LONG and perilous days those were which were
passed by Stanley
and his caravan. Yet they illustrate one of the most
important
lessons of life, which is that no one is to make more
than a day's
journey at a time and that the most practical method
of overcoming
difficulties is to take them and master them one by one.
If Stanley had
been less resolute, if he had been easily discouraged,
if he were one of
the men who make a sudden start and then as suddenly
halt, if he had
not been a kind of Hercules in body and in soul, if he
had possessed less
of the push and enterprise which always go with a great
character, the
world would never have rung with acclaim at his achievements.
It was a new experience to him, that of traversing the
wilds of the
Dark Continent, quelling mutiny among his men, meeting
unfriendly
chiefs who were given to rapacious extortion, and plunging
on through
jungles, thickets and pathless tracts,- untrodden and
unmarked, yet he
had gone with the definite purpose of finding Livingstone,
and, as we
read the story of his successful search, we are quite
ready to believe that
he would sooner have laid down his life than failed in
his undertaking.
Livingstone was a man nearly sixty years old; Stanley
had on his side
all the advantages of youth. He had been toughened by
early adversity,
by travelling in various climes, exposure to all winds
and all weathers,
and it may be doubted whether any other man in our time
has been so
well equipped with courage, latent resources, command
of men, sturdy
heroism and self-sacrifice as he was for the almost miraculous
task con-
fided to him by his wealthy and enterprising patron,
Mr. Bennett.
In reading of his adventures and successes, we are quite
apt to lose
sight of certain great results which must inevitably
follow from his jour-
neys in Africa. We see only the lost explorer, Livingstone,
admired
and beloved by half the world, his terrible sufferings
and the slow wast-
ing of his life. But this man, this hero to whom so many
eyes are
turned, this great explorer, who, like Stanley, was much
more than a
mere adventurer, is only one figure in the vivid scene
which passes before
our eyes. It will not do to limit our thought to either
of these men or
to both of them.
Two Famous Travellers.
Livingstone had forsaken his early home and his fatherland
; all the
hardship that comes to one by being in an uncivilized
country fell to his
lot ; the wife who had shared his fortunes, and quite
as often, his misfor-
tunes, had been rudely torn from his side; the vast benefit
to savage
races which she as well as her illustrious husband was
capable of impart-
ing was suddenly lost. The beautiful and touching reference
of Living-
stone to her grave, which has been related, is something
that must move
the heart of every reader.
Stanley's journeys were free from some of the incidents
which are so
thrilling in those of the one he was trying to find,
yet others fell to his
lot with which Livingstone was unacquainted. And so this
man stands^
out in strong proportions, with a most remarkable individuality
of his
own ; a man raised up for a certain work, peculiar in
his make-up, en-
dowed for adventure and exploit, and ages hence history
will turn to him
and write some of its most eloquent pages.
Still it is true that the great interest of African exploration
does not
gather around either of these men, or both of them, except
as they are
the instruments for penetrating a continent hitherto
dark and unknown ;
for what they achieved in bringing the dark races of
Africa under the
full light of modern civilization and Christianity is,
after all, the finest
thing to be noted. Whoever studies history knows very
well that every
man is building higher than he thinks, accomplishing
more than he
imagines, casting off results that are left behind him
as he crowds on,
while his unconscious influence and the incidental effects
of his life and
undertakings are such as we have no scales for weighing.
We closed the last chapter by leaving Stanley within a
short distance
of Ujiji, where he had every reason to believe he would
find Livingstone.
Here one part of our narrative of African exploration
culminates, and
unwonted interest attends it. After having been lost
half a dozen years,
Livingstone is to be met by a brother white man, who
will assure him
that the world is interested in his welfare. It will
be to him a surprise,
and a piece of intelligence as gratifying as it is unexpected.
It will con-
vince him that his heroic sacrifices are not forgotten,
and will be treas-
ured and commemorated after he is gone.
In his thrilling account of the meeting with Livingstone,
Stanley
says : We push on rapidly, lest the news of our coming
might reach the
people of 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 crossed. 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
hundred yards
from us.
At this grand moment we do not think of the hundreds of
miles we
have marched, or of the hundreds of hills that we have
ascended and de-
scended, or of the many forests we have traversed, or
of the jungles and
thickets that annoyed us, or of the fervid salt plains
that blistered our
feet, or of the hot sun that scorched us, nor of the
dangers and difficul-
ties, now happily surmounted !
One, Two, Three,— Fire !
At last the sublime hour had arrived ; — our dreams, our
hopes, and
•anticipations are now about to be realized ! Our hearts
and our feehngs
are with our eyes, as we peer into the palms and try
to make out in
which hut or house lives the " white man with the gray
beard " we had
already heard about. .
" Unfurl the flags, and load your guns ! "
" We will, master, we will, master ! " respond the men
eagerly.
" One, two, three, — fire ! "
A volley from nearly fifty guns roars like a salute from
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
let the Zan-
zibar 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. You have said to me often that you could smell
the fish of the
Tanganyika — I can smell the fish of the Tanganyika now.
There are fish,
and beer, and a long rest waiting for you. March ! "
Before we had gone a hundred yards our repeated 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
immediately
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
harbor of Zanzibar,
and they were soon heard welcoming the beautiful flag
with cries of
" Bindera Kisungu ! " — a white man's flag ! " Bindera
Merikani ! " — the
American flag !
Joyous Welcome.
Then we were surrounded by them and were almost deafened
with the
shouts of " Yambo, yambo, bana ! Yambo, bana ! Yambo,
bana ! " To
each and all of my men the welcome was given.
We were 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 this greeting in the midst of such
a crowd of black
people, I turn sharply around in search of the man, and
see him at my
side, with the blackest of faces, but animated and joyous
— a man dressed
in a long white shirt, with a turban of American sheeting
around his
woolly head, and I ask:
"Who the mischief are you?"
"I am Susi, the servant of Dr. Livingstone," said he,
smihng, and
'showing a gleaming row of teeth.
"What! Is Dr. Livingstone here?"
"Yes, sir."
"In this village?"
"Yes, sir."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure, sure, sir. Why I leave him just now."
"Good morning sir," said another voice.
"Hallo," 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 Wekotani?"
"Yes, sir."
"And is the doctor well?"
" Not very well, sir."
" Where has he been so long?"
" In Manyuema."
" Now, you Susi, run 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 stag-
gered.
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 SaH, Sayd bin Majid, Abidbin Suliman, Mohammed
bin
Gharib, and others — had gathered 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 kir-
angozi was out of the ranks, holding his flag aloft,
and Selim said to me,
"I see the doctor, sir. Oh, what an old man! He has got
a white
beard." And I — what would I not have given for a bit
of friendly wil-
derness, where, unseen, I 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 exciting feelings that were well-nigh
uncontrollable.
My heart beats fast, but I must not let my face betray
my emotions, lest
it shall detract from the dignity of a white man appearing
under such ex-
traordinary circumstances.
The Travellers Meet.
So I did that which 1 thought was most dignified. I pushed
back the
crowds, and, passing from the rear, walked down a living
avenue of peo-
ple, until I came in front of the semicircle of Arabs,
before which stood
the " white man with a grey beard."
As I advanced slowly towards him I noticed he was pale,
that he looked
wearied and wan, that he had grey whiskers and moustache,
that he wore
a bluish cloth cap with a faded gold band on a red ground
round it, and
that he had on a red-sleeved waistcoat, and a pair of
grey tweed trousers.
I would have run to him, only I was a coward in the presence
of such a
mob — would have embraced him, but that I did not know
how he would
receive it ; so I did what moral cowardice and false
pride suggested was
the best thing — walked deliberately to him, took ofl"
my hat, and said :
" Dr. Livingstone, I presume ? "
" Yes," said he, with a kind, cordial smile, lifting his
cap slightly.
I replaced my hat on my head, and he replaced his cap,
and we both
grasped hands. I then said aloud :
" I thank God, Doctor, I have been permitted to see you."
He answered, " I feel thankful that I am here to welcome
you.'*
Wliat News After Six Years.
I turned to the Arabs, took off my hat to them in response
to the
saluting chorus of " Yambos " I received, and the doctor
introduced them
to me by name. Then, oblivious of the crowds, oblivious
of the men
who shared with me my dangers, we — Livingstone and I
— turned our
facts towards his house. He pointed to the veranda, or
rather, mud plat-
form, under the broad overhanging eaves ; he pointed
to his own particu-
lar seat, which I saw his age and- experience in Africa
had suggested,
namely, a straw mat, with a goatskin over it, and another
skin nailed
against the wall to protect his back from contact with
the cold mud. I
protested against taking this seat, which so much more
befitted him
than me, but the doctor would not yield: I must take
it.
We were seated — the doctor and I — with our backs to
the wall. ? The
Arabs took seats on our left. More than a thousand natives
were in our
front, filling the whole square densely, indulging their
curiosity, and dis-
cussing the fact of two white men meeting at Ujiji —
one just come from
Manyuema, in the west, the other from Unyanyembe, in
the east.
Conversation began. What about? I declare I have forgotten.
Oh!
we mutually asked questions of one another, such as:
"How did you come here?" and "Where have you been all
this long
time? — the world has believed you to be dead." Yes,
that was the way
it began; but whatever the doctor informed me, and that
which I com-
municated to him, I cannot correctly report, for I found
myself gazing at
him, conning the wonderful figure and face of the man
at whose side I
now sat in Central Africa.
Marvellous History of Deeds.
Every hair of his head and beard, every wrinkle of his
face, the wanness
of his features, and the slightly wearied look he wore,
were all imparting
intelligence to me — the knowledge I craved for so much
ever since I
heard the word., " Take what you want, but find Livingstone."
What I
saw was deeply interesting intelligence to me, and unvarnished
truth. I
was listening and reading at the same time. What did
these dumb wit-
nesses relate to me?
Oh, reader, had you been at my side on this day in Ujiji,
how elo-
quently could be told the nature of this man's work!
Had you been
there but to see and hear! His lips gave me the details;
lips that never
lie. I cannot repeat what he said; I was too much engrossed
to take my
note-book out, and begin to stenograph his story. He
had so much to
say that he began at the end, seemingly oblivious of
the fact that five or
six years had to be accounted fo"-. But his account was
oozing out; it
was growing fast into grand proportions — into a most
marvellous history
of deeds.
The Arabs rose up, with a dehcacy I approved, as if they
intuitively
knew that we ought to be left to ourselves.
I sent Bombay with them to give them the news they also
wanted so
much to know about the affairs at Unyanyembe. Sayd bin
Majid was
the father of the gallant young man whom I saw at Masangi,
and who
fought with me at Zimbizo, and who soon afterwards was
killed by Mi-
rambo's Ruga-Ruga in the forest of Wilyankuru ; and,
knowing that I
had been there, he earnestly desired to hear the tale
of the fight ; but
they had all friends at Unyanyembe, and it was but natural
that they
should be anxious to hear of what concerned them.
Letters A Year Old.
After giving orders to Bombay and Asmani for the provisioning
of the
men of the Expedition, I called " Kaif-Halek," or " How-do-ye-do,"
and
introduced him to Dr. Livingstone as one of the soldiers
in charge of
certain goods left at Unyanyembe, whom I had compelled
to accompany
me to Ujiji, that he might deliver in person to his master
the letter-bag
with which he had been intrusted. This was that famous
letter-bag
marked "Nov. 1st, 1870," which was now delivered into
the doctor's
hands 365 days after it left Zanzibar! How long, I wonder,
had it re-
mained at Unyanyembe had I not been despatched into Central
Africa in
search of the great traveller ?
The doctor kept the letter-bag on his knee, then, presently,
opened it,
looked at the letters contained there, and read one or
two of his chil-
dren's letters, his face in the meanwhile lighting up.
He asked me to tell him the news. " No, doctor," said
I, " read your
letters first, which I am sure you must be impatient
to read."
"Ah," said he," I have waited years for letters, and I
have been taught
patience. I can surely afford to wait a few hours longer.
No, tell me
the general news : how is the world getting along ?"
" You probably know much already. Do you know that the
Suez
Canal is a fact — is opened, and a regular trade carried
on between Europe
and India through it ?"
" I did not hear about the opening of it. Well, that is
grand news! What else ?"
Shortly I found myself enacting the part of an annual
periodical to
him. There was no need of exaggeration — or any penny-a-line
news, or
of any sensationalism. The world had witnessed and experienced
much
the last few years. The Pacific Railroad had been completed
; Grant
had been elected President of the United States; Egypt
had been flooded
with savans ; the Cretan rebellion had terminated ; a
Spanish revolution
iiad driven Isabella from the throne of Spain, and a
Regent had been ap-
pointed ; General Prim was assassinated ; a Castelar
had electrified
Europe with his advanced ideas upon the liberty of worship;
Prussia
had humbled Denmark, and annexed Schleswig-Holstein,and
her armies
were now around Paris; the "man of Destiny" was a prisoner
at
Whelmshohe ; the Queen of Fashion and the Empress of
the French was
a fugitive; and the child born in the purple had lost
forever the Imperial
crown intended for his head ;' the Napoleon dynasty was
extinguished by
the Prussians, Bismarck and Von Moltke ; and France,
the proud em-
pire, was humbled to the dust.
What could a man have exaggerated of these facts ? What
a budget
of news it was to one who had emerged from the depths
of the primeval
forests of Manyuema ! The reflection of the dazzling
light of civiliza-
tion was cast on him while Livingstone was thus listening
in wonder to
one of the most exciting pages of history ever repeated.
How the puny
deeds of barbarism paled before these! Who could tell
under what new
phases of uneasy life Europe was laboring even then,
while we, two of
her lonely children, rehearsed the tale of her late woes
and glories ?
More worthily, perhaps, had the tongue of a lyric Demodocus
recounted
them; but, in the absence of the poet, the newspaper
correspondent per-
formed his part as well and truthfully as he could.
What was thought by Livingstone himself about the arrival
of Stanley,
which had probably prolonged his sinking life, is fully
set forth in a
letter to Mr. Bennett, who had sent Stanley into the
dark wilderness of
Africa. This letter deserves to be put on record, and
especially here in
the history of those marvellous achievements in Africa,
which have awak-
ened the interest of the civilized world.
Ujiji, ON Tanganyika, East Africa,
November, 1871.
James Gordon Bennett, Jr., Esq.
My dear Sir, — It is in general somewhat difficult to
write to one we
have never seen — it feels so much like addressing an
abstract idea — but
the presence of your representative, Mr. H. M. Stanley,
in this distant
region takes away the strangeness I should otherw i.^e
have felt, and in
writing to thank you for the extreme kindness that prompted
you to
send him, I feel quite at home.
If I explain the forlorn condition in which he found me
you will easily
perceive that I have good reason to use very strong expressions
of grat-
itude. I came to Ujiji off a tramp of between four hundred
and five
hundred miles, beneath a blazing vertical sun, having
been baffled, wor-
ried, defeated and forced to return, when almost in sight
of the end of
the geographical part of my mission, by a number of half-caste
Moslem
slaves sent to me from Zanzibar, instead of men. The
sore heart made
still sorer by the woeful sights I had seen of man's
inhumanity to man
racked and told on the bodily frame, and depressed it
beyond measure.
I thought that I was dying on my feet. It is not too
much to say that
almost every step of the weary sultry way was in pain,
and I reached
Ujiji a mere ruckle of bones.
There I found that some five hundred pounds' sterling
worth of goods
which I had ordered from Zanzibar had unaccountably been
entrusted
to a drunken half-caste Moslem tailor, who, after squandering
them for
sixteen months on the way to Ujiji, finished up by selling
off all that re-
mained for slaves and ivory for himself He had " divined
" on the Koran
and found that I was dead. He had also written to the
Governor of
Unyanyembe that he had sent slaves after me to Manyuema,
who returned
and reported my decease, and begged permission to sell
off the few goods
that his drunken appetite had spared.
He, however, knew perfectly well, from men who had seen
me, that I
was alive, and waiting for the goods and men ; but as
for morality, he is
evidently an idiot, and there being no law here except
that of the dagger
or musket, I had to sit down in great weakness, destitute
of everything
save a few barter cloths and beads, which I had taken
the precaution to
leave here in case of extreme need.
The near prospect of beggary among Ujijians made me miserable.
I could not despair, because I laughed so much at a friend
who, on
reaching the mouth of the Zambezi, said that he was tempted
to despair
on breaking the photoc^raph of his wife. We could have
no success after
that. Afterward the idea of despair had to me such a
strong smack of
the ludicrous that it was out of the question.
Well, when I had got to about the lowest verge, vague
rumors of an
English visitor reached me. I thought of myself as the
man who went
down from Jerusalem to Jericho ; but neither priest,
Levite, nor Samari-
tan could possibly pass my way. Yet the good Samaritan
was close at
hand, and one of my people rushed up at the top of his
speed, and, in
great excitement, gasped out, "An Englishman coming!
I see him !"and
off he darted to meet him.
An American flag, the first ever seen in these parts,
at the head of a
caravan, told me the nationahty of the stranger.
I am as cold and non-demonstrative as we islanders are
usually reputed
to be ; but your kindness made my frame thrill. It was,
indeed, over-
whelming, and I said in my soul, " Let the richest blessings
descend from
the Highest on you and yours !"
The news Mr. Stanley had to tell was thrilling. The mighty
polit-
ical changes on the Continent ; the success of the Atlantic
cables ; the
election of General Grant, and many other topics riveted
my attention for
days together, and had an immediate and beneficial effect
on my health.
I had been without news from home for years save what
I could glean
from a few " Saturday Reviews '' and " Punch " of 1868.
The appetite
revived, and in a week I began to feel strong again.
Mr. Stanley brought a most kind and encouraging despatch
from Lord
Clarendon (whose loss I sincerely deplore), the first
I have received from
the Foreign Office since 1866, and information that the
British Govern-
ment had kindly sent a thousand pounds sterling to my
aid. Up to his
arrival I was not aware of any pecuniary aid. I came
unsalaried, but
this want is now happily repaired, and I am anxious that
you and all my
friends should know that, though uncheered by letter,
I have stuck to
the task which my friend Sir Roderick Murchison set me
with " John
Bullish " tenacity, believing that all would come right
at last.
The watershed of South Central Africa is over seven hundred
miles in
length. The fountains thereon are almost innumerable
— that is, it would
take a man's lifetime to count them. From the watershed
they converge
into four large rivers, and these again into two mighty
streams in the
great Nile valley, which begins in ten degrees to twelve
degrees south
latitude. It was long ere light dawned on the, ancient
problem and gave
me a clear idea of the drainage. I had to feel my way,
and every step of
the way, and was, generally, groping in the dark — for
who cared where
the rivers ran ? " We drank our fill and let the rest
run by."
The Portuguese who visited Casembe asked for slaves and
ivory, and
heard of nothing else. I asked about the waters, questioned
and cross-
questioned, until I was almost afraid of being set down
as afflicted with
hydrocephalus.
My last work, in which I have been greatly hindered from
want of
suitable attendants, was following the central line of
drainage down
through the country of the cannibals, called Manyuema,
or, shortly,
Manyema. This line of drainage has four large lakes in
it. The fourth
I was near when obliged to turn. It is from one to three
miles broad,
and never can be reached at any point, or at any time
of the year. Two
western drains, the Lufira, or Bartle Frere's River,
flow into it at Lake
Kamolondo. Then the great River Lomane flows through
Lake Lincoln
into it too, and seems to form the western arm of the
Nile, on which
Petherick traded.
Now, I knew about six hundred miles of the watershed,
and unfortu-
nately the seventh hundred is the most interesting of
the whole; for in it,
if I am not mistaken, four fountains arise from an earthen
mound, and the
last of the four becomes, at no great distance off, a
large river.
Two of these run north to Egypt, Lufira and Lomame, and
two run
south into inner Ethiopia, as the Leambaye, or Upper
Zambezi, and the
Kaful.
Are not these the sources of the Nile mentioned by the
Secretary of
Minerva, in the city of Sais, to Herodotus ?
I have heard of them so often, and at great distances
off, that I cannot
doubt their existence, and in spite of the sore longing
for home that
seizes me every time I think of my family, I wish to
finish up by their
rediscovery.
Five hundred pounds sterling worth of goods have again
unaccount-
ably been entrusted to slaves, and have been over a year
on the way,
instead of four months. I must go where they lie at your
expense, ere I
can put the natural completion to my work.
I conclude by again thanking you most cordially for your
great gener-
osity, and am, Gratefully yours,
David Livingstone.
Help in this Hour of Need.
At the time, when reduced almost to. death's door by sickness
and
disappointment, the assistance thus brought to Dr. Livingstone
was of
inestimable worth. What might have been his fate had
he not been
relieved, it is impossible to say. The society of his
new friend, the letters
from home, the well-cooked meal which the doctor was
able to enjoy,
and the champagne quaffed out of silver goblets, and
brought carefully
those hundreds of miles for that special object, had
a wonderfully exhila-
rating influence.
Some days were spent at Ujiji, during which the doctor
continued to
regain health and strength. Future plans were discussed,
and his pre-
vious adventures described. The longer the intercourse
Stanley enjoyed
with Livingstone, the more he rose in his estimation.
He formed, indeed, a high estimate of his character, though,
he fully
believed, a just one.
" Dr. Livingstone," he says, " is about sixty years old.
His hair has a
brownish color, but here and there streaked with grey
lines over the
temples. His beard and moustache are very grey. His eyes,
which are
hazel, are remarkably bright : he has a sight keen as
a hawk's. His
frame is a little over the ordinary height ; when walking,
he has a firm
but heavy tread, like that of an over-worked or fatigued
man. I never
observed any spleen or misanthrophy about him.
A Remarkable Man.
" He has a fund of quiet humor, which he exhibits at all
tirnes when he
is among friends. During the four months I was with him
I noticed
him every evening making most careful notes. His maps
evince great
care and industry. He is sensitive on the point of being
doubted or
criticized. His gentleness never forsakes him, his hopefulness
never
deserts him ; no harassing anxiety or distraction of
mind, though sepa-
rated from home and kindred, can make him complain. He
thinks all
will come out right at last, he has such faith inthe
goodness of Provi-
dence. Another thing which especially attracted my attention
was his
wonderfully retentive memory. His religion is not of
the theoretical
kind, but it is constant, earnest, sincere, practical
; it is neither demon-
strative nor loud, but manifests itself in a quiet, practical
Way, and is
always at work. Ih him religion exhibits its loveliest
features; it governs
his conduct not only towards his servants, but towards
the natives. I
observed that universal respect was, paid to him; even
the Mahomme-
dans never passed his hou^ without calling to pay their
compliments,
and to say : * The blessing of God rest on you ! ' Every
Sunday morn-
ing he gathers his little flock around him, and reads
prayers and a chap-
ter from the Bible in a natural, unaffected, and sincere
tone, and after-
wards delivers a short address inthe Kisawahili language,
about the sub-
ject read to them, which is listened to with evident
interest and attention.
" His consistent energy is native to him and his race.
He is a very
fine example of the perseverance, doggedness, and tenacity
which char-
acterizes the Anglo-Saxon spirit. His ability to withstand
the climate
is due not only to the happy constitution with which
he was born, but to
the strictly temperate life he has ever led,
" It is a principle with him to do well what he undertakes
to do, and,
in the consciousness that he is doing it, despite the
yearning for his
home, which is sometimes overpowering, he finds to a
certain extent con-
tentment, if not happiness.
" He can be charmed with the primitive simplicity of Ethiopia's
dusky
children, with whom he has spent so many years of his
life. He has a
sturdy faith in their capability — sees virtue in them,
where others see
nothing but savagery; and wherever he has gone among
them, he has
sought to ameliorate the condition of a people who are
apparently for-
gotten of God and Christian men."
In another place Stanley says : " Livingstone followed
the dictates of
duty. Never was such a willing slave to that abstract
virtue. His incli-
nations impell him home, the fascinations of which require
the sternest
resolution to resist. With every foot of new ground he
travelled over
he forged a chain of sympathy which should hereafter
bind the Christian
nations in bonds of love and charity to the heathen of
the African Tropics.
If we were able to complete this chain of love by actual
discovery, and,
by a description of them, to embody such people and nations
as still live
in darkness, so as to attract the good and charitable
of his own land to
bestir themselves for their redemption and salvation,
this Livingstone
would consider an ample reward.
"Surely, as the sun shines on both Christian and infidel,
civilized and
pagan, the day of enlightenment will come; and though
the apostle of
Africa may not behold it himself, nor we younger men,
nor yet our chil-
dren, the hereafter will see it, and posterity will recognize
the daring
pioneer of its civilization."
Yes, and Stanley might have added : with his enlarged
and far-seeing
mind, this is what encourages Livingstone to persevere
in his task to do
what he knows no other man can do as well. It might be
far pleasanter
to tell crowded congregations at home about the wrongs
of the sons and
daughters of Africa, but, with the spirit of a true apostle,
he remains
among those whose wrongs it is the ardent desire of his
soul to right,
that he may win their love and confidence, and open up
the way by which
others may with greater ease continue the task he has
commenced.
CHAPTER XV.
LIVINGSTONE'S LAST JOURNEY.
Continued
in ERBzine 6099_15
