithfully in all his 
 wanderings until the north-western end of Lake Nyassa was 
 reached: They had then started across the country in a 
 south-westerly direction, when suddenly and without a mo- 
 ment’s warning they were attacked by a band of the blood- 
 thirsty Mazitu. The little party, thus surprised, made what 
 
360 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 defense it could, but they were so outnumbered by the ene. 
 my that death for each one of them was only the question 
 of a few moments. Seeing the state of affairs, Musa and 
 what Johanna men were not already slain managed to es- 
 cape into a thick jungle, where they were successful in se- 
 ereting themselves; but not before they had seen Living- 
 stone’s head nearly severed from his body by the ax of a 
 Mazitu, who dealt him the deadly blow from behind. From 
 the jungle the Johanna men, after experiences too fearful 
 and harrowing to relate, had managed to make their escape 
 to Zanzibar. 
 
 This distressing story, substantiated as it was by Musa’s 
 companions, was credited by all save a few of Livingstone’s 
 most intimate friends. They could not believe it. They 
 thought it impossible for a man of Livingstone’s caution 
 and cool sagacity to have been caught in such a trap as 
 this. But outside these few, whose hopes remained un- 
 shaken to the last, the story, having now flown in every di- 
 rection on electrical wings, was universally believed. What 
 could be more probable? Even a man of Dr. Livingstone’s 
 well-known abilities was liable to be caught off his guard 
 sometimes; and what was equal to the cruelty, the cunning, 
 the blood-thirsty vindictiveness of the treacherous Zulus? 
 This intelligence first reached England on March 7th, 1867, 
 in the form of a dispatch sent by Dr. Kirke—Livingstone’s 
 old friend and fellow-traveler, who was now Her Majesty’s 
 consul at Zanzibar—to the Royal Geographical Society. 
 In making the announcement to the Society, Sir Roderick 
 Murchison, the president, said that while he did so with 
 feelings of the deepest grief, it was nevertheless not with- 
 out some hope and belief that the story would prove un- 
 true. A fortnight later Sir Roderick declared, at a second 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 361 
 
 meeting, that his faith in the improbability of Musa’s 
 story had become only the more strengthened with the 
 lapse of time. It was doubtless probable that Livingstone 
 nad been attacked by some hostile band, but that he had 
 been slain he could not believe. His conviction was that 
 Livingstone was somewhere in the interior, cut off from 
 communication with his friends, and he hoped and believed 
 a message would reach them after awhile. 
 
 This opinion of Sir Roderick was shared by a few others 
 of Livingstone’s more personal friends. The rest of them, 
 including the outside world in general, were of the belief 
 that the brave explorer had indeed perished. He was but 
 a man after all, therefore not invulnerable; and where in 
 all Africa could be found a more cruel and blood-thirsty 
 tribe than the Mazitu? He had said so himself in his book 
 on the Zambesi; and he had started from the coast with the 
 intention of crossing their country in search of Lake Tan- 
 ganyika. All the world knew that. Hence not only En- 
 gland, but the whole civilized globe, was thrown into the 
 sincerest mourning at news of his death—for dead they 
 surely believed him. 
 
 The newspapers now began publishing obituary notices, 
 while letters of condolence daily poured in upon the ex- 
 plorer’s family. The loss of such a man at such a time, 
 right on the threshold of the glorious work he had inaugu- 
 rated, was incalculable. AI! the world felt it, all the world 
 bemoaned it. When had a man before accomplished so no- 
 ble, so grand a work, and in so short a space? Would his 
 like ever be found again? These and many more such 
 questions were asked, while the regret and the sorrow at 
 his untimely end continued. 
 
 A strong desire now arose in the hearts of Livingstone’s 
 
362 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 friends who still believed him alive to go in search of him. 
 Though perhaps not slain by the dreaded Mazitu—as they 
 fervently hoped he was not—he might nevertheless be in 
 some place besieged by them, and cut off from all commu- 
 nication with the outside world. If such was the case, the 
 matter ought to be investigated at once. This feeling was 
 shared and warmly encouraged by Sir Roderick Murchison, 
 who had first presented the matter at a meeting of the So- 
 ciety. This movement resulted in the sending out by the 
 Society of a well-equipped search party under the command 
 of Mr. E. D. Young, who had been with Livingstone in 
 some of his explorations of the Zambesi. The party was 
 furnished with a small vessel built almost entirely of steel, 
 and so constructed that it could be easily taken apart, when 
 each part formed a burden not beyond the average strength 
 and endurance of an ordinarily strong and healthy man. 
 It was owing to this ingenious construction of the boat that 
 the exploring party was enabled to bear it by land around 
 the Murchison Cataracts, and thus proceed on up the Shire 
 to Lake Nyassa. 
 
 The expedition left England on the 10th of January, 
 1867, on board Her Majesty’s ship “The Celt,” which an- 
 chored safely in Table Bay on the 12th of July. Four 
 days later the men were transferred to Her Majesty’s ship 
 “ Petrel,” and by her carried direct to the Kongone mouth 
 of the Zambesi. On the 6th of August the steel vessel, hay- 
 ing been put together and launched, started on its journey 
 up the river. Exactly one month later it shot out into 
 Lake Nyassa with flowing sails. Here Mr. Young for the 
 first time received intelligence that left no doubt in his 
 mind as to the untruthfulness of the report concerning Liy- 
 ingstone’s death. At this point they met an Arab slave- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 363 
 
 trader, who told them that instead of going round the 
 northern end of the lake, as Musa had reported, Living- 
 stone had made his way down to the southern end. This 
 man had also recently seen and talked with the chief Ma- 
 renga, at whose town Livingstone had been staying before 
 he moved off in the direction of Lake Tanganyika. Ma- 
 renga had informed the trader of the cowardly desertion of 
 Livingstone by Musa and his companions, which was in 
 turn repeated to Mr. Young. A little farther on this story 
 was confirmed by the party meeting with two of the liberated 
 slaves, who had been with Livingstone after his desertion 
 by Musa, and who had helped him carry his baggage some 
 distance toward Lake Tanganyika. Having thus obtained 
 the knowledge of Livingstone’s safety up to a period much 
 later than that given by Musa in his story as the date of 
 the murder, Mr. Young and the expedition returned to En- 
 gland. While he seemed perfectly satisfied with the work 
 he had done, there were those who thought he had not car- 
 ried it out as he ought to have done; that he should not 
 have been satisfied with merely hearing that Livingstone 
 was still alive, but that he ought to have pushed on until 
 he came upon Livingstone himself. But doubtless Mr. 
 Young had good and sufficient reasons for not pursuing 
 this course, the chief of which was that he was not prepared 
 for an expedition by land. 
 
 Any further doubts that may have existed in regard to 
 Livingstone’s being alive, after the date assigned by Musa 
 for his murder, were forever set at rest by the arrival in 
 England, soon after the return of the expedition, of a letter 
 from the great traveler himself. It was addressed to his 
 son Thomas, and bore the date of February, 1867—full five 
 months after he had been said by Musa to have perished by 
 
364 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 the battle-ax of the fierce Mazitu. A few days later a let- 
 ter from Livingstone, dated the same month, was received 
 by Sir Roderick Murchison. Both of these letters spoke 
 of the great explorer as in ordinary health, and as well 
 started on his way in the direction of Lake Tanganyika. 
 He had on the 15th of January crossed the Chimbwe 
 River, and believed himself to be somewhere in the neigh- 
 borhood of another great lake, of which he had recently 
 heard much—Lake Bangweolo. 
 
 Now followed a time of much doubt and anxiety among 
 Livingstone’s friends, as well as of speculation and deep 
 concern to the world at large. For full seven months 
 nothing more was heard of him, though all sorts of rumors 
 in regard to him—first of his discovery, and then of his 
 death—came thick and fast. Other expeditions to go in 
 search of him were talked of, but nothing was settled definite- 
 
 ly, though from time to time various supplies were sent by 
 his friends to Zanzibar, with the hope that some way might 
 be found to get them into the interior, perhaps to some place 
 where he might come upon them. 
 
 Early in the year 1868 another letter from the great ex- 
 plorer arrived in England. It was dated December 14th, 
 1867, and was addressed toa Mr.Seward. The intelligence 
 conveyed in this letter was that he had somehow missed 
 Bangweolo, and came instead upon a much smaller lake, 
 Moero by name. He also stated that he had reached the 
 edge of another lake, which he had every season to believe 
 was the long looked-for Tanganyika, but which he had been 
 unable to explore on account of sickness and the hostile 
 state of the surrounding country. The letter closed by 
 saying that he was on the point of starting again for the 
 neighborhood of Lake Moero, where, he had strong grounds 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 369 
 
 for believing, he would find something important in regard 
 to the water-shed of that section. 
 
 Following upon this letter there was another six months’ 
 of weary waiting, when in July, 1868, there came a batch 
 of most interesting dispatches, all of which were dated “near 
 Lake Bangweolo,” and minutely and graphically detailed 
 the great traveler’s movements up to that time. After this 
 another long silence ensued, a silence that filled the space 
 of ten months, during which time all that was heard of 
 Livingstone’s movements was through a short letter to Dr. 
 Kirke at Zanzibar, under date of May 30th, 1869. In July 
 of the same year Dr. Kirke received another communica- 
 tion which stated that Livingstone was then at Ujiji, on the 
 north-eastern borders of Lake Tanganyika, and unable to 
 proceed for the want of supplies. Intelligence of this be- 
 ing at once conveyed to England, it created a profound 
 sensation and a feeling of the most intense sympathy in 
 Livingstone’s behalf. One thousand pounds were at once 
 subscribed by the English Government, which was supple- 
 mented by a liberal sum from the Geographical Society and 
 from the purses of many private friends. This sum was 
 forwarded from England to Dr. Kirke at Zanzibar in June, 
 1870, with instructions to fit out an expedition to go at once 
 to Livingstone’s relief. But now numerous delays occurred. 
 More than six months passed away after the arrival of the 
 money at Zanzibar, and still no expedition had started out, 
 though Dr. Kirke had from time to time sent supplies into 
 the interior by private parties, principally through traders, 
 hoping that they might chance in some way to reach Liv- 
 ingstone. But the all-important point was to send out not 
 only a supply party but a search party. Livingstone had 
 been so long in the heart of Africa, cut off from every thing 
 
366 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 pertaining to civilized life, that his friends were really grow- 
 ing alarmed about him. Though much was said and much 
 proposed, nothing was done, or seemed to have been done, 
 until late in February, 1871, when Dr. Kirke at last had 
 his party organized and ready to start from Zanzibar. 
 
 In the meanwhile, during all these delays, there had been 
 much talk in England of sending out a party direct from 
 that point. This talk, however, resulted in no prompt ac- 
 tion. Every one seemed willing to do, yet no one could 
 arrive at any thing definite to be done. It now remained 
 for America, with her usual pluck and dash, to come to the 
 rescue, and to reverse the old fable of the hare and the ior- 
 toise by sending the hare straight on to the race, while the 
 slow tortoise was only crawling about and making prepara- 
 tions to start—or, what seemed to be preparations. Now, 
 this is not meant as a reflection upon our English cous- 
 ins. We know that Livingstone was appreciated in his 
 own country, much more than it is generally given living 
 genius to realize; nay, further, that his country loved 
 and revered him, and that many honest efforts were made 
 to have a party go in search of him, and to search until it 
 had found him. The trouble was, they wasted too much pre- 
 cious time. It is almost needless to add that the American 
 hare won, for all the world knows that it was Henry M. 
 Stanley, the daring correspondent of the New York Herald, 
 who found Livingstone in the heart of Africa when every 
 other effort to reach him had failed; and that the man who 
 sent him was James Gordon Bennett, jr., the proprietor of 
 that newspaper. 
 
 In one of the biographies of Dr. Livingstone, written by 
 a countryman, we find this somewhat candid confession: 
 “No one appeared to hope for any thing from the expedi- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 367 
 
 tion sent out by the New York Herald, and gradually its 
 existence came to be overlooked, or forgotten.” No won- 
 der, then, that the sleepy tortoise rubbed its eyes in genuine 
 amazement when the news came that it was not the expedi- 
 tion sent out from Zanzibar, nor the one which started later 
 from England, that had found the great explorer in the 
 heart of the Dark Continent, but the hitherto ignored 
 expedition led by the almost unknown correspondent of an 
 American journal. 
 
 Mr. Stanley began his long and hazardous journey into 
 the African interior about the beginning of March, 1871. 
 But before giving some of the principal details of this ex- 
 pedition, we will go back and see just what Livingstone 
 was doing all this time, and where he really was. ; 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 SORE STRAITS—LOSS OF THE MEDICINE-CHEST—ACROSS THE CHIMB:- 
 WE AND CHAMBEZE—LAKE TANGANYIKA—MOERO—AT CAZEM- 
 BE'S—ATROCIOUS CRUELTIES—MISSIONARY LABORS—THE START 
 IN SEARCH OF LAKE BANGWEOLO—DESERTION OF THE MEN— 
 RETURN FROM THE LAKE—ON THE ROAD TO UJIJI-—DISTRESS- 
 ING ILLNESS—ACROSS LAKE TANGANYIKA—ARRIVAL AT UJIJI 
 —DISAPPOINTMENTS — ANOTHER WEARISOME TRAMP—UJIJ1 
 AGAIN—LIVINGSTONE IS FOUND BY STANLEY. 
 
 FTER being deserted by Musa and the Johanna 
 
 men, Livingstone pushed steadily on in the direc- 
 
 tion in which he believed Lake Tanganyika lay. Though 
 the story that he had been murdered was not true, the fear 
 that he was in sore straits proved to be well-founded. He 
 was not only harassed by savage foes, but he was half-starved 
 and sick besides. For weeks at a time he had to subsist en- 
 tirely on maize, which, he tells us, was the most tasteless 
 and unsatisfying food. This was at the close of the year 
 1866. Although so reduced in body, and subjected to such 
 physical tortures and deprivations, we find his patient, hope- 
 ful, and courageous spirit still unquenched. That it was 
 indeed the same old Livingstone—loving, gentle, submis- 
 sive, full of faith, and steadfast—these words taken from 
 his diary, and which were written by him during this trying 
 period, unmistakably show: “ We now end 1866. It has 
 not been so fruitful or useful as I intended. Will try to 
 do better in 1867, and be better—more gentle and loving; 
 
 and may the Almighty, to whom I commit my way, bring 
 4 (369) 
 
370 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 my desires to pass, and prosper me. Let all the sins of '66 
 be blotted out for Jesus’ sake. May he who was full of 
 grace and truth impress his character on mine: grace—ea- 
 gerness to show favor; truth—truthfulness, sincerity, honor, 
 for his mercy’s sake.” And here is an extract from a 
 letter to his son Thomas, under date of February, 1867: 
 “The people have nothing to sell but a little millet-por- 
 ridge and mushrooms. Woe is me! good enough to pro- 
 duce fine dreams of the roast beef of old England, but 
 nothing else. I have become very thin, though I was so 
 before; but now, if you weighed me, you might calculate 
 very easily how much you might get for the bones.” Who 
 but Livingstone could have written thus cheerfully—nay, 
 humorous] y—under such circumstances? At the beginning 
 of this year (1867) an additional calamity befell him—one 
 more serious than any he had yet been called upon to en- 
 dure. Through the dishonesty of one of his carriers he lost 
 his remaining stock of medicines. As he was at the time 
 suffering severely from an attack of the fever, we may well 
 believe that the loss of the power of treating himself was in- 
 deed, as one of his biographers declares, but “the beginning 
 of the end.” 
 
 Leaving the country of the dangerous and blood-thirsty 
 Mazitu well to the right, Livingstone passed on in a course 
 almost directly due north. On the 15th of January the par- 
 ty crossed the Chimbwe River. Here they had to wade 
 through a marsh a mile wide, exclusive of the river. The 
 water was up to the arm-pits, and the footing was so treach- 
 erous that two of the men came near losing their lives. Fif- 
 ty miles farther north they came upon another fine river, 
 which Livingstone found out was the Chambeze. He did 
 not doubt that both of these rivers fell into the lake of which 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. Ay fli 
 
 he had heard so much recently—Lake Bangweolo. He 
 would therezore, he believed, have only to follow the course 
 of these streams to find the lake. But as his search at pres- 
 ent was for Lake Tanganyika he passed on over the rivers. 
 In April he reached the southern end of a lake that he felt 
 sure was the Tanganyika, though it was here known by the 
 name of the Liemba. As far as he could see it proved to 
 be a magnificent sheet of water. The scenery in the vicin- 
 ity Was most striking—never had he seen any more pictur- 
 esque or beautiful, while the little villages clustered here 
 and there had an air of peace and hospitality rarely met 
 with in this savage country. At this place Livingstone 
 suffered from a severe and dangerous illness, which became 
 all the more alarming through his utter inability to treat 
 himself. Not so’much as one small vial from his medicine- 
 chest remained. When he had partially recovered he would 
 have gone on up the lake but that he heard there was a 
 very dangerous and hostile chief up that way who was kill- 
 ing every one who dared to cross his country. Livingstone 
 therefore turned in a direction due west from the lake, and 
 made his way to the town of a friendly chief by the name 
 of Chitamba. Here he remained for three months, when, 
 having the opportunity to travel in the company of some 
 very friendly Arab traders, he started off in the direction 
 af Lake Moero, which he discovered on the 8th of Novem- 
 ber, 1867. 
 
 After staying in the neighborhood of this lake two weeks 
 or so, and making many interesting geographical discoveries, 
 Livingstone determined on going to the town of a chief by 
 the name of Cazembe, of whom he had heard repeatedly, but 
 at no time very favorably. Cazembe was represented by ev- 
 ery one whu had ever seen him asa fierce and cruel chief— 
 
BY 67 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 one, too, who seemed to take the greatest delight in seeing 
 just how atrocious he could make his eruelties. He had a 
 way of punishing his people for the most trivial offenses by 
 cutting off their ears, and even their hands and feet. And 
 yet it was also said of him that he had many fine qualities. 
 He was exceedingly just and liberal with such of his people 
 as never offended, and was quite hospitable to strangers. 
 He had long since disregarded the title of chief, and was 
 now known as King Cazembe; and in a most tyrannical 
 way did he exercise his kingly prerogative. 
 
 On Livingstone’s arrival in Cazembe’s town the king 
 accorded him an impressive reception. It was somewhat 
 like that given him years before by the hospitable Shinte, 
 though Cazembe himself bore no resemblance whatever to 
 the generous and warm-hearted Shinte. When Livingstone 
 entered the place of council he found Cazembe upon his 
 throne, and surrounded by all his chief men and body- 
 guard. Livingstone had just taken his seat when one of 
 the head men arose and made a long and flowery speech to 
 the king, in which he gave a detailed account of Living- 
 stone and of his plans. He said in conclusion that he was 
 told that Livingstone had come to look for lakes and riy- 
 ers. He could not understand what the white man wanted 
 with such things; but he thought his object was a good 
 one. After this harangue the king bade his guest approach, 
 and asked him what he proposed to do. Livingstone told 
 him that it was his intention to go farther south, where 
 he had heard there were many lakes and rivers; then on 
 again up into the north, where he had every reason to 
 believe there were still more to be found. Cazembe was 
 greatly puzzled at this, and shaking his head in a dazed 
 kind of way, asked: “ What can you want to go there for? 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 373 
 
 The water is close here. Plenty of large waters are in this 
 very neighborhood. Why do you want more?” Although 
 the king was so greatly perplexed and mystified, and 
 thought at first that Livingstone must surely be mad, he 
 was nevertheless much attracted toward him, and gave or- 
 ders that he should be well attended to while he remained 
 in the town, and be allowed to go unmolested anywhere 
 about the country he wished. 
 
 Despite the many horrible things he saw here, and the 
 atrocious cruelty of Cazembe as practiced toward his offend- 
 ing people, Livingstone had a very restful and interesting 
 stay at this place, and remained for some months. As his 
 time and physical condition permitted, Livingstone preached 
 to Cazembe’s people. He would have liked above all things 
 to make an impression for good upon the wicked old king, 
 but somehow Cazembe seemed hard to influence; yet when 
 the day came for Livingstone to take his departure he was 
 not without hope that the words he had from time to time 
 spoken had found lodgment within the chief’s breast. Some 
 months after Livingstone left the place he was greatly re- 
 joiced to hear through a trader that Cazembe had almost 
 entirely abandoned his former cruel mode of punishment, 
 and now resorted to it only in extreme cases. So much for 
 the silent power of noble and steadfast example; for Liv- 
 ingstone’s pure, beautifully consistent life had been more 
 of a reproach to Cazembe than any thing else. There had 
 not been so much in the words he had taught as in the life 
 he had lived. O how this should encourage us to make 
 our lives pure and clean and sweet!—not so much for the 
 good they will bring to us as for the aspirations they will 
 awaken in the lives of others. Let this be our daily de 
 sire: 
 
374 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 May every soul that touches mine, 
 
 By the slightest contact, get therefrom some good, 
 
 Some little grace; one kindly thought, 
 
 One aspiration yet unfelt, one bit of courage 
 
 For the darkening sky; one gleam of faith 
 
 To brave the thickening ills of life; 
 
 One glimpse of brighter skies beyond the gathering malate, 
 To make this life worth while, 
 
 And heaven a surer heritage. 
 
 Livingstone had for some time purposed going to Ujiji, 
 on the north-eastern shore of Lake Tanganyika, where 
 he hoped supplies and letters were awaiting him. He 
 was completely worn out by the hardships of the long 
 marches he had made. Besides, his system was all run 
 down for the want of proper nourishment, as well as of 
 medicine. For two years he had seareely had any thing 
 to eat but the coarse maize of the country, which had 
 so broken his teeth that it was now with the utmost diff- 
 culty that he could chew at all. In all this time he had 
 had neither tea, sugar, nor coffee, with the exception of a 
 small supply of the two latter, given him by a friendly 
 Arab trader while he was at Cazembe’s town. Living- 
 stone had therefore intended starting direct for Ujiji on 
 leaving Cazembe’s; but while there he had heard so much 
 of the great lake, Bangweolo, that he determined to de- 
 fer his journey to Ujiji until he should first go in search 
 of the lake. This latter decision sorely discouraged his 
 men. Like himself, they were worn down by the constant 
 fatigues and hardships of the many marches about the coun- 
 try in search of lakes a hich seemed to 
 them aimless. On the eve of the proposed departure for 
 Bangweolo all except five of these men rebelled, and re- 
 fused to stir a foot save in the direction of Ujiji. In his 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 375 
 
 heart Livingstone could not blame them. It was no won- 
 der they were tired of the “everlasting tramping,” as he 
 termed it, for he himself was sick of it. So he said noth- 
 ing to them, but left them to pursue their own course. He 
 reaped the reward of his mildness, for on coming back from 
 the lake they every one eagerly rejoined him. 
 
 Undaunted by the refusal of his men to accompany him, 
 Livingstone set out in search of Lake Bangweolo with the 
 mere remnant left to him, reénforced by a small detach- 
 ment of Cazembe’s people. On the 18th of July they came 
 in sight of the great lake. Much to Livingstone’s surprise 
 he found its surface dotted with numerous small islands, 
 nearly every one of which was inhabited. The people on 
 these islands were at first terror-stricken at Dr. Living- 
 stone’s appearance, taking him for some supernatural be- 
 ing, they never having seen a white man before. However, 
 he soon reiissured them, and then they crowded about him 
 in wonder and curiosity. And now for many weary months 
 Livingstone kept up his tramp, tramp, tramp about the 
 borders of the lake, ever in search of the same all-absorb- 
 ing object—any stream that might issue therefrom. At 
 length when he came upon the Chambeze, at the point 
 whence it flows from the lake under the name of the Lua- 
 pula, he was confident he had found the southern feeder of 
 the Nile. But alas! on the very eve of what seemed to 
 him the unraveling of the great chain of mystery a link 
 “turned up missing.” On he went once more—on, on, in 
 the ceaseless tramp that it now seemed to his disheartened 
 men would never have an end. So many times did he ask 
 the wondering natives the same question, “ Where is there 
 another stream issuing from the lake?” and so many times 
 did he go over the ground gone over before, that they 
 
376 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 really began to think him mad. No, he was not mad—only 
 resolute and determined. But even his iron courage gave 
 way at last—rather, the physical man began so to resent 
 the abuses that had been heaped upon it that the mental 
 man was finally forced to succumb. What, after all, had 
 these tiresome tramps amounted to? Many, many things; 
 though not the one thing for which he had so ardently hoped 
 —the one thing that was to make the terrors of the way 
 seem as nothing—the one thing that would be a joyful rec- 
 ompense for all the horrors endured. He had found the 
 southern end of the magnificent Lake Tanganyika, he had 
 discovered the smaller Lake Moero, and now he had come 
 upon the glorious waters of Bangweolo. From Lake Mo- 
 ero he had found issuing the river Luapula, which flowed 
 to that lake direct from Bangweolo, and he had found be- 
 sides many larger and smaller streams that crossed and re- 
 crossed the country like the threads of an intricate net- 
 work. In addition, he had solyed many mysteries; he 
 had cleared up errors made by previous explorers; he had 
 added to the geographical knowledge of the country as no 
 other man had done; still the one vexed question was yet 
 unsettled—the mystery of the sources of the Nile: a myste- 
 ry which Grant, Speke, and Baker believed they had long 
 ago cleared up, but which some few, principally men of 
 among them Livingstone—thought was not the 
 
 science 
 case. 
 Livingstone felt confident that the sources of the Nile 
 were south of all the lakes except Bangweolo. He believed 
 that through the Luapula River he could dispel the myste- 
 ry. He had seen it where, under the name of the Cham- 
 beze, it ran into the eastern end of Lake Bangweolo; then 
 whence it issued as the Luapula, flowing north by the town 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 317 
 
 of Cazembe, and twelve miles below that town entering 
 Lake Moero. On leaving Moero it passed on in a north- 
 westerly course forming Lake Nylenge in the country west 
 of Tanganyika. He had seen all this, and believed that he 
 was at last about to solve the problem of ages. If he could 
 but trace the Luapula to its mouth, then would the missing 
 link be connected with the chain of evidence. 
 
 While at Cazembe’s town Livingstone heard of a won- 
 derful people who lived in a certain section of country 
 called Rua, which lay to the north-west of Lake Moero. 
 These people lived in under-ground villages fashioned by 
 the hands of Nature, some of them being as much as thirty 
 miles in length. Through these cunningly contrived caves 
 flowed beautiful rills of water as clear as crystal. On the 
 walls, which were in some places of solid marble, were in- 
 genious drawings of men, animals, and of many other curi- 
 ous things, said to be thousands of years old. The people 
 themselves were a strange race, and practiced many cus- 
 toms not known in any other part of the country. They 
 were exceedingly well formed and graceful, especially the 
 women; were not so dark as the generality of their dusky 
 brethren, and had large, fine eyes, the outer angles of which 
 slanted inward. Livingstone had a great curiosity to go 
 and see this people, and determined to do so at no distant 
 day, should life be spared to him. 
 
 On the 11th of December, 1868, Livingstone started on 
 the journey to Ujiji, where he hoped to fined supplies, and 
 where he also hoped to pass a season of rest and build him- 
 self up for what yet lay before him. He was sanguine of 
 doing this, could he but get the proper medicines and diet. 
 A few days after starting on this journey he was stricken 
 by the severest illness he had yet experienced. He was 
 
378 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 unable to walk, and a litter was constructed by two of the 
 kind-hearted Arab traders in whose company he traveled, 
 and on this he was borne in turn by four of his men. Though 
 they were willing and faithful, and tried to carry him as 
 carefully as possible, yet the way was so rough that every 
 movement caused him excruciating pain. With the sun 
 glaring hotly down upon his pallid face, the recurrent fever 
 torturing his body, and a distressing cough that never left 
 him day nor night, he was still cheerful and uncomplain- 
 ing, and not once did a murmur escape his lips! He knew 
 that his own spirit would influence that of his men, and he 
 wished above every thing to keep them patient and cheer- 
 ful. That he succeeded was attested by the happy bursts 
 of song to which they often gave vent, sometimes in the 
 midst of the most troublous conditions of the way. Though 
 often so racked with pain that to speak many words was 
 positive agony, Livingstone tried to say droll things to the 
 men to get them to Jaugh—for, in his opinion, the man who 
 can laugh never knows the sharp side of trouble. 
 
 On the 26th of February, 1869, the southern end of the 
 great Lake Tanganyika was reached. Here Livingstone 
 felt his spirits rise so that he was enabled to sit up in the 
 canoe for much of the distance. It was a glorious journey, 
 extending over more than two-thirds of the entire length of 
 the magnificent sheet of water. The lake proved fully as 
 beautiful as it had been described. The water was of a 
 deep, serene blue that seemed to mirror all the rarer love- 
 liness of the sky that arched above it. Livingstone gives 
 this description of the southern end, known as Lake Liem- 
 ba: “It lies in a hollow, with precipitous sides, two thou- 
 sand feet down. It is extremely beautiful; sides, top, and 
 bottom being covered with trees and other vegetation. Ile- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 379 
 
 phants, buffaloes, and antelopes feed on the steep slopes, 
 while hippopotami, crocodiles, and fish swarm in the wa- 
 ters. It is as perfect a natural paradise as Xenophon 
 could have desired. On two rocky islands men till the 
 land, rear goats, and catch fish; the villages ashore are 
 embowered in the palm-oil palms of the west shore of Af 
 rica. Four considerable streams flow into Liemba; and a 
 number of brooks, from twelve to fifteen feet broad, leap 
 down the steep bright clay schist rocks, and form splendid 
 cascades, that made the dullest of my attendants pause and 
 remark with wonder.” 
 
 Ujiji was reached on the 14th of March. Here a bitter 
 disappointment awaited Livingstone. All the goods and 
 supplies he had expected—and much of which had really 
 been sent here—had been stolen and scattered by the par- 
 ties to whom they had been intrusted. But there was a 
 cheering ray amidst all this gloom. Livingstone heard of 
 other supplies at Unyanyembe, thirteen days’ journey dis- 
 tant. He resolved to go thither; but no sooner had he 
 formed this resolution than he found it well-nigh impossi- 
 ble to put it into execution. A fierce war was raging, and 
 all the country was so torn up in consequence that an at- 
 tempt to cross it was almost sure to be fatal. Only after 
 making close inquiries, however, and finding what a dread- 
 ful state of affairs really existed, did Livingstone abandon 
 the idea of trying to make his way to Unyanyembe. 
 
 Livingstone remained at Ujiji until the 12th of July, 
 1869, when, in spite of his still weakened condition, he set 
 off to explore the Manyuema country to the north-west of 
 Lake Tanganyika—on the same old mission bent, clearing 
 up the mystery of the head-waters of the Nile. Tfis one 
 great object now was to trace the course of the Luapula 
 
380 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 River. At Bambarré, the village of a chief by the name of 
 Moencekuss, he was detained nearly six months by ulcers on 
 the feet. His sufferings were intense, but he managed in 
 that time to preach many sermons to the people, and to sow 
 much precious seed. While at this village he heard again 
 of the people of Rua. There was now the additional intel- 
 ligence of wonderful fountains, near the remarkable caves, 
 that leaped straight up from the earth with great impetu- 
 osity to the distance of many feet. Livingstone pondered 
 much over these fountains, and the more he thought of them 
 the stronger grew his desire to have a sight of them. Per- 
 haps they might in some way help him in the solution of 
 the great mystery that had so long perplexed him. He heard 
 of them again and again the deeper he penetrated into the 
 Manyuema country, and by putting together first one thing 
 and then another he at last came to the conclusion that 
 these wonderful fountains could be no other than the far- 
 famed fountains of Herodotus that lay between the sources 
 of the two mighty rivers mentioned in ancient history, the 
 one as flowing north to Egypt (the Nile), and the other 
 south to a country that must be Ethiopia (the Congo), It 
 made Livingstone’s blood leap to think of it. Was the mys- 
 tery of ages about to be solved at last? He would at least 
 go and see. But first he must attend to the Luapula. 
 Now began another long and fatiguing tramp through a 
 country watered by many rivers—so many, in fact, that 
 often Livingstone was misled by them—and traversed by a 
 chain of lakes that formed one of the most magnificent wa- 
 ter systems on the face of the globe. Hundreds of miles 
 were gone over in this way; then, just as he believed him- 
 self on the point of solving the mystery that had so long 
 baffled him, his men refused to go a step farther. Threats, 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 381 
 
 promises, appeals, persuasions, all alike failed. Weary, 
 disappointed, sick in body and in mind, he was obliged to 
 turn back and retrace his steps over a distance of more than 
 five hundred miles. What made this even more dreadful 
 was that he believed but one-fifth of that distance, perhaps 
 less, lay between him and the finding of the lost link in the 
 chain of evidence. O if some intimation could but have 
 been given him then that it was the Congo sources he was 
 so industriously following up, and not those of the Nile! 
 He did not suspect it then, though to do him justice he 
 did in the final days of his last long and wearisome search. 
 The question, however, was left for others to prove conclu- 
 sively—others who had the advantage of all his accurate 
 and valuable estimates to help them. But no suspicion of 
 the real truth of the matter had at this time entered his 
 mind, and it was therefore with the keenest disappointment 
 and regret that he found himself compelled to turn back. 
 At one time he felt like going alone; but that would have 
 been sheer madness, as he soon realized. He would also 
 have exercised to the last his authority over his men, but 
 he said to himself: “I have no right to sacrifice these men 
 if they do not wish to be sacrificed, for the country before 
 us may be, as they declare, a wilderness of swamps and 
 bogs—destitute, too, of food of any kind; and they may 
 indeed all perish. I will therefore go back to Ujjiji, as they 
 urge me to do, and as my better judgment tells me it is best 
 todo. There, doubtless, supplies have arrived by this time. 
 I will go there, get my supplies, hire other people, and try 
 it again.” He went back once more to his old stopping- 
 place, Ujiji, so utterly worn out with all these years of 
 ceaseless tramping that he was more like a dead man than 
 alive one. In body he was mere skin and bone; his feet 
 
382 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 were covered with sores; he had no clothes to speak of, 
 while his gray beard and hair gave him tie appearance of 
 an old, old man, when in reality he was only fifty-seven, in 
 the prime of life. O how tired he was, and how he longed 
 for rest and for some of the comforts of civilized life! How 
 pathetic! All these things were to be again denied him, 
 and the disappointments of this return were to be even 
 keener than those of his first arrival. He had not more 
 than laid his weary head down upon the mat in his hut 
 when his men, who had gone out to investigate for them- 
 selves, came back to him weeping bitterly. “ What is the 
 matter?” he asked in alarm. “The things have been sent 
 here for us,” was the reply, “but Shereef [ Dr. Livingstone’s 
 agent at this place] has made away with themall. He sold 
 them for ivory, and now he has sent the ivory away to the 
 coast. There is nothing left to us for all our hard sery- 
 ices.” And they began to cry afresh. Livingstone tried 
 to comfort them as best he could. In the meantime he 
 sent for Shereef. He came looking shamefacedly enough, 
 though he tried to put a bold front upon it all. On being 
 asked to give an explanation of his conduct, he declared 
 that he had not acted until first assured of Livingstone’s 
 death. Shereef was a Mohammedan. He had sought the 
 Koran for light. It had been told him that Livingstone 
 was dead. He had then sold the goods to get pay for tak- 
 ing care of them. Livingstone knew not what to do in a 
 case of this kind. The most distressing part was his own 
 needs and the pitiable condition of his men. Poor fellows! 
 they did feel their loss keenly, he knew. They had served 
 him faithfully and well—barring that one exhibition of ob- 
 stinacy, for which he could not really blame them—and it 
 did seem very hard that they should have no reward for 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 383 
 
 their services, especially when he had so many times re- 
 vived their flagging spirits with pictures of what was await- 
 ing them at Ujiji. And thus disappointed, hopeless, sick, 
 destitute of even the commonest nourishments, robbed and 
 defied by his agent, with his men clamoring for their pay, 
 Mr. Stanley found him at last, and brought to him hope, 
 joy, even life itself. 
 
 To give a detailed account of even a few of the more 
 prominent incidents of Stanley’s search for Livingstone 
 would be beyond the compass of our work, especially in its 
 present dimensions. Suffice it to say that nearly every 
 mile of the route fairly bristled with dangers, and that but 
 for the cool-headedness and unflagging bravery of the man 
 who led the expedition it is doubtful if it would ever have 
 been successful. The difficulties were almost as great as 
 the dangers, but each in turn was surmounted. At one 
 or two points Mr. Stanley had literally to fight his way 
 through hostile tribes. Once he was compelled to stop and 
 build regular fortifications, behind which he lay for many 
 days, not daring to stir a foot onward. He did not get out 
 of some of these “ tight places” without paying very dear- 
 ly, as we may believe. But his losses—ten men, two horses, 
 and twenty-seven asses in all—were really very light, when 
 we remember what he had to encounter. 
 
 Unyanyembe was reached on the 23d of June. We take 
 up the narrative on the 10th of November, fifty-one days 
 out from Unyanyembe, and on the eve of the little expedi- 
 tion’s approach to Ujiji. We will let Mr. Stanley relate 
 what followed, in his own breezy and pleasant way: 
 
 “November 10th, Friday.—The 236th day from Baga- 
 moyo, and the 51st day from Unyanyembe. General di- 
 
 rection to Ujiji, west-by-south. Time of march, six hours 
 
384 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 It is a happy, glorious morning. The air is fresh and cool. 
 The sky lovingly smiles on the earth and her children. The 
 deep wocds are crowned in bright-green leafage; the water 
 of the Mkuti, rushing under the emerald shade afforded by 
 the bearded banks, seems to challenge us for the race to 
 Ujiji with its continuous brawl. We are all outside the 
 village cane-fence, every man of us, looking as spruce as 
 neat, and happy as when we embarked on the dhows at 
 Zanzibar, which seems to us to have been ages ago—we 
 have witnessed and experienced so much. ‘Forward!’ ‘Ay, 
 Wallah; ay, Wallah; bana yango’ [Yes, with God’s help; 
 yes, with God’s help, our master]; and the light-hearted 
 braves stride away at a rate which must soon bring us 
 within view of Ujiji. We ascend a hill overgrown with 
 bamboo, descend into a ravine through which dashes an 
 impetuous little torrent, ascend another short hill; then, 
 along a smooth foot-path running across the slope of a long 
 ridge, we push on as only eager, light-hearted men can do. 
 In two hours I am warned to prepare for a view of Tan- 
 ganyika, for, from the top of a steep mountain, the kiran- 
 gozi says I can sce it. I almost vent the feelings of my 
 heart in cries. But wait; we must behold it first. And 
 we press forward and up the hill breathlessly, lest the 
 grand scene hasten away. We are at last on the summit. 
 Ah! not yet can it be seen. <A little farther on—just yon- 
 der, O! there it is—a silvery gleam. I merely catch sight 
 of it between the trees, and—but here it is at last! True— 
 the Tanganyika! and there the blue-black mountains of 
 Ugoma and Ukaramba. An immense broad sheet, a bur- 
 nished bed of silvei-licid canopy of blue above lofty mount- 
 ains, are its valances; palm-forests form its fringes. The 
 Tanganyika! Jurrah! And the men respond to the ex- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 385 
 
 ultant ery of the Anglo-Saxon with the lungs of Stentors, 
 and the great forests and the hills seem to share in our tri- 
 umph. .. We are descending the western slope of the mount- 
 ain, with the valley of the Liuche before us. Something 
 like an hour before noon we have gained the thick mantete- 
 brake which grows on both banks of the river; we wade 
 through the clear stream, arrive on the other side, emerge 
 out of the brake, and the gardens of the Wajiji are around 
 us—a perfect marvel of vegetable wealth. Details escape 
 my hasty and partial observation. I am almost overpow- 
 ered with my own emotions. I notice the graceful palms, 
 neat plats, green with vegetable plants, and small villages 
 surrounded with frail fences of mantete-cane. We push on 
 rapidly, lest the news of our coming might reach the peo- 
 ple of Bunder Ujiji before we come in sight, and are ready 
 for them. We halt at a little brook, then ascend the long 
 slope of a naked ridge, the very last of the myriads we have 
 erossed. This alone prevents us from seeing the lake in all 
 its vastness. We arrive at the summit, travel across and 
 arrive at its western rim, and—pause, reader—the port of 
 Ujiji is below us, embowered in the palms, only five hun- 
 dred yards from us! At this grand moment we do not 
 think of the hundreds of miles we have marched, of the 
 hundreds of hills we have ascended and descended, of the 
 many forests we have traversed, of the jungles and thickets 
 that annoyed us, of the fervid salt-plains that blistered our 
 feet, of the hot suns that scorched us, nor of the dangers and 
 difficulties now happily surmounted. At last the sublime 
 hour has arrived!—our dreams, our hopes and anticipa- 
 tions, are now about to be realized. Our hearts and our 
 feelings are with our eyes, as we peer into the palms and 
 try to make out in which hut or house lives the white man 
 
 25 
 
386 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 with the gray beard we heard about on the Malagarazi. 
 ‘Unfurl the flags, and load your guns.’ ‘Ay, Wallah; ay, 
 Wallah, bana,’ responded the men eagerly. ‘One, two, 
 three—fire!’ A volley from nearly fifty guns roars like a 
 battery of artillery; we shall note its effect presently on the 
 peaceful-looking village below. ‘ Now, kirangozi, hold the 
 white man’s flag up high, and Jet the Zanzibar flag bring 
 up the rear. And you men keep close together, and keep 
 firing until we halt in the market-place, or before the white 
 man’s house.’ Before we had gone a hundred yards our re- 
 peated volleys had the effect desired. We had awakened 
 Ujiji to the knowledge that a caravan was coming, and 
 the people were witnessed rushing up in hundreds to meet 
 us. The mere sight of the flags informed every one imme- 
 diately that we were a caravan; but the American flag, 
 borne aloft by gigantic Asmani, whose face was one vast 
 smile on this day, rather staggered them at first. However, 
 many of the people who now approached us remembered 
 the flag. They had seen it float above the American Con- 
 sulate and from the mast-head of many a ship in the har- 
 bor at Zanzibar, and they were soon heard welcoming the 
 beautiful flag with cries of ‘ Binder kisungu!’—a white 
 man’s flag; ‘Bindera Merikani!’—the American flag. 
 Then we were surrounded by them: by Wajiji, Wanyam- 
 wezi, Warundi, Waguhha, Wamanyuema, and Arabs, and 
 were almost deafened with the shouts of ‘Yambo, yambo, 
 bana! Yambo, bana! Yambo, bana!’ To all and each 
 of my men the welcome was given. We are now about 
 three hundred yards from the village of Ujiji, and the 
 crowds are dense about me. Suddenly I hear a voice on 
 my right say, ‘Good-morning, sir.’ Startled at hearing 
 
 teed es 
 
 this greeting in the midst of such a crowd of black people, 
 
7) 
 
 (38 
 
 AND SUSI. 
 
 CHUMAH 
 
388 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 I turn sharply around in search of the man, and see him at 
 my side, with the blackest of faces, but animated and joy- 
 ous—a man dressed in a long white shirt, with a turban of 
 American sheeting around his woolly head—and Task, ‘ Well, 
 who is this?’ ‘I am Susi, the servant of Doctor Living- 
 stone,’ said he, smiling, and showing a gleaming row of 
 teeth. ‘What! Is Doctor Livingstene here?’ ‘ Yes, sir.’ 
 ‘In this village?’ Yes, sir” ‘Are yousure?’ ‘Sure, sure, 
 sir. Why, I leave him just now.’ ‘Good-morning, sir,’ 
 said another voice. ‘ Halloo,’ said I, ‘is this another one?’ 
 ‘Yes, sir. ‘Well, what is your name?’ ‘My name is 
 Chumah, sir.” ‘ What! are you Chumah, the friend of We- 
 kotani?’ ‘Yes, sir” ‘And is the Doctor well?’ ‘Not 
 very well, sir.’ ‘ Where has he been so long?’ ‘In Man- 
 yuema.’ ‘Now you, Susi, ren and tell the Doctor I am 
 coming?’ ‘Yes, sir” And off he darted like a madman. 
 But by this time we were within two hundred yards of the 
 village, and the multitude was getting denser, and almost 
 preventing our march. Flags and streamers were out, 
 Arabs and Wangwana were pushing their way through the 
 natives in order to greet us, for, according to their account, 
 we belonged to them. But the great wonder of all was, 
 ‘How did you come from Unyanyembe?’ Soon Susi came 
 running back, and asked me my name; he had told the 
 Doctor I was coming, but the Doctor was too surprised to 
 believe him, and, when the Doctor asked him my name, 
 
 ? 
 
 Susi was rather staggered. But during Susi’s absence the 
 news had been conveyed to the Doctor that it was surely a 
 white man that was coming, whose guns were firing, and 
 whose flag could be seen; and the great Arab magnates of 
 Ujiji—Mohammed bin Sali, Sayd bin Majid, Abid bin Sul- 
 iman, Mohammed bin Gharib, and others—had gathered 
 
 ~ 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. ~ 889 
 
 together before the Doctor’s house, and the Doctor had 
 come out from his veranda to discuss the matter and await 
 my arrival. In the meantime the head of the expedition 
 had halted, and the kirangozi was out of the ranks, hold- 
 ing his flag aloft, and Selim said to me: ‘I see the Doctor, 
 sir. O what an old man! He has got a white beard.’ 
 And I—what would I not have given for a bit of friendly 
 wilderness where, unseen, | might vent my joy in some 
 mad freak, such as idiotically biting my hand, turning a 
 somersault, or slashing at trees, in order to allay those ex- 
 citing feelings that were well-nigh uncontrollable? My 
 heart beats fast, but I must not let my face betray my emo- 
 tions lest it shall detract from the dignity of a white man 
 appearing under such extraordinary circumstances. So I 
 did that which I thought was the most dignified. I pushed 
 back the crowds, and, passing from the rear, walked down 
 a, living avenue of people, until I came in front of the semi- 
 civele of Arabs, in the front of which stood the white man 
 with the gray beard. As I advanced slowly toward him 
 I noticed he was pale, looked wearied, had a gray beard, 
 wore a bluish cap with a faded gold band around it, had 
 on a red-sleeved waistcoat and a pair of gray tweed trou- 
 sers. I would have run to him, only I was a coward in the 
 presence of such a mob—would have embraced him, only 
 he being an Englishman, I did not know how he would re- 
 ceive me; so I did what cowardice and false pride suggested 
 was the best thing—walked deliberately to him, took off 
 my hat, and said, ‘ Doctor Livingstone, I presume?’ ¢ Yes,’ 
 said he with a kind smile, lifting his cap; and we both 
 grasp hands, and then I say aloud: ‘I thank God, Doctor, 
 I have been permitted to see you.’ He answered: ‘I feel 
 thankful that I am here to welcome you. 
 
 399 
 
STANLEY MEETING LIVINGSTONE. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 STANLEY’S DESCRIPTION OF LIVINGSTONE—EXAMINATION OF THE 
 NORTHERN END OF LAKE TANGANYIKA—THE DEPARTURE 
 FROM UJIJI—THE SEPARATION AT UNYANYEMBE—NEWS OF 
 THE FINDING OF LIVINGSTONE—LATER REPORTS OF HIS DEATH 
 —REPORTS CONFIRMED—THE LAST TRAMP — ILLNESS — LAST 
 HOURS—DEATH. 
 
 PON the events following Stanley’s meeting with 
 jel Livingstone, and covering Stanley’s stay at Ujiji, 
 we can touch but briefly. There was much to be told, 
 much to be listened to, many eager questions to be asked 
 on both sides. To Livingstone—who had been so long cut 
 off from the knowledge of home, friends, and of all civil- 
 ized happenings—the coming of Stanley was like the fresh 
 and invigorating breath of another world; the reviving of 
 things that had long seemed dead; the recalling of events, 
 persons, and places which the way-worn traveler had thought 
 never to hear of again. Over and over he said to Stanley: 
 “You have brought me new life! You have brought me 
 new life!” Long they sat and talked, heedless of the pass- 
 ing time; and not until the gray dawn came stealing 
 through the chinks of the little hut did they think of lying 
 down to their brief rest. ; 
 
 Stanley’s description of Livingstone at this period cannot 
 fail to be of interest, so we give it here: “ Upon my first in- 
 troduction to him, Livingstone was to me like a huge tome 
 with a most upretending binding. Within, the work might 
 contain much valuable lore and wisdom, but its exterior 
 
 (391) 
 
BOL. LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 gave no promise of what was within. Thus, outside, Liv- 
 ingstone gave no token—except of being rudely dealt with 
 by the wilderness—of what elements of power or talent lay 
 within. He is a man of unpretending appearance enough, 
 has quiet, composed features, from which the freshness of 
 youth has quite departed, but which retain the mobility of 
 prime age—just enough to show that there lies much en- 
 durance and yigor within his frame. The eyes, which are 
 hazel, are remarkably bright, not dimmed in the least, though 
 the whiskers and the mustache are very gray. The hair, 
 originally brown, is streaked here and there with gray over 
 the temples; otherwise it might belong to a man of thirty. 
 The teeth alone show indications of being worn out: the 
 hard fare of Louda and Manajenia have made havoc in 
 their rows. His form is stoutish—a little over the ordina- 
 ry height, with slightly bowed shoulders. When walking 
 he has the heavy step of an overworked and fatigued man. 
 On his head he wears the naval cap, with a round visor, 
 with which he has been identified throughout Africa. His 
 dress shows that at times he has had to resort to the needle 
 to repair and replace what travel has worn. Such is Liy- 
 ingstone externally.” 
 
 After a season of rest, necessary to recruit their wasted 
 energies, Stanley and Livingstone determined upon an ex- 
 amination of the northern end of Tanganyika. The object 
 of this was to settle definitely, if possible, the question that 
 had so long perplexed Livingstone, whether or not the lake 
 had an outlet at this point. The investigation was careful- 
 ly and thoroughly made, but to the disappointment of both 
 —especially so to Livingstone—it was found that the river 
 Luzizi, instead of flowing out of the lake as Livingstone 
 had supposed, flowed into it. This at once put an end te 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 393 
 
 Livingstone’s belief that the lake discharged itself in a 
 northerly direction, and also to his favorite theory in re- 
 gard to the Nile sources—at least such portion of it as was 
 connected with this lake. 
 
 Seeing how worn and wasted Livingstone was, and sur- 
 mising how futile would prove this chase upon which he 
 was still bent, Stanley tried to persuade him to return home 
 with him; but in vain. The more the problem baffled Liv- 
 ingstone, the more he determined to solve it. Much as his 
 heart yearned for his home and friends—more especially 
 for his dear ones—still unwaveringly did he stand by what 
 he deemed a principle of duty. He had parted from the 
 members of the Royal Geographical Society with the fixed 
 determination and the promise to settle beyond a question 
 of doubt, if possible, the latter theory—which not only he 
 but many of them held—in regard to a more southerly sit- 
 uation of the springs of the Nile than that given by Speke 
 and Baker. They were all expectant—especially Sir Rod- 
 erick Murchison, for whom Livingstone entertained the 
 truest esteem—and sore indeed would be their disappoint- 
 ment should he leave the great problem still unsolved, and 
 
 that too upon the very eve of what seemed to him certain 
 discovery. Besides, he had a personal interest in the solu- 
 tion of the question—nay, a deep-laid, a sacred interest. 
 We have seen how great was Livingstone’s reverence 
 for the Bible, and for all the events and places described 
 therein. Feeling thus, he deemed it a religious duty to 
 throw what light he could upon the mystery that had so 
 long enveloped the majestic river upon whose placid bosom 
 the infant Moses had floated. With his usual unselfish- 
 ness and devotion, he took no thought of himself. What to 
 - him were the flooded plains, the treacherous sponges of the 
 
394 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 swamps—nay, even the dread fever, or the still more terri. 
 ble pneumonia, “worse than ten fevers?” Fortified by the 
 soul-inspiring knowledge that he was but following straight 
 upon the line of duty, neither the thought of sickness nor 
 of death had the power to turn him from his course. But, 
 knowing Livingstone so well, we may believe that even a 
 higher and nobler purpose than this actuated him. More 
 and more, the farther he advanced into the country, had 
 he witnessed the dread horrors of the slave-trade. No won- 
 der he came to designate it the ‘open sore of the world,” 
 and to call down God’s richest blessings upon all who would 
 endeavor to heal it—be he “American, English, or Turk.” * 
 His own brave words also give us the key-note to another 
 and higher motive that swayed him: “ No one can estimate 
 the amount of God-pleasing good that will be done, if by 
 divine favor this awful slave-trade, into the midst of which 
 I have come, be abolished. This wili be something to have 
 lived for, and the conviction has grown into my mind that 
 it is for this end I have been detained so long.” And again 
 he says, under date of December, 1872: “If the good Lord 
 permits me to put a stop to the enormous evils of the in- 
 land slave-trade, I shall not grudge my hunger and toils. 
 T shall bless his name with all my heart. The Nile sources 
 are valuable to me only as a means of enabling me to open 
 
 *The expression from which these words are quoted occurs in a 
 letter to Mr. James Gordon Bennett, of the New York Herald, under 
 date of May Ist, 1872, and is as follows: “All I can add in my lone- 
 liness is, May Heaven’s rich blessings come down on every one— 
 American, English, or Turk—who will help to heal the open sore 
 of the world.’ The words were afterward rendered memorable by 
 being inscribed upon Dr. Livingstone’s monument in Westminster 
 
 Abbey. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 395 
 
 my mouth with power among men. It is this power I hope 
 to apply to remedy an enormous evil, and join my poor lit- 
 tle helping-hand in the enormous revolution that in his all- 
 embracing providence he has been carrying on for ages, 
 and is now actually helping forward.” Speaking of the 
 unwillingness of the natives to believe in the true purpose 
 of his investigation, he further adds: “They all treat me 
 with respect, and are very much afraid of being written 
 against; but they consider the sources of the Nile to bea 
 sham; the true object of my being sent is to see their odi- 
 ous system of slaving, and if indeed my disclosures should 
 lead to the suppression of the East Coast slave-trade, I would 
 esteem that az a far greater feat than the discovery of all the 
 sourees together. It is awful, but I cannot speak of the 
 slaving for fear of appearing guilty of exaggeration. It is 
 not trading; it is murdering for captives to be made into 
 slaves.” 
 
 Now we know why, in spite of his intense longing for 
 home and loved ones, he turned away from them and pur- 
 sued the duties that lay before him in benighted Africa. 
 We have seen him tried in the old days at St. Paul de Lo 
 anda, and by this time we know him too well to believe 
 that he would have thought of returning home, especially 
 when the fulfillment of his great object seemed so near. 
 Yet what a good excuse he would have had for leaving 
 this unfriendly clime. He was worn down both in mind 
 and body. All his vital force seemed exhausted by the 
 desperate strains that had béen put upon them. He was 
 but a shadow of his former self. It gave him absolute pain 
 to attempt to walk even a mile. Nevertheless, he staid at 
 his post, heroically enduring trials sufficient to have dis- 
 mayed the stoutest heart. 
 
396 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 It was finally agreed that Dr. Livingstone should ac- 
 company Stanley on his return as far as Unyanyembe. 
 There he was to obtain such supplies as had been sent to 
 that place for him, supplement them with a liberal portion 
 of Mr. Stanley’s—which the latter generously insisted that 
 he should take—and remain to perfect further arrange- 
 ments and until the arrival of the men Stanley was to send 
 him from the coast. Stanley had assured him that these 
 men should be both able and trusty, so that there would be 
 no further danger of his being placed at the merey of cow- 
 ards and thieves. 
 
 The parting scene between Stanley and the great travel- 
 er was most pathetic. It is best given in Mr. Stanley’s own 
 feeling words: “ We had a sad breakfast together. I could 
 not eat, my heart was too full; neither did my companion 
 seem to have any appetite. We found something to do 
 which kept us longer together. At eight o’clock I was 
 not gone, and I had thought to be off at 5 a.m. ‘ Doctor, 
 said I, ‘I will leave these two men with you, who will stop 
 to-day and to-morrow with you, for it may be that you have 
 forgotten something in the hurry of my departure. I will 
 halt a day at Tura, on the frontier of Unyamwezi, for your 
 last words and your last wish; and now we must part— 
 there is no help for it. Good-by.’ ‘O, I am coming with 
 you a little way. I must see you off on the road.’ ‘Thank 
 you. Now, my men, Home! Kirangozi, lift the flag, and 
 march!’ The house looked desolate—it faded from our 
 view. Old times, and the memories of my aspirations and 
 kindling hopes, came strong on me. The old hills round 
 about, that I once thought tame and uninteresting, had be- 
 come invested with histories and reminiscences for me. On 
 that burzani I have sat hour after hour, dreaming, and 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 397 
 
 hoping, and sighing. On that col I stood watching the 
 battle and the destruction of Tabora. Under that roof I 
 have sickened and been delirious, and cried out like a child 
 at the fate that threatened my mission. Under that ban- 
 ian-tree lay my dead comrade, poor Shaw! I would have 
 given a fortune to have had him by my side at this time. 
 From that house I started on my journey to Ujiji; to it I 
 returned as to a friend, with a newer and dearer compan- 
 ion; and now I leave it all. Already it all appears like a 
 strange dream. We walked side by side; the men lifted 
 their voices in asong. I took long looks at Livingstone, to 
 impress his features thoroughly upon my memory. ‘The 
 thing is, Doctor, so far as I can understand it, you do not 
 intend to return home until you have satisfied yourself 
 about the “sources of the Nile.” When you have satisfied 
 yourself, you will come home and satisfy others. Is it not 
 ao?’ ‘That is it, exactly. When your men come back I 
 shall immediately start for Ufipa; then, crossing the Rung- 
 wa River, I shall strike south, and round the extremity of 
 Tanganyika. Then a south-east course will take me to 
 Chicumbi’s, on the Luapula. On crossing the Luapula, I 
 shall go direct west to the copper-mines of Katanga. 
 Eight days south of Katanga, the natives declare the fount- 
 ains to be. When I have found them I shall return by 
 Katanga to the under-ground houses of Rua. From the 
 eaverns, ten days north-east will take me to Lake Kamo- 
 londo. I shall he able to travel from the lake, in your boat, 
 up. the river Lufira to Lake Lincoln. Then, coming down 
 again, I can proceed north by the Lualaba, to the fourth 
 lake—which, I think, will explain the whole problem; and 
 I will probably find that it is either Chowambe [Baker’s 
 lake], or Piaggia’s Lake.’ ‘And how long do you think 
 
398 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 this little journey will take you?’ ‘A year and a half, at 
 the farthest, from the day I leave Unyanyembe.’ ‘ Yes, 
 that will do excellently well. Now, dear Doctor, the best 
 friends must part. You have come far enough, let me beg 
 you to turn back.’ ‘ Well, I will say this to you: you have 
 done what few men could do—far better than some great 
 travelers I know. And I am grateful to you for what you 
 have done for me. God guide you safe home, and bless 
 you, my friend.” ‘And may God bring you safely back to us 
 all. My dear friend, farewell!’ ‘ Farewell!’ We wrung 
 each other’s hands, and I had to tear myself away before I 
 unmanned myself; but Susi and Chumah and Hamoydah 
 —the Doctor’s faithful fellows—they must all shake and 
 kiss my hands before I could quite turn away. J betrayed 
 myself! ‘Good-by, Doctor—dear friend!’ ‘Good-by!’ 
 ‘March! Why do you stop? Goon! Are you not going 
 home?’ And my people were driven before me. No more 
 weakness. I shall show them such marching as will make 
 them remember me. In forty days I shall do what took 
 me three months to perform before.” 
 
 The news of Stanley’s finding Livingstone in the very 
 heart of Africa sent a thrill through the whole civilized 
 world. It was indeed most joyful and welcome intelligence, 
 and the manner of its reception, irrespective of persons or 
 of nations, fully demonstrated the firm hold the great ex- 
 plorer had upon the hearts of the people everywhere. But 
 alas! in little more than a year from the time of Stanley’s 
 parting with him at Unyanyembe the world was again 
 startled by the report of the great traveler’s death. This 
 time it seemed too well authenticated to admit of doubt, 
 yet there were those who hoped against hope to the last 
 that the tidings were untrue. He had been reported dead 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 399 
 
 so often, might not this report too bea mistake? In a short 
 while the news of his death was confirmed by a full state- 
 ment of the manner of it, received through official sources, 
 together with the information that the body was even at 
 that time being borne across the country in the direction 
 of the coast by his faithful attendants. 
 
 Of the particulars of Dr. Livingstone’s last illness and 
 death we are enabled to give what is generally conceded to 
 be a most accurate account, thanks to the intelligent nar- 
 ratives rendered by his devoted body-servants, Susi and 
 Chumah, and to the clear and concise style of the manu- 
 scripts of Jacob Wainwright, who was the scribe of the 
 party. 
 
 After Stanley’s departure, Livingstone remained at Un- 
 yanyembe until the arrival of the promised men on the 9th 
 of August, 1872. On the 25th of August the little expedi- 
 tion began its movement, though Livingstone was in no 
 condition to travel and suffered pain at almost. every step 
 The men sent by Stanley proved in every respect as they 
 had been represented, and were indeed a blessing to Liv- 
 ingstone. Among them were John and Jacob Wainwright, 
 who had been educated at the Nassick School at Bombay, 
 and Manwa Lera, a trusty and capable half Arab and half 
 native, who had charge of the caravan. Out of the abun- 
 dance of his grateful heart Livingstone thus wrote to Stan- 
 ley: “I am perpetually reminded that I owe a great deal 
 to you for the men you sent. With one exception the par- 
 ty is working like a machine. I give my orders to Manwa 
 Lera, and never have to repeat them.” O if he could but 
 ‘have had such a company before! 
 
 On the 8th of October they reached Tanganyika. Liv- 
 ingstone’s condition had by this time become exceedingly 
 
=== = === = 
 SZ 2 
 Zz SSS 
 
 2 
 
 — = 
 SSS 
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 SS 
 
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 ZZ 
 
 EF = = === == Ss => 
 
 mi 
 
 il 
 
 Sun 
 
 if 
 nape 
 Wn 
 
 Ai 
 
 LIVINGSTONE CARRIED THROUGH THE SWAMPS. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 40] 
 
 distressing, as he now had dysentery in its most aggravated 
 form. But he kept up bravely, daily endearing himself 
 more and more to his men by the sunny cheerfulness of his 
 temper and the constant display of a patience and resigna- 
 tion that seemed to them most remarkable. After a brief 
 rest at Tanganyika, the march was resumed, and went on 
 steadily, though slowly, with but few interruptions and 
 with very little incident. As the fall advanced the rainy 
 season set in; the streams became so swollen that they were 
 often unfordable, and the swamps were in such a condition 
 that crossing them was at the risk of life; but still the dar- 
 ing company pushed on. By the end of the year they had 
 reached and crossed the river Chambeze. Christmas-day, 
 1872, was spent not far from its banks. Livingstone’s en- 
 try in his journal on this occasion was characteristic: “I 
 thank the good Lord for the good gift of his Son Jesus Christ 
 our Lord.” In the second week of January, 1873, they 
 drew near the south-eastern end of Lake Bangweolo. Here 
 the reign of old winter became more furious. It was un- 
 usual for Livingstone to meet in this climate with such cold 
 and piercing winds, such chilling downpours of rain. The 
 streams became more and more treacherous to cross, the 
 water stretching out for miles and miles into the swamps. 
 Jften his faithful men were for hours up to their chins in 
 he cold and slimy bogs. They would never suffer him to 
 attempt the passages himself, but carried him over—some- 
 times upon their shoulders, sometimes upon their heads, ac- 
 cording to the depth of the current. 
 
 Though suffering greatly, Livingstone had the will to 
 ook about him carefully and to note the different phases 
 f the forests through which they passed. Thus he was 
 ften rewarded by the sight of many beautiful wild flowers, 
 
 26 
 
402 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 which here and there peeped from their nooks in spite of 
 the forbidding weather: ‘‘ marigolds; a white jonquil-look- 
 ing flower without any smell; many orchids; white, yellow, 
 and pink asclepias, with bunches of French-white flowers; 
 clematis—Methonica gloriosa, gladiolus, and blue and deep 
 purple polygamias; grasses with white, starry seed-vessels, 
 and spikelets of brownish red and yellow. Besides these 
 there were beautiful blue flowering bulbs, and new flowers 
 of pretty, delicate form and but little scent.” The weather 
 grew worse and worse; the inhabitants of the villages 
 through which the travelers passed not only refused them 
 food, but purposely misled them as to the route. Hunger 
 in its sharpest form assailed them. For days they were 
 literally without any thing to eat. The men were driven 
 to the verge of despair, while Livingstone’s sufferings were, 
 far beyond any previous experience. But for the real no- 
 bility of character of the men by whom he was now sur- 
 rounded, and the bond of strong affection by which they 
 had become united to him, “ unexampled in the history of 
 difficult expeditions,” every one of them would surely have 
 deserted him and fled. 
 
 All this hard usage was enough to have worn out a con- 
 stitution of iron. It is no wonder, then, that Livingstone, 
 despite his great powers of endurance, succumbed at last, 
 and that the end of his mortal journey was very near. At 
 that critical time, however, upheld by his old heroic spirit, 
 he wrote in his journal: ‘ Nothing earthly will make me 
 give up my work in despair. I encourage myself in the 
 Lord my God, and go forward.” On the 21st of April a 
 change so alarming occurred that even he was warned by 
 it that the work might after all be left unfinished by him. 
 Still, he gave no hint of this to his companions, On that 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 403 
 
 same day he wrote in his journal, in a hand so shaky that 
 it was afterward read with much difficulty: “ Tried to ride, 
 but was forced to lie down, and they carried me back to the 
 village exhausted.” At length, on the 27th day of April, 
 1873, they came to the banks of the Molilamo River, near 
 to the village of a chief by the name of Kalunganjovu. 
 Here outraged nature seems to have resented with grim de- 
 termination the many heavy drafts drawn upon her pre- 
 cious store. Livingstone was unable to bear the torture 
 of proceeding farther. The entry in his journal of this 
 date forms the last lines his fingers ever penned: “ Knocked 
 up quite, and remain—recover—sent to buy milch-goats 
 We are on the banks of the R. Molilamo.” 
 
 From this point we have to rely solely upon the narra 
 tives of his men, for the hand that had traced so many 
 brave and thrilling words, that had recorded with such 
 faithfulness every event of his wonderful and checkered 
 life, was now growing pulseless in the cold clasp of death. 
 It was soon evident to his men that he was very, very ill— 
 though they could not believe that he was nearing the end. 
 Kalunganjovu’s people were very kind to them, the chief 
 being especially solicitous as to the condition of the man of 
 whom he had heard so much and always so well. He at 
 once sent to Livingstone a present of a kid and three bas- 
 kets of ground-nuts. The men were rejoiced when they saw 
 these edibles. Having been many days without nourishing 
 food of any kind, the anxious and devoted fellows believed 
 that Livingstone’s low condition was in a great part due to 
 this lack of sustenance. They prepared the kid for him 
 after the most tempting manner known to their culinary 
 art, and pounded the ground-nuts and baked them into 
 cakes. But after all their kindly efforts he could not par- 
 
1 
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 Tp asain “tines 
 ip ee LSS 
 = 
 
 LIVINGSTONE’S LAST JOURNEY, 
 
 (404) 
 
 4 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 405 
 
 take of a morsel of the food. This greatly distressed and 
 alarmed them, and for the first time they began to entertain 
 serious apprehensions of his condition. 
 
 Livingstone, before he grew so seriously ill, had especial- 
 ly desired to reach the village of a chief by the name of 
 Chitambo, in Tlala, at the southern extremity of Lake Bang- 
 weolo. His men now determined to carry him on to that 
 point if possible. Livingstone himself was anxious that 
 this should be done, and after a day or two of rest expressed 
 his belief that he could stand the journey. Kalunganjovu 
 readily consented to furnish the canoes. He declared that 
 every thing in his power should be done for his friend Liy- 
 ingstone. The arrangements were soon perfected, and the 
 faithful men ready to set out with their precious burden. 
 On Susi’s going to the hut to inform his master that every 
 thing was in readiness for the start, Livingstone called him 
 nearer, and told him that he was quite unable to walk to 
 the door in order to meet the kitanda (the kind of litter on 
 which they had been carrying him). He further suggested 
 that the side of the hut be taken out, as the door was too 
 narrow to admit of the passage of the kitanda. This was 
 done; he was gently lifted from the bed, placed upon the 
 kitanda, and borne out of the village. The most difficult 
 part of the journey now presented itself—that of the pas- 
 sage of the river; for the canoes were not wide enough to 
 allow the kitanda to be deposited at the bottom of any one 
 of them. As to sitting up in the canoe, Livingstone was 
 powerless to do that; and at first there seemed no way of 
 preparing for him to lie down without danger of upsetting 
 the canoes. However, a bed was at last arranged in the 
 bottom of one of them. Then came the painful and diffi- 
 eult task of lifting him from the kitanda to the canoe; but, 
 
406 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 thanks to the skill and gentleness of the men, this was ac- 
 complished, though many groans had been wrung from the 
 sufferer. The river crossed, then came innumerable swamps 
 and plashes. When they reached any thing like a dry spot, 
 the poor man would beg them piteously to lay him down, 
 if only for a few moments. At last Chitambo’s village in 
 lala was reached, and here the men were forced to place 
 him under the eaves of a house during a drizzling rain 
 while a hut was being prepared for him. It was evident, 
 from after circumstances, that this exposure helped to 
 hasten his death. Numbers of Chitambo’s people ap- 
 proached, and, leaning upon their spears, looked with sor- 
 rowful faces upon the pitiable condition of the man whose 
 praises they had heard sounded for so many years. Anon 
 he would open his eyes to behold them, for he was too weak 
 to do more than this or to turn his head feebly from side to 
 side. But the old-time fire of the eyes remained unquenched, 
 although the death-film was creeping on apace. As his gaze 
 rested upon their wondering and pitying faces, every now 
 and then words would escape his lips—words spoken to the 
 glory of that Master whom he had so long and so faithfully 
 served, and from whom he was soon to receive the plaudit, 
 “Well done.” 
 
 At length the hut was finished, and the dying pilgrim 
 was borne to it and laid upon a bed that was raised from 
 the floor by means of poles and covered with soft, thick 
 grass. A fire was then lighted on the outside, nearly op- 
 posite the door, and the boy Majwara, who slept just on 
 the inside of the door, attended to his master’s wants at 
 night. During the day Susi, Chumah, Amoda, Matthew, 
 and the two Wainwrights, remained with him in turn, as 
 was their usual custom. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. AQT 
 
 The next day Chitambo came early to pay his respects 
 to Livingstone. After speaking to the chief for a few mo- 
 ments, Livingstone found himself in such pain that he was 
 obliged to send him away, asking him to call again on the 
 morrow, when he hoped to have the strength to talk to him. 
 The men kept watch in detachments beside the fire in front 
 of his door. 
 
 About eleven o’clock that night Susi, who had gone to 
 his hut to get a little rest, was summoned to his master by 
 the boy Majwara. At the same time mingled sounds of 
 noisy shouts and cries were heard in the distance. “Are 
 those our men making that noise?” Livingstone asked Susi 
 as soon as he stood beside him. ‘No, master,” Susi replied. 
 “Tt is Chitambo’s people frightening away a buffalo from 
 their dura-fields.” A few moments later he said in lower 
 tones, and with his mind evidently wandering, “ Is this the 
 Luapula?” “No, master,” the faithful Susi again made 
 answer. “It is Chitambo’s village, near to the river Mo- 
 lilamo.” He once more lapsed into silence, and Susi thought 
 he wassleeping. But again he appeared to arouse himself, 
 and asked, this time in Suaheli: “Sikun’ gapi kuenda Lu- 
 apula?” [How many days is it to the Luapula?] “Na 
 zani zikutatu, Bwana” [I think it is three days, master], 
 replied Susi. He closed his eyes for a few moments, then 
 opened them quickly, and exclaimed as though in great 
 pain, “O dear! O dear!” In a little while he had dozed 
 
 _off again, and fearing to disturb him Susi withdrew. It 
 was an hour or so later that Majwara came again to sum- 
 mon Susi to his master with the words: “ Bwana wants 
 you, Susi. There is something wrong with him.” On Su- 
 si’s reaching the side of the bed Livingstone spoke to him 
 in a feeble but quite clear voice. He wished to have some 
 
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 408) 
 
 UTVINGSTONE CARRIED INTO THE HUT TO DIE, 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 409 
 
 water boiled. Taking the copper kettle, Susi went to the 
 fire on the outside, and soon returned with the vessel steam- 
 ing. Calling him nearer, Livingstone asked him to bring 
 his medicine-chest, and to hold a candle that was burning 
 some distance away closer to the bed. As Susi did so he 
 noticed that the Doctor could scarcely see, but was grop- 
 ing about in the dark. After much difficulty, even with 
 Susi’s help, Livingstone finally selected the calomel he 
 wanted, which he told Susi to place at his side. He then 
 directed him to pour a little water into a cup and to set 
 another empty one beside it. As the faithful servant did 
 as he was requested, Livingstone glanced up at him grate- 
 fully for a few moments; then, closing his eyes with a si- 
 multaneous expression of the lips that showed he was in 
 «deep pain, he said in a voice that the observant Susi re- 
 marked was much feebler than when he had first addressed 
 him on his entrance to the hut. “That is all right; you 
 can go now.” These were the last words Livingstone was 
 ever heard to speak. 
 
 About four o’clock the next morning—given by some as 
 the first of May, by others as the fourth, though now gen- 
 erally conceded to be the latter date—Majwara came run- 
 ning to Susi once more, this time with the frightened en- 
 treaty: “Come to Bwana, O do please, Susi! Iam afraid! 
 I don’t know if he is alive!” The genuine alarm of the 
 lad caused Susi to run to arouse the other head-men— 
 Chumah, Matthew, Chowpere, the two Wainwrights—and 
 all. The men went to the hut at once, fearing the worst. 
 As they entered their eyes beheld what they were not soon 
 to forget. Livingstone was not lying on the bed, as they 
 had expected, but was kneeling beside it, apparently en- 
 gaged in prayer. For a moment they drew back in rev- 
 
410 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 erent silence, fearing to disturb him. They all believed 
 him alive and engaged in his devotions as usual, and were 
 on the point of retiring from the hut when Majwara, who 
 knew better than they, whispered: “There is something 
 wrong with Bwana, Iam sure. Do not go like this until 
 you have found out what it is. When I lay down he was 
 just as he is now, and it is because I find that he does not 
 move that I fear the worst has happened—that he is dead, 
 the good master is dead!” “ How long has he been like 
 that?” the men questioned, still believing that he was but 
 kneeling at prayer, so natural was his position. “I do not 
 know; for a considerable time, I am sure,” the lad replied. 
 Apprehensive that something was indeed wrong, the men 
 now drew near. The candle that still burned beside the 
 bed, though feebly because of the accumulated drippings 
 of tallow and the sputtering wick, yet shed sufficient light 
 for them to see distinctly every outline of the kneeling fig- 
 ure. He was full upon his knees at the bedside, his body 
 bent only slightly forward, his hands stretched upward 
 over the pillow and clasped, his head upon his hands. 
 Bending down beside him, his attendants listened closely 
 for a few seconds. He was perfectly motionless; there was 
 no sign of breathing. Then one of them, Matthew, bent 
 still nearer and placed his hand upon his master’s cheek. 
 The touch was sufficient, the coldness such as to convey to 
 him at once the painful realization that the spirit had fled, 
 and that his good and noble master was indeed no more. 
 In the still watches of the night, while they slept and took 
 no heed, the dread messenger had come—but, coming, had 
 not found him unprepared. With a superhuman effort he 
 had gathered up the strength that was still left to him, 
 arisen from bed, and placed himself in that reverential at- 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 411 
 
 titude which he had so often declared was the only genuine 
 expression of the devout spirit of prayer—upon his knees. 
 And thus had the messenger found him, as he had so longed 
 and prayed it should find him, as a soldier at watch upon 
 the battlements. Yes, death had indeed come to him, and 
 his toil-worn and weary spirit was rejoicing in the beauties 
 of that land 
 
 Where peaceful rivers, soft and low, 
 Amid the verdant landscape flow. 
 Gone forever now, like a harrowing dream that has been 
 and is no more, was the pain, the suffering—the rackings 
 of the dread fever, the awful horrors of the African swamps, 
 the tortures of the blistering African sun. No more weary 
 miles to go over; no more bleeding feet to drag painfully 
 along where sharp stones cut them and cruel thorns pierced 
 them at almost every step; no more icy floods to breast; no 
 more gnawings of hunger, nor maddening thirst. Rest, 
 rest had come to him at last, and he had met it with a 
 smile upon his face—such a smile as we see upon a tired 
 baby’s face when its weary head sinks to rest within its 
 mother’s arms. 
 Death came; but death could not surprise 
 Him who had watched each day with prayer, 
 Waiting with longing eyes 
 To show his Lord a faithful servant's care. 
 When called the bridegroom and his friends to meet, 
 No oil to buy, no labor to begin; 
 With burning lamp, girt loins, and peace-shod feet, 
 Thus hand in hand, through death he entered in, 
 And found a bridal garment and a seat. 
 Ale had died upon his knees—the last utterances of his pal- 
 lid lips were words of prayer. For whom or for what had 
 those last agonized entreaties gone up? Surely not for him- 
 
412 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 self, since between him and that God whom his eager soul 
 had hastened so gladly to meet all peace had long, long ago 
 been made. Were they, then, for his home, his friends, his 
 dear ones, the loved children his precious wife had left to him? 
 Did he invoke God’s blessings upon the fond faces he was 
 never more to see on earth, the bright eyes that were never 
 more to grow glad at his coming, the tender lips whose last 
 pressure had been laid upon his own? Did he, as in the 
 old days at Linyanti, when he had prayed the Almighty 
 Power to have in his keeping the dear ones so far away, to 
 be “a husband to the widow for Jesus’ sake,” now entreat 
 that same sleepless care, that never-relaxing watchfulness 
 for those so soon to be left fatherless? Ah, surely, surely 
 this he did! But in the stillness of that midnight hour were 
 there not other petitions borne upward on the wings of fer- 
 vent, supplicating prayer? Knowing the object that lay so 
 near his heart, the presence that had walked with him an 
 ever-abiding companion since his earliest manhood’s years; 
 the heroic resolution that had set its firm roots into the 
 very depths of his soul, the steadfast purpose that had nevy- 
 er left him day nor night—well may we answer, Yes, yes! 
 For Africa he lived; for Africa, upheld by the strong faith 
 in and the love of him who is the God of the oppressed 
 and the Redeemer of the penitent, had he worked; and 
 now for Africa, while yet in the vigorous glow of man- 
 hood’s autumn, had his life been given. Alas, alas, that 
 he had been called upon to make the sacrifice when the 
 work was not more than begun! From every shadowed 
 plain, from out the depths of the darkening forests, from 
 even the remotest recesses of the dreary mountain heights, 
 the voices of woe were still calling to him, nor ceased day 
 nor night. Thousands of perishing souls yet wailed out the 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 413 
 
 story of their wrongs, while the iron hand of cruelty and 
 oppression clutched all the more fiendishly about the bleed- 
 ing hearts of those for the redress of whose wrongs the very 
 stones seemed to cry out. O God, was all this to continue? 
 Was there to be no mitigation? Were these miserable 
 creatures to go on perishing, with no hand outstretched to 
 save? No, no! It would all come right in time, and jus- 
 tice be done as only a righteous Avenger could mete it out! 
 And can we doubt that ere his soul quitted its earthly ten- 
 ement he failed to wrestle in prayer with God for the speedy 
 coming of that day? Well, well do we know that this was 
 done, and that David Livingstone, with an undying faith 
 in the righteousness of the cause for which his own life had 
 been given a pure and willing sacrifice, committed the woes 
 of stricken Africa into the hands of Him who has said, 
 “Vengeance is mine; I will repay.” 
 
 Hastily lifting him to the bed, his stricken servants bent 
 over him, trying to divine how to restore him, the while 
 hoping against hope that there might still be some pulse 
 of life remaining. But their efforts were all in vain. Re- 
 alizing this at last, they straightened his limbs upon the 
 bed, folded his hands across his breast, placed upon the 
 body a light covering, and then went out to the fire in 
 front of the hut to consult together as to what further 
 
 should be done. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 DEVOTION OF LIVINGSTONE’S MEN—THE BODY BORNE TO THE 
 COAST—ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND— UNIVERSAL SORROW — OBSE- 
 QUIES AT WESTMINSTER ABBEY—INSCRIPTION UPON THE TOMB. 
 
 EFORE the first flush of the coming dawn had 
 |- streaked the eastern sky, every man connected with 
 the bereaved little company of explorers knew what had 
 happened during the night. The scene was extremely pa- 
 thetic, as in the dim, gray light they gathered about the 
 smoldering fire and talked in low, hushed voices. What 
 shall be done? That was the question that presented it- 
 self to every disturbed mind. Fully they recognized the 
 complications that surrounded them. The dread supersti- 
 tions of most of the African tribes concerning the dead 
 were well known to them. Should Chitambo’s people be- 
 come aware of Livingstone’s death, it was feared that the 
 body would be immediately seized and subjected to some 
 revolting funeral-rite that would either destroy it entirely 
 or—what would be nearly as bad—place it forever beyond 
 the reach of his men. ~ They could not bear to think of such 
 a fate as this for him, the brave and noble master, even 
 though it was but the mortal part of him that remained, 
 the mere shell of what had been. No, no, it must not be! 
 And assembled there about the dying fire, in the struggling 
 light of coming day, those loyal, devoted men took upon 
 themselves a heroic resolution—come what would, the body 
 must be borne to the coast, and thence shipped to his people 
 
 (414) 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 415 
 
 in England! It was a perilous and mighty undertaking; 
 but so inflexible was their resolve, so genuine their devotion, 
 that even when all its intricacies and dangers had been 
 fully weighed not a man of them showed the least sign of 
 shrinking from the ordeal. 
 
 The first consideration was to keep Livingstone’s death a 
 secret from Chitambo’s people; but it might have been 
 known that under the circumstances such a thing was well- 
 nigh impossible. The truth soon leaked out, in spite of the 
 efforts made to conceal it. The men were now in actual 
 fear of disastrous results; but they need not have been, as 
 the sequel proved. Chitambo and his people acted not 
 only with reasonableness, but with great generosity. Chi- 
 tambo declared himself in accord with the men’s desire to 
 bear the body of their master back to the coast, and at once 
 set about furthering their plans. He only asked in return 
 that his people be allowed to show all honor to the dead, 
 as it became them to do on the demise in their midst of so 
 great a man as Livingstone, and to engage in their custom- 
 ary forms of mourning. As none of these rites interfered 
 in any way with the repose of the corpse, the men readily 
 gave their consent. 
 
 Preparations were now entered into to get the body in 
 such a condition as to admit of its being borne on its long 
 journey to the coast. Under Chitambo’s direction a sepa- 
 rate hut was built a short distance from the one in which 
 Livingstone had died. It was so constructed that the en- 
 tire top was open to the air. It was also built of such 
 stout material as would preclude all chance of any wild 
 beast breaking through the walls and thus getting to the 
 body. As soon as the hut was finished the body was borne 
 to it and placed upon a platform that had been erected for 
 
416 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 the purpose. Here the body was disemboweled, and the 
 heart and other internal organs removed. Jacob Wainwright 
 was then requested to read the burial service, which he pro- 
 ceeded to do amidst the sobs of the men who stood around, 
 A quantity of salt was next placed in the body, and the 
 latter was so arranged as to receive the full glare of the 
 sun. These were the only means taken toward the preser- 
 vation of the corpse, save putting a small quantity of bran- 
 dy into the mouth at regular intervals and rubbing some 
 on the hair. Once a day regularly the position of the corpse 
 was changed, and every precaution was taken that it should 
 not be disturbed, the men keeping watch in detachments 
 day and night. No molestation of any kind occurred. 
 
 At the end of the fourteenth day from the first exposure 
 of the corpse to the sun, the men began preparations for 
 starting upon their long journey. The corpse was by this 
 time very well dried, and was believed to be in the right 
 state for preservation. Bending the knees inward; so as to 
 render the package shorter, for the convenience of carry- 
 ing, the men wrapped the body securely about in stout 
 strips of new calico. The next object was to devise safe 
 and convenient means of transportation. As they had 
 neither planks nor tools of any kind, they were at a great 
 loss to know what to do. Finally Susi thought of the bark 
 of the myonga-tree, which could be easily slipped away. 
 One of these trees was then cut, and the bark taken off in 
 the form of a cylinder. In this the body was placed, a 
 piece of coarse sail-cloth being sewed about the whole for 
 further protection. The package thus formed was lashed se- 
 curely to a stout pole, and so arranged that either four or 
 two men could carry the burden. The heart and other inter- 
 nal organs, together with the viscera, had in the meantime 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. A417 
 
 been inclosed in a strong box and buried under a large 
 myula-tree. Jacob Wainwright was then asked to carve 
 an inscription upon the tree, which he did, as follows: “ Dr. 
 Livingstone died on May 4th, 1873.” What was more fit- 
 ting than that his heart should repose in that land over the 
 sin and degradation of which it had cried out again and 
 again, and for the woes of whose stricken people it had 
 well-nigh broken? 
 
 Their arrangements completed, the men began their sad 
 homeward march. It is not our purpose to enter into the 
 full details of this trying and hazardous undertaking. The 
 perils and obstacles were such that none but courageous and 
 devoted hearts could ever have overcome them. At more 
 than one place the men had to give up and lie down through 
 sheer exhaustion. Sickness in its most harro~ing form 
 overtook them. Some of them died. Fierce enemies at- 
 tacked them; time and again they were reduced to the ex- 
 pedient of using trickery to get the corpse through. But 
 be it said to the everlasting praise and honor of these no- 
 ble and trusty spirits—though ignorant and savage ones at 
 best—that they successfully carried through an enterprise 
 which nothing but the high motive-power of love, the in- 
 centive of never-failing loyalty, could ever have accom- 
 plished. O let us not be stinting in one word of commen- 
 dation of an act of heroic devotion that must forever stand 
 out luminous against the background of time—that will 
 cease not to be admired so long as the world’s heart is at- 
 tuned to the chords of pure and generous emotions! They 
 were but savage men; they had been little trained in the 
 ways of civilization. But two or three of them could read, 
 one only could write with understanding. They had nei- 
 ther been born nor cradled in the “lap of romance.” They 
 
 27 
 
418 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 knew nothing of those motives that prompt to heroic action 
 for the mere sake of the world’s plaudits. Their unfettered 
 spirits had never been bound by the glittering cords of ri- 
 otous imagination; they had never dreamed away even the 
 smallest span of their lives under the “ purple skies of fan- 
 cy.” No, none of these; yet there was that within their 
 hearts, deep within their souls, which bade them lay aside 
 all thoughts of self and follow the promptings of a pure and . 
 changeless love. For love they had fcllowed their chosen 
 master through all the terrors of the African swamps; they 
 had with him passed through the horrors of famine and fe- 
 ver; they had kept their faces set in the direction he wished 
 to go when every thing, even outraged Nature itself, was 
 erying out for a return to home and friends: they had at- 
 tended him as tenderly as women in his last illness; they had 
 chosen to meet the possible fury of a whole savage village; 
 and now, for this same unselfish love alone, they had borne his 
 lifeless body through all that tortuous tramp of more than 
 a thousand miles. What more eloquent plea could be urged 
 for those among whom David Livingstone lived and died, 
 and for whom in his last earthly hour agonized prayer as- 
 cended, than the unexampled courage, affection, and devo- 
 tion of these men—themselves but savages, their home the 
 dark, dark continent? * 
 
 The cortege arrived at Bagamoio in February, 1874— 
 nine months from the time of starting out. Here the act- 
 
 * Tt will assuredly interest our readers to learn that the faithful 
 Susi is now attached to one of the University Missions around Lake 
 Nyassa. He is a most efficient and earnest worker. On being bap- 
 tized into full connection with the Church, he took the name of Da- 
 vid, in memory of the noble man who first taught him what it was 
 to be a Christian. 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 419 
 
 ing consul at Zanzibar, Capt. Prideaux, who had previously 
 been notified of Livingstone’s death, met the expedition with 
 a cruiser, to which the remains were soon transferred. From 
 Zanzibar the body was shipped to England, accompanied 
 by the faithful Jacob Wainwright. On the morning oi 
 the 15th ef April, 1874, the “ Malwa,” bearing all that re- 
 mained of the brave and devoted Livingstone, steamed 
 slowly into the London harbor, amidst the drooping of 
 flags, the tolling of bells, and the sad booming of guns. 
 Everywhere tokens of profound sorrow, honor, and respect 
 were manifested. 
 
 It had been decided, long before the “ Malwa” reached 
 English shores, that England would give sepulture to the 
 remains of her greatest missionary and most distinguished 
 explorer nowhere else than in her renowned Westminster 
 Abbey. The body lay in state until the 18th of April, by 
 which time arrangements had been perfected for one of the 
 most imposing public funerals that England has ever seen. 
 The account which follows, taken from one of the leading 
 newspapers of the day, gives a full and feeling description 
 of the obsequies: 
 
 “Tnside the Abbey, an immense congregation has as- 
 sembled to wait for the arrival of the illustrious dead. 
 The transepts are crowded with ticket-holders. Notable 
 among the throng are the African travelers, who constitute 
 such a natural guard of honor for this dead man. Fore- 
 most among them, in right of gallant special service, and 
 nearest to Livingstone’s head, stands Stanley—sun-tanned 
 anew from Ashantee—whose famous march of relief gives 
 America the full right to celebrate at this moment, as we 
 know she is doing, simultaneously with England, the obse- 
 quies of the explorer, But for Stanley, Livingstone would 
 
420 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 have died long back, without aid or news from us; but near 
 him are Grant, the discoverer along with Speke* of the 
 Nyanza; Young, who was with Livingstone in old days, 
 and who sailed the Nyassa Lake and the Shire River in 
 quest of him; Oswell, tanned and grizzled with hunting 
 and exploring under an African sun; and beside them Rig- 
 by, and Moffat, and Webb, the godfather of Lualaba, and 
 the faithful friend who buried Mrs. Livingstone in the sad 
 day of separation of husband and wife; Colonel Shelley, of 
 Lake Ngami; Waller, of the Zambesi; Galton, Reade— 
 what a band of Africani! Such a gathering of sunburned 
 visages and far-traveled men was never seen before; and 
 indeed the list might be lengthened with the names of a 
 hundred other famous travelers present, who listen, with 
 wistful looks, round their great dead chieftain, while Tal- 
 lis’s hymn is being sung, after the lesson read by Canon 
 Conway. It is a well-known hymn—one which sings of 
 ultimate rest after wandering, the only rest for all toils and 
 travels, commencing— 
 ‘O God of Bethel, by whose hand 
 The people still are fed, 
 Who through this weary pilgrimage 
 Hast all our fathers led’ 
 
 “After the conclusion of this hymn, in which the congre- 
 gation joined with much effect, the coffin is borne down the 
 choir into the center of the nave, where, toward the west- 
 ern end, the grave has been prepared. Here also among 
 
 * Nearly ten years prior to his death, Livingstone made this entry 
 in his journal respecting his lamented friend and predecessor Capt. 
 Speke: “23 Sept., 1864—Went to the funeral of poor Capt. Speke, 
 who when out shooting on the 15th, the day I arrived at Bath, was 
 killed by the accidental discharge of his gun.” 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 421 
 
 the dead lying around are ancient far-traveled worthies— 
 companionable ashes for those which are now to be con- 
 signed to the same unbroken and majestic rest. The pall 
 is withdrawn, and the polished oak coffin is prepared for 
 lowering into the dark cavity which opens so narrowly and 
 so abruptly in the Abbey pavement, while the choir sings, 
 ‘Man that is born of a woman,’ to Croft’s setting, and then 
 the tender strains of Purcell’s ‘Thou knowest, Lord.’ This 
 is the very last that will be seen of ‘this our dear brother;’ 
 and now indeed strong men are fain to bend their heads, 
 and sobs, not from women only, mingle with the alternate 
 sighing and rejoicing of the solemn music. The dizzy edges 
 of the clear-story, eighty feet overhead, are crowded with 
 people looking down from that perilous eminence upon the 
 throng around the grave, and shadows are seen at many of 
 the Abbey windows of others peering through at the ‘ last 
 scene of all.’ As the precious burden descends, the inscrip- 
 tion on the plate may be seen: 
 Davip LIVINGSTONE, 
 Born at Blantyre, Lanarkshire, Scotland, 
 19th March, 1813. 
 Died at Hala, Central Africa, 
 4th May, 1873. 
 
 “The service draws to its end with the ‘ Forasmuch’ and 
 the following prayers, read in a clear, sustained voice of 
 the deepest solemnity and feeling by Dean Stanley; and 
 then once more the organ speaks the unspeakable—as mu- 
 sic only can—sounding forth ‘I heard a voice from heaven.’ 
 But the very finest musical passage of all comes last, in the 
 beautiful anthem of Handel, ‘ His body rests in peace, but 
 his name liveth evermore.’ 
 
 “ Last of all, there rains down upon the lid of Living- 
 
429 LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
 
 stone’s coffin a bright and fragrant shower of wreaths and 
 farewell flowers from a hundred loving hands; and each of 
 those present takes a long parting glance at the great tray- 
 eler’s resting-place, and at the oaken coffin, buried in the 
 spring blossoms and palms and garlands, wherein lies ‘as 
 much as could die’ of the good, great-hearted, loving, fear- 
 less, and faithful David Livingstone.” 
 
 The marble slab that now marks Livingstone’s resting- 
 place in the Abbey bears the following inscription: 
 
 Brought by faithful hands 
 over land and sea, 
 here rests 
 Davin LIVINGSTONE, 
 Missionary, Traveler, Philanthropist. 
 Born March 19, 1813, 
 At Blantyre, Lanarkshire. 
 Died May 4, 1873, 
 At Chitambo’s village, Ilala. 
 
 For thirty years his life was spent in an unwearied effort to evangel- 
 ize the native races, to explore the undiscovered secrets, 
 and abolish the desolating siave-trade of Central 
 Africa, where with his last words he wrote: 
 
 “All I can say in my solitude is, May Heaven’s rich blessing 
 come down on every one—American, English, or Turk— 
 who will help to heal this open sore of the world.” 
 
LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 423 
 
 He who works in the field of the world 
 Must work with a faith sublime ; 
 For the seed he sows must lie in the earth 
 And wait for Gods good time. 
 But nevertheless the harvest is sure, 
 Though the sower the sheaves may not ses; 
 For never a word was spoken for Him 
 But will ring through eternity. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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