The meeting at Exeter Hall was held to inaugurate the Niger Expedition. It was on this occasion that Samuel Wilberforce became known as a great platform orator[16]. It must have been pleasant to Livingstone in after-years to recall the circumstance when he became a friend and correspondent of the Bishop of Oxford.

[Footnote 16: Life of Bishop Wilberforce, vol. i, p. 160.]

Notwithstanding the dear postage of the time, Livingstone wrote regularly to his friends, but few of his letters have survived. One of the few, dated 5th May, 1839, is addressed to his sister, and in it he says that there had been some intention of sending him abroad at once, but that he was very desirous of getting more education. The letter contains very little news, but is full of the most devout aspirations for himself and exhortations to his sister. Alluding to the remark of a friend that they should seek to be "uncommon Christians, that is, eminently holy and devoted servants of the Most High," he urges:

"Let us seek—and with the conviction that we cannot do without it—that all selfishness be extirpated, pride banished, unbelief driven from the mind, every idol dethroned, and everything hostile to holiness and opposed to the divine will crucified; that 'holiness to the Lord' may be engraven on the heart, and evermore characterize our whole conduct. This is what we ought to strive after; this is the way to be happy; this is what our Saviour loves—entire surrender of the heart. May He enable us by his Spirit to persevere till we attain it! All comes from Him, the disposition to ask as well as the blessing itself.

"I hope you improve the talents committed to you whenever there is an opportunity. You have a class with whom you have some influence. It requires prudence in the way of managing it; seek wisdom from above to direct you; persevere—don't be content with once or twice recommending the Saviour to them—again and again, in as kind a manner as possible, familiarly, individually, and privately, exhibit to them the fountain of happiness and joy, never forgetting to implore divine energy to accompany your endeavors, and you need not fear that your labor will be unfruitful. If you have the willing mind, that is accepted; nothing is accepted if that be wanting. God desires that. He can do all the rest. After all, He is the sole agent, for the 'willing mind' comes alone from Him. This is comforting, for when we think of the feebleness and littleness of all we do, we might despair of having our services accepted, were we not assured that it is not these God looks to, except in so far as they are indications of the state of the heart."

Dr. Livingstone's sisters have a distinct recollection that the field to which the Directors intended to send him was the West Indies, and that he remonstrated on the ground that he had spent two years in medical study, but in the West Indies, where there were regular practitioners, his medical knowledge would be of little or no avail. He pleaded with the Directors, therefore, that he might be allowed to complete his medical studies, and it was then that Africa was provisionally fixed on as his destination. It appears, however, that he had not quite abandoned the thought of China. Mr. Moir, his former pastor, writes that being in London in May, 1839, he called at the Mission House to make inquiries about him. He asked whether the Directors did not intend to send him to the East Indies, where the field was so large and the demand so urgent, but he was told that though they esteemed him highly, they did not think that his gifts fitted him for India, and that Africa would be a more suitable field.

On returning to London, Livingstone devoted himself with special ardor to medical and scientific study. The church with which he was connected was that of the late Rev. Dr. Bennett, in Falcon Square. This led to his becoming intimate with Dr. Bennett's son, now the well-known J. Risdon Bennett, M.D., LL.D., F.R.S., and President of the Royal College of Physicians, London. The friendship continued during the whole of Dr. Livingstone's life. From some recollections with which Dr. Bennett has kindly furnished us we take the following:

"My acquaintance with David Livingstone was through the London Missionary Society, when, having offered himself to that Society, he came to London to carry on those medical and other studies which he had commenced in Glasgow. From the first, I became deeply interested in his character, and ever after maintained a close friendship with him. I entertained toward him a sincere affection, and had the highest admiration of his endowments, both of mind and heart, and of his pure and noble devotion of all his powers to the highest purposes of life. One could not fail to be impressed with his simple, loving, Christian spirit, and the combined modest, unassuming, and self-reliant character of the man.

"He placed himself under my guidance in reference to his medical studies, and I was struck with the amount of knowledge that he had already acquired of those subjects which constitute the foundation of medical science. He had, however, little or no acquaintance with the practical departments of medicine, and had had no opportunities of studying the nature and aspects of disease. Of these deficiencies he was quite aware, and felt the importance of acquiring as much practical knowledge as possible during his stay in London. I was at that time physician to the Aldersgate Street Dispensary, and was lecturing at the Charing Cross Hospital on the practice of medicine, and thus was able to obtain for him free admission to hospital practice as well as attendance on my lectures and my practice at the dispensary. I think that I also obtained for him admission to the opthalmic hospital in Moorfields. With these sources of information open to him, he obtained a considerable acquaintance with the more ordinary forms of disease, both surgical and medical, and an amount of scientific and practical knowledge that could not fail to be of the greatest advantage to him in the distant regions to which he was going, away from all the resources of civilization. His letters to me, and indeed all the records of his eventful life, demonstrate how great to him was the value of the medical knowledge with which he entered on missionary life. There is abundant evidence that on various occasions his own life was preserved through his courageous and sagacious application of his scientific knowledge to his own needs; and the benefits which he conferred on the natives to whose welfare he devoted himself, and the wonderful influence which he exercised over them, were in no small degree due to the humane and skilled assistance which he was able to render as a healer of bodily disease. The account which he gave me of his perilous encounter with the lion, and the means he adopted for the repair of the serious injuries which he received, excited the astonishment and admiration of all the medical friends to whom I related it, as evincing an amount of courage, sagacity, skill, and endurance that have scarcely been surpassed in the annals of heroism."

Another distinguished man of science with whom Livingstone became acquainted in London, and on whom he made an impression similar to that made on Dr. Bennett, was Professor Owen. Part of the little time at his disposal was devoted to studying the series of comparative anatomy in the Hunterian Museum, under Professor Owen's charge. Mr. Owen was interested to find that the Lanarkshire student was born in the same neighborhood as Hunter[17], but still more interested in the youth himself and his great love of natural history. On taking leave, Livingstone promised to bear his instructor in mind if any curiosity fell in his way. Years passed, and as no communication reached him, Mr. Owen was disposed to class the promise with too many others made in the like circumstances. But on his first return to this country Livingstone presented himself, bearing the tusk of an elephant with a spiral curve. He had found it in the heart of Africa, and it was not easy of transport. "You may recall," said Professor Owen, at the Farewell Festival in 1858, "the difficulties of the progress of the weary sick traveler on the bullock's back. Every pound weight was of moment; but Livingstone said, 'Owen shall have this tusk,' and he placed it in my hands in London." Professor Owen recorded this as a proof of Livingstone's inflexible adherence to his word. With equal justice we may quote it as a proof of his undying gratitude to any one that had shown him kindness.

[Footnote 17: Not in the same parish, as stated afterward by Professor Owen. Hunter was born in East Kilbride, and Livingstone in Blantyre. The error is repeated in notices of Livingstone in some other quarters.]

On all his fellow-students and acquaintances the simplicity, frankness, and kindliness of Livingstone's character made a deep impression. Mr. J.S. Cook, now of London, who spent three months with him at Ongar, writes: "He was so kind and gentle in word and deed to all about him that all loved him. He had always words of sympathy at command, and was ready to perform acts of sympathy for those who were suffering." The Rev. G.D. Watt, a brother Scotchman, who went as a missionary to India, has a vivid remembrance of Livingstone's mode of discussion; he showed great simplicity of view, along with a certain roughness or bluntness of manner; great kindliness, and yet great persistence in holding to his own ideas. But none of his friends seem to have had any foresight of the eminence he was destined to attain. The Directors of the Society did not even rank him among their ablest men. It is interesting to contrast the opinion entertained of him then with that expressed by Sir Bartle Frere, after much personal intercourse, many years afterward. "Of his intellectual force and energy," wrote Sir Bartle, "he has given such proof as few men could afford. Any five years of his life might in any other occupation have established a character and raised for him a fortune such as none but the most energetic of our race can realize[18]."

[Footnote 18: Good Words, 1874, p. 285.]

But his early friends were not so much at fault. Livingstone was somewhat slow of maturing. If we may say so, his intellect hung fire up to this very time, and it was only during his last year in England that he came to his intellectual manhood, and showed his real power. His very handwriting shows the change; from being cramped and feeble it suddenly becomes clear, firm, and upright, very neat, but quite the hand of a vigorous, independent man.

Livingstone's prospects of getting to China had been damaged by the Opium War; while it continued, no new appointments could be made, even had the Directors wished to send him there. It was in these circumstances that he came into contact with his countryman, Mr. (now Dr.) Moffat, who was then in England, creating much interest in his South African mission. The idea of his going to Africa became a settled thing, and was soon carried into effect.

"I had occasion" (Dr. Moffat has informed us) "to call for some one at Mrs. Sewell's, a boarding-house for young missionaries in Aldersgate street, where Livingstone lived. I observed soon that this young man was interested in my story, that he would sometimes come quietly and ask me a question or two, and that he was always desirous to know where I was to speak in public, and attended on these occasions. By and by he asked me whether I thought he would do for Africa. I said I believed he would, if he would not go to an old station, but would advance to unoccupied ground, specifying the vast plain to the north, where I had sometimes seen, in the morning sun, the smoke of a thousand villages, where no missionary had ever been. At last Livingstone said: 'What is the use of my waiting for the end of this abominable opium war? I will go at once to Africa.' The Directors concurred, and Africa became his sphere."

It is no wonder that all his life Livingstone had a very strong faith in Providence, for at every turn of his career up to this point, some unlooked-for circumstance had come in to give a new direction to his history. First, his reading Dick's Philosophy of a Future State, which led him to Christ, but did not lead him away from science; then his falling in with Gutzlaff's Appeal, which induced him to become a medical missionary; the Opium War, which closed China against him; the friendly word of the Director who procured for him another trial; Mr. Moffat's visit, which deepened his interest in Africa; and finally, the issue of a dangerous illness that attacked him in London—all indicated the unseen hand that was preparing him for his great work.

The meeting of Livingstone with Moffat is far too important an event to be passed over without remark. Both directly and indirectly Mr. Moffat's influence on his young brother, afterward to become his son-in-law, was remarkable. In after-life they had a thorough appreciation of each other. No family on the face of the globe could have been so helpful to Livingstone in connection with the great work to which he gave himself. If the old Roman fashion of surnames still prevailed, there is no household of which all the members would have been better entitled to put AFRICANUS after their name. The interests of the great continent were dear to them all. In 1872, when one of the Search Expeditions for Livingstone was fitted out, a grandson of Dr. Moffat, another Robert Moffat, was among those who set out in the hope of relieving him; cut off at the very beginning, in the flower of his youth, he left his bones to moulder in African soil.

The illness to which we have alluded was an attack of congestion of the liver, with an affection of the lungs. It seemed likely to prove fatal, and the only chance of recovery appeared to be a visit to his home, and return to his native air. In accompanying him to the steamer, Mr. Moore found him so weak that he could scarcely walk on board. He parted from him in tears, fearing that he had but a few days to live. But the voyage and the visit had a wonderful effect, and very soon Livingstone was in his usual health. The parting with his father and mother, as they afterward told Mr. Moore, was very affecting. It happened, however, that they met once more. It was felt that the possession of a medical diploma would be of service, and Livingstone returned to Scotland in November, 1840, and passed at Glasgow as Licentiate of the Faculty of Physicians and Surgeons. It was on this occasion he found it so inconvenient to have opinions of his own and the knack of sticking to them. It seemed as if he was going to be rejected for obstinately maintaining his views in regard to the stethoscope; but he pulled through. A single night was all that he could spend with his family, and they had so much to speak of that David proposed they should sit up all night. This, however, his mother would not hear of. "I remember my father and him," writes his sister, "talking over the prospects of Christian missions. They agreed that the time would come when rich men and great men would think it an honor to support whole stations of missionaries, instead of spending their money on hounds and horses. On the morning of 17th November we got up at five o'clock. My mother made coffee. David read the 121st and 135th Psalms, and prayed. My father and he walked to Glasgow to catch the Liverpool steamer." On the Broomielaw, father and son looked for the last time on earth on each other's faces. The old man walked back slowly to Blantyre, with a lonely heart no doubt, yet praising God. David's face was now set in earnest toward the Dark Continent.



CHAPTER III.

FIRST TWO YEARS IN AFRICA.

A.D. 1841-1843.

His ordination—Voyage out—At Rio de Janeiro—At the Cape—He proceeds to Kuruman—Letters—Journey of 700 miles to Bechuana country—Selection of site for new station—Second excursion to Bechuana country—Letter to his sister—Influence with chiefs—Bubi—Construction of a water-dam—Sekomi—Woman seized by a lion—The Bakaa—Sebehwe—Letter to Dr. Risdon Bennett—Detention at Kuruman—He visits Sebehwe's village—Bakhatlas—Sechele, chief of Bakwains—Livingstone translates hymns—Travels 400 miles on oxback—Returns to Kuruman—Is authorized to form new station—Receives contributions for native missionary—Letters to Directors on their Mission policy—He goes to new station—Fellow-travelers—Purchase of site—Letter to Dr. Bennett—Desiccation of South Africa—Death of a servant, Sehamy—Letter to his parents.

On the 20th November, 1840, Livingstone was ordained a missionary in Albion Street Chapel, along with the Rev. William Ross, the service being conducted by the Rev. J.J. Freeman and the Rev. R. Cecil. On the 8th of December he embarked on board the ship "George," under Captain Donaldson, and proceeded to the Cape, and thence to Algoa Bay. On the way the ship had to put in at Rio de Janeiro, and he had a glance at Brazil, with which he was greatly charmed. It was the only glimpse he ever got of any part of the great continent of America. Writing to the Rev. G.D. Watt, with whom he had become intimate in London, and who was preparing to go as a missionary to India, he says:

"It is certainly the finest place I ever saw; everything delighted me except man.... We lived in the home of an American Episcopal Methodist minister—the only Protestant missionary in Brazil.... Tracts and Bibles are circulated, and some effects might be expected, were a most injurious influence not exerted by European visitors. These alike disgrace themselves and the religion they profess by drunkenness. All other vices are common in Rio. When will the rays of Divine light dispel the darkness in this beautiful empire? The climate is delightful. I wonder if disabled Indian missionaries could not make themselves useful there."

During the voyage his chief friend was the captain of the ship. "He was very obliging to me," says Livingstone, "and gave me all the information respecting the use of the quadrant in his power, frequently sitting up till twelve o'clock at night for the purpose of taking lunar observations with me." Thus another qualification was acquired for his very peculiar life-work. Sundays were not times of refreshing, at least not beyond his closet. "The captain rigged out the church on Sundays, and we had service; but I being a poor preacher, and the chaplain addressing them all as Christians already, no moral influence was exerted, and even had there been on Sabbath, it would have been neutralized by the week-day conduct. In fact, no good was done." Neither at Rio, nor on board ship, nor anywhere, could good be done without the element of personal character. This was Livingstone's strong conviction to the end of his life.

In his first letter to the Directors of the London Missionary Society he tells them that he had spent most of his time at sea in the study of theology, and that he was deeply grieved to say that he knew of no spiritual good having been done in the case of any one on board the ship. His characteristic honesty thus showed itself in his very first dispatch.

Arriving at the Cape, where the ship was detained a month, he spent some time with Dr. Philip, then acting as agent for the Society, with informal powers as superintendent. Dr. Philip was desirous of returning home for a time, and very anxious to find some one to take his place as minister of the congregation of Cape Town, in his absence. This office was offered to Livingstone, who rejected it with no little emphasis—not for a moment would he think of it, nor would he preach the gospel within any other man's line. He had not been long at the Cape when he found to his surprise and sorrow that the missionaries were not all at one, either as to the general policy of the mission, or in the matter of social intercourse and confidence. The shock was a severe one; it was not lessened by what he came to know of the spirit and life of a few—happily only a few—of his brethren afterward; and undoubtedly it had an influence on his future life. It showed him that there were missionaries whose profession was not supported by a life of consistent well-doing, although it did not shake his confidence in the character and the work of missionaries on the whole. He saw that in the mission there was what might be called a colonial side and a native side; some sympathizing with the colonists and some with the natives. He had no difficulty in making up his mind between them; he drew instinctively to the party that were for protecting the natives against the unrighteous encroachments of the settlers.

On leaving the ship at Algoa Bay, he proceeded by land to Kuruman or Lattakoo, in the Bechuana country, the most northerly station of the Society in South Africa, and the usual residence of Mr. Moffat, who was still absent in England. In this his first African journey the germ of the future traveler was apparent. "Crossing the Orange River," he says, "I got my vehicle aground, and my oxen got out of order, some with their heads where their tails should be, and others with their heads twisted round in the yoke so far that they appeared bent on committing suicide, or overturning the wagon.... I like travelling very much indeed. There is so much freedom connected with our African manners. We pitch our tent, make our fire, etc., wherever we choose, walk, ride, or shoot at abundance of all sorts of game as our inclination leads us; but there is a great drawback: we can't study or read when we please. I feel this very much. I have made but very little progress in the language (can speak a little Dutch), but I long for the time when I shall give my undivided attention to it, and then be furnished with the means of making known the truth of the gospel." While at the Cape, Livingstone had heard something of a fresh-water lake ('Ngami) which all the missionaries were eager to see. If only they would give him a month or two to learn the colloquial language, he said they might spare themselves the pains of being "the first in at the death." It is interesting to remark further that, in this first journey, science had begun to receive its share of attention. He is already bent on making a collection for the use of Professor Owen[19], and is enthusiastic in describing some agatized trees and other curiosities which he met with.

[Footnote 19: This collection never reached its destination.]

Writing to his parents from Port Elizabeth, 19th May, 1841, he gives his first impressions of Africa. He had been at a station called Hankey:

"The scenery was very fine. The white sand in some places near the beach drifted up in large wreaths exactly like snow. One might imagine himself in Scotland were there not a hot sun overhead. The woods present an aspect of strangeness, for everywhere the eye meets the foreign-looking tree from which the bitter aloes is extracted, popping up its head among the mimosa bushes and stunted acacias. Beautiful humming-birds fly about in great numbers, sucking the nectar from the flowers, which are in great abundance and very beautiful. I was much pleased with my visit to Hankey.... The state of the people presents so many features of interest, that one may talk about it and convey some idea of what the Gospel has done. The full extent of the benefit received can, however, be understood only by those who witness it in contrast with other places that have not been so highly favored. My expectations have been far exceeded. Everything I witnessed surpassed my hopes, and if this one station is a fair sample of the whole, the statements of the missionaries with regard to their success are far within the mark. The Hottentots of Hankey appear to be in a state similar to that of our forefathers in the days immediately preceding the times of the Covenanters. They have a prayer-meeting every morning at four o'clock, and well attended. They began it during a visitation of measles among them, and liked it so much that they still continue."

He goes on to say that as the natives had no clocks or watches, mistakes sometimes occurred about ringing the bell for this meeting, and sometimes the people found themselves assembled at twelve or one o'clock instead of four. The welcome to the missionaries (their own missionary was returning from the Cape with Livingstone) was wonderful. Muskets were fired at their approach, then big guns; and then men, women, and children rushed at the top of their speed to shake hands and welcome them. The missionary had lost a little boy, and out of respect each of the people had something black on his head. Both public worship and family worship were very interesting, the singing of hymns being very beautiful. The bearing of these Christianized Hottentots was in complete contrast to that of a Dutch family whom he visited as a medical man one Sunday. There was no Sunday; the man's wife and daughters were dancing before the house, while a black played the fiddle.

His instructions from the Directors were to go to Kuruman, remain there till Mr. Moffat should return from England, and turn his attention to the formation of a new station farther north, awaiting more specific instructions, He arrived at Kuruman on the 31st July, 1841, but no instructions had come from the Directors; his sphere of work was quite undetermined, and he began to entertain the idea of going to Abyssinia. There could be no doubt that a Christian missionary was needed there, for the country had none; but if he should go, he felt that probably he would never return. In writing of this to his friend Watt, he used words almost prophetic: "Whatever way my life may be spent so as but to promote the glory of our gracious God, I feel anxious to do it.... My life, may be spent as profitably as a pioneer as in any other way."

In his next letter to the London Missionary Society, dated Kuruman, 23d September, 1841, he gives his impressions of the field, and unfolds an idea which took hold of him at the very beginning, and never lost its grip. It was, that there was not population enough about the South to justify a concentration of missionary labor there, and that the policy of the Society ought to be one of expansion, moving out far and wide wherever there was an opening, and making the utmost possible use of native agency, in order to cultivate so wide a field. In England he had thought that Kuruman might be made a great missionary institute, whence the beams of divine truth might diverge in every direction, through native agents supplied from among the converts; but since he came to the spot he had been obliged to abandon that notion; not that the Kuruman mission had not been successful, or that the attendance at public worship was small, but simply because the population was meagre, and seemed more likely to become smaller than larger. The field from which native agents might be drawn was thus too small. Farther north there was a denser population. It was therefore his purpose, along with a brother missionary, to make an early journey to the interior, and bury himself among the natives, to learn their language, and slip into their modes of thinking and feeling. He purposed to take with him two of the best qualified native Christians of Kuruman, to plant them as teachers in some promising locality; and in case any difficulty should arise about their maintenance, he offered, with characteristic generosity, to defray the cost of one of them from his own resources.

Accordingly, in company with a brother missionary from Kuruman, a journey of seven hundred miles was performed before the end of the year, leading chiefly to two results: in the first place, a strong confirmation of his views on the subject of native agency; and in the second place, the selection of a station, two hundred and fifty miles north of Kuruman, as the most suitable for missionary operations. Seven hundred miles traveled over more Africano seemed to indicate a vast territory; but on looking at it on the map, it was a mere speck on the continent of heathenism. How was that continent ever to be evangelized? He could think of no method except an extensive method of native agency. And the natives, when qualified, were admirably qualified. Their warm, affectionate manner of dealing with their fellow-men, their ability to present the truth to their minds freed from the strangeness of which foreigners could not divest it, and the eminent success of those employed by the brethren of Griqua Town, were greatly in their favor. Two natives had likewise been employed recently by the Kuruman Mission, and these had been highly efficient and successful. If the Directors would allow him to employ more of these, conversions would increase in a compound ratio, and regions not yet explored by Europeans would soon be supplied with the bread of life.

In regard to the spot selected for a mission, there were many considerations in its favor. In the immediate neighborhood of Kuruman the chiefs hated the gospel, because it deprived them of their supernumerary wives. In the region farther north, this feeling had not yet established itself; on the contrary, there was an impression favorable to Europeans, and a desire for their alliance. These Bechuana tribes had suffered much from the marauding invasions of their neighbors; and recently, the most terrible marauder of the country, Mosilikatse, after being driven westward by the Dutch Boers, had taken up his abode on the banks of a central lake, and resumed his raids, which were keeping the whole country in alarm. The more peaceful tribes had heard of the value of the white man, and of the weapons by which a mere handful of whites had repulsed hordes of marauders. They were therefore disposed to welcome the stranger, although this state of feeling could not be relied on as sure to continue, for Griqua hunters and individuals from tribes hostile to the gospel were moving northward, and not only circulating rumors unfavorable to missionaries, but by their wicked lives introducing diseases previously unknown. If these regions, therefore, were to be taken possession of by the gospel, no time was to be lost. For himself, Livingstone had no hesitation in going to reside in the midst of these savages, hundreds of miles away from civilization, not merely for a visit, but, if necessary, for the whole of his life.

In writing to his sisters after this journey (8th December, 1841), he gives a graphic account of the country, and some interesting notices of the people:

"Janet, I suppose, will feel anxious to know what our dinner was. We boiled a piece of the flesh of a rhinoceros which was toughness itself, the night before. The meat was our supper, and porridge made of Indian corn-meal and gravy of the meat made a very good dinner next day. When about 150 miles from home we came to a large village. The chief had sore eyes; I doctored them, and he fed us pretty well with milk and beans, and sent a fine buck after me as a present. When we had got about ten or twelve miles on the way, a little girl about eleven or twelve years of age came up and sat down under my wagon, having run away for the purpose of coming with us to Kuruman. She had lived with a sister whom she had lately lost by death. Another family took possession of her for the purpose of selling her as soon as she was old enough for a wife. But not liking this, she determined to run away from them and come to some friends near Kuruman. With this intention she came, and thought of walking all the way behind my wagon. I was pleased with the determination of the little creature, and gave her some food. But before we had remained long there, I heard her sobbing violently, as if her heart would break. On looking round, I observed the cause. A man with a gun had been sent after her, and he had just arrived. I did not know well what to do now, but I was not in perplexity long, for Pomare, a native convert who accompanied us, started up and defended her cause. He being the son of a chief, and possessed of some little authority, managed the matter nicely. She had been loaded with beads to render her more attractive, and fetch a higher price. These she stripped off and gave to the man, and desired him to go away. I afterward took measures for hiding her, and though fifty men had come for her, they would not have got her."

The story reads like an allegory or a prophecy. In the person of the little maid, oppressed and enslaved Africa comes to the good Doctor for protection; instinctively she knows she may trust him; his heart opens at once, his ingenuity contrives a way of protection and deliverance, and he will never give her up. It is a little picture of Livingstone's life.

In fulfillment of a promise made to the natives in the interior that he would return to them, Livingstone set out on a second tour into the interior of the Bechuana country on 10th February, 1842. His objects were, first, to acquire the native language more perfectly, and second, by suspending his medical practice, which had become inconveniently large at Kuruman, to give his undivided attention to the subject of native agents. He took with him two native members of the Kuruman church, and two other natives for the management of the wagon.

The first person that specially engaged his interest in this journey was a chief of the name of Bubi, whose people were Bakwains. With him he stationed one of the native agents as a teacher, the chief himself collecting the children and supplying them with food. The honesty of the people was shown in their leaving untouched all the contents of his wagon, though crowds of them visited it. Livingstone was already acquiring a powerful influence, both with chiefs and people, the result of his considerate and conciliatory treatment of both. He had already observed the failure of some of his brethren to influence them, and his sagacity had discerned the cause. His success in inducing Bubi's people to dig a canal was contrasted in a characteristic passage of a private letter, with the experience of others.

"The doctor and the rainmaker among these people are one and the same person. As I did not like to be behind my professional brethren, I declared I could make rain too, not, however, by enchantments like them, but by leading out their river for irrigation. The idea pleased mightily, and to work we went instanter. Even the chief's own doctor is at it, and works like a good fellow, laughing heartily at the cunning of the 'foreigner' who can make rain so. We have only one spade, and this is without a handle; and yet by means of sticks sharpened to a point we have performed all the digging of a pretty long canal. The earth was lifted out in 'gowpens' and carried to the huge dam we have built in karosses (skin cloaks), tortoise-shells, or wooden bowls. We intended nothing of the ornamental in it, but when we came to a huge stone, we were forced to search for a way round it. The consequence is, it has assumed a beautifully serpentine appearance. This is, I believe, the first instance in which Bechuanas have been got to work without wages. It was with the utmost difficulty the earlier missionaries got them to do anything. The missionaries solicited their permission to do what they did, and this was the very way to make them show off their airs, for they are so disobliging; if they perceive any one in the least dependent upon them, they immediately begin to tyrannize. A more mean and selfish vice certainly does not exist in the world. I am trying a different plan with them. I make my presence with any of them a favor, and when they show any impudence, I threaten to leave them, and if they don't amend, I put my threat into execution. By a bold, free course among them I have had not the least difficulty in managing the most fierce. They are in one sense fierce, and in another the greatest cowards in the world. A kick would, I am persuaded, quell the courage of the bravest of them. Add to this the report which many of them verily believe, that I am a great wizard, and you will understand how I can with ease visit any of them. Those who do not love, fear me, and so truly in their eyes am I possessed of supernatural power, some have not hesitated to affirm I am capable of even raising the dead! The people of a village visited by a French brother actually believed it. Their belief of my powers, I suppose, accounts, too, for the fact that I have not missed a single article either from the house or wagon since I came among them, and this, although all my things lay scattered about the room, while crammed with patients."

It was unfortunate that the teacher whom Livingstone stationed with Bubi's people was seized with a violent fever, so that he was obliged to bring him away. As for Bubi himself, he was afterward burned to death by an explosion of gunpowder, which one of his sorcerers was trying, by means of burnt roots, to un-bewitch.

In advancing, Livingstone had occasion to pass through a part of the great Kalahari desert, and here he met with Sekomi, a chief of the Bamangwato, from whom also he received a most friendly reception. The ignorance of this tribe he found to be exceedingly great:

"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 the idea of superiority. Hence they do not hesitate to apply the name to their chiefs. I was every day shocked by being addressed by that title, 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 detoriation of our species. It is indeed a mournful truth that man has become like the beasts that perish."

The place was greatly infested by lions, and during Livingstone's visit an awful occurrence took place that made a great impression on him:

"A woman was actually devoured in her garden during my visit, and that so near the town that I had frequently walked past it. It was most affecting to hear the cries of the orphan children of this woman. During the whole day after her death the surrounding rocks and valleys rang and re-echoed with their bitter cries. I frequently thought as I listened to the loud sobs, painfully indicative of the sorrows of those who have no hope, that if some of our churches could have heard their sad wailings, it would have awakened the firm resolution to do more for the heathen than they have done."

Poor Sekomi advanced a new theory of regeneration which Livingstone was unable to work out:

"On one occasion Sekomi, having sat by me in the hut for some time in deep thought, at length addressing me by a pompous title said, 'I wish you would change my heart. Give me medicine to change it, for it is proud, proud and angry, angry always.' I lifted up the Testament and was about to tell him of the only way in which the heart can be changed, but he interrupted me by saying, 'Nay, I wish to have it changed by medicine, to drink and have it changed at once, for it is always very proud and very uneasy, and continually angry with some one.' He then rose and went away."

A third tribe visited at this time was the Bakaa, and here, too, Livingstone was able to put in force his wonderful powers of management. Shortly before, the Bakaa had murdered a trader and his company. When Livingstone appeared their consciences smote them, and, with the exception of the chief and two attendants, the whole of the people fled from his presence. Nothing could allay their terror, till, a dish of porridge having been prepared, they saw Livingstone partake of it along with themselves without distrust. When they saw him lie down and fall asleep they were quite at their ease. Thereafter he began to speak to them:

"I had more than ordinary pleasure in telling these murderers of the precious blood which cleanseth from all sin. I bless God that He has conferred on one so worthless the distinguished privilege and honor of being the first messenger of mercy that ever trod these regions. Its being also the first occasion on which I had ventured to address a number of Bechuanas in their own tongue without reading it, renders it to myself one of peculiar interest. I felt more freedom than I had anticipated, but I have an immense amount of labor still before me, ere I can call myself a master of Sichuana. This journey discloses to me that when I have acquired the Batlapi, there is another and perhaps more arduous task to be accomplished in the other dialects, but by the Divine assistance I hope I shall be enabled to conquer. When I left the Bakaa, the chief sent his son with a number of his people to see me safe part of the way to the Makalaka."

On his way home, in passing through Bubi's country, he was visited by sixteen of the people of Sebehwe, a chief who had successfully withstood Mosilikatse, but whose cowardly neighbors, under the influence of jealousy, had banded together to deprive him of what they had not had the courage to defend. Consequently he had been driven into the sandy desert, and his object in sending to Livingstone was to solicit his advice and protection, as he wished to come out, in order that his people might grow corn, etc. Sebehwe, like many of the other people of the country, had the notion that if he got a single white man to live with him, he would be quite secure. It was no wonder that Livingstone early acquired the strong conviction that if missions could only be scattered over Africa, their immediate effect in promoting the tranquillity of the continent could hardly be over-estimated.

We have given these details somewhat fully, because they show that before he had been a year in the country Livingstone had learned how to rule the Africans. From the very first, his genial address, simple and fearless manner, and transparent kindliness formed a spell which rarely failed. He had great faith in the power of humor. He was never afraid of a man who had a hearty laugh. By a playful way of dealing with the people, he made them feel at ease with him, and afterward he could be solemn enough when the occasion required. His medical knowledge helped him greatly; but for permanent influence all would have been in vain if he had not uniformly observed the rules of justice, good feeling, and good manners. Often ha would say that the true road to influence was patient continuance in well-doing. It is remarkable that, from the very first, he should have seen the charm of that method which he employed so successfully to the end.

In the course of this journey, Livingstone was within ten days of Lake 'Ngami, the lake of which he had heard at the Cape, and which he actually discovered in 1849; and he might have discovered it now, had discovery alone been his object. Part of his journey was performed on foot, in consequence of the draught oxen having become sick:

"Some of my companions," he says in his first book, "who had recently joined us, and did not know that I understood a little of their speech, were overheard by me discussing my appearance and powers: 'He is not strong, he is quite slim, and only appears stout because he puts himself in those bags (trousers); he will soon knock up.' This caused my Highland blood to rise, and made me despise the fatigue of keeping them all at the top of their speed for days together, and until I heard them expressing proper opinions of my pedestrian powers."

We have seen how full Livingstone's heart was of the missionary spirit; how intent he was on making friends of the natives, and how he could already preach in one dialect, and was learning another. But the activity of his mind enabled him to give attention at the same time to other matters. He was already pondering the structure of the great African Continent, and carefully investigating the process of desiccation that had been going on for a long time, and had left much uncomfortable evidence of its activity in many parts. In the desert, he informs his friend Watt that no fewer than thirty-two edible roots and forty-three fruits grew without cultivation. He had the rare faculty of directing his mind at the full stretch of its power to one great object, and yet, apparently without effort, giving minute and most careful attention to many other matters,—all bearing, however, on the same great end.

A very interesting letter to Dr. Risdon Bennett, dated Kuruman, 18th December, 1841, gives an account of his first year's work from the medical and scientific point of view. First, he gives an amusing picture of the Bechuana chiefs, and then some details of his medical practice:

The people are all under the feudal system of government, the chieftainship is hereditary, and although the chief is usually the greatest ass, and the most insignificant of the tribe in appearance, the people pay a deference to him which is truly astonishing.... I feel the benefit often of your instructions, and of those I got through your kindness. Here I have an immense practice. I have patients now under treatment who have walked 130 miles for my advice; and when these go home, others will come for the same purpose. This is the country for a medical man if he wants a large practice, but he must leave fees out of the question! The Bechuanas have a great deal more disease than I expected to find among a savage nation; but little else can be expected, for they are nearly naked, and endure the scorching heat of the day and the chills of the night in that condition. Add to this that they are absolutely omnivorous. Indigestion, rheumatism, opthalmia are the prevailing diseases.... Many very bad cases were brought to me, sometimes, when traveling, my wagon was quite besieged by their blind and halt and lame. What a mighty effect would be produced if one of the seventy disciples were among them to heal them all by a word! The Bechuanas resort to the Bushmen and the poor people that live in the desert for doctors. The fact of my dealing in that line a little is so strange, and now my fame has spread far and wide. But if one of Christ's apostles were here, I should think he would be very soon known all over the continent to Abyssinia. The great deal of work I have had to do in attending to the sick has proved beneficial to me, for they make me speak the language perpetually, and if I were inclined to be lazy in learning it, they would prevent me indulging the propensity. And they are excellent patients, too, besides. There is no wincing; everything prescribed is done instanter. Their only failing is that they become tired of a long course. But in any operation, even the women sit unmoved. I have been quite astonished again and again at their calmness. In cutting out a tumor, an inch in diameter, they sit and talk as if they felt nothing. 'A man like me never cries,' they say, 'they are children that cry.' And it is a fact that the men never cry. But when the Spirit of God works on their minds they cry most piteously. Sometimes in church they endeavor to screen themselves from the eyes of the preacher by hiding under the forms or covering their heads with their karosses as a remedy against their convictions. And when they find that won't do, they rush out of the church and run with all their might, crying as if the hand of death were behind them. One would think, when they got away, there they would remain; but no, there they are in their places at the very next meeting. It is not to be wondered at that they should exhibit agitations of body when the mind is affected, as they are quite unaccustomed to restrain their feelings. But that the hardened beings should be moved mentally at all is wonderful indeed. If you saw them in their savage state you would feel the force of this more.... N.B.—I have got for Professor Owen specimens of the incubated ostrich in abundance, and am waiting for an opportunity to transmit the box to the college. I tried to keep for you some of the fine birds of the interior, but the weather was so horribly hot they were putrid in a few hours.

When he returned to Kuruman in June, 1842, he found that no instructions had as yet come from the Directors as to his permanent quarters. He was preparing for another journey when news arrived that contrary to his advice, Sebehwe had left the desert where he was encamped, had been treacherously attacked by the chief Mahura, and that many of his people, including women and children, had been savagely murdered. What aggravated the case was that several native Christians from Kuruman had been at the time with Sebehwe, and that these were accused of having acted treacherously by him. But now no native would expose himself to the expected rage of Sebehwe, so that for want of attendants Livingstone could not go to him. He was obliged to remain for some months about Kuruman, itinerating to the neighboring tribes, and taking part in the routine work of the station: that is to say preaching, printing, building a chapel at an out-station, prescribing for the sick, and many things else that would have been intolerable, he said, to a man of "clerical dignity."

He was able to give his father a very encouraging report of the mission work (July 13, 1842): "The work of God goes on here notwithstanding all our infirmities. Souls are gathered in continually, and sometimes from among those you would never have expected to see turning to the Lord. Twenty-four were added to the Church last month, and there are several inquirers. At Motito, a French station about thirty-three miles northeast of this, there has been an awakening, and I hope much good will result. I have good news, too, from Rio de Janeiro. The Bibles that have been distributed are beginning to cause a stir."

The state of the country continued so disturbed that it was not till February, 1843, that he was able to set out for the village where Sebehwe had taken up his residence with the remains of his tribe. This visit he undertook at great personal risk. Though looking at first very ill-pleased, Sebehwe treated him in a short time in a most friendly way, and on the Sunday after his arrival, sent a herald to proclaim that on that day nothing should be done but pray to God and listen to the words of the foreigner. He himself listened with great attention while Livingstone told him of Jesus and the resurrection, and the missionary was often interrupted by the questions of the chief. Here, then, was another chief pacified, and brought under the preaching of the gospel.

Livingstone then passed on to the country of the Bakhatla, where he had purposed to erect his mission-station. The country was fertile, and the people industrious, and among other industries was an iron manufactory, to which as a bachelor he got admission, whereas married men were wont to be excluded, through fear that they would bewitch the iron! When he asked the chief if he would like him to come and be his missionary, he held up his hands and said, "Oh, I shall dance if you do; I shall collect all my people to hoe for you a garden, and you will get more sweet reed and corn than myself." The cautious Directors at home, however, had sent no instructions as to Livingstone's station, and he could only say to the chief that he would tell them of his desire for a missionary.

At a distance of five days' journey beyond the Bakhatla was situated the village of Sechele, chief of the Bakwains, afterward one of Livingstone's greatest friends. Sechele had been enraged at him for not visiting him the year before, and threatened him with mischief. It happened that his only child was ill when the missionary arrived, and also the child of one of his principal men. Livingstone's treatment of both was successful, and Sechele had not an angry word. Some of his questions struck the heart of the missionary:

"'Since it is true that all who die unforgiven are lost forever, why did your nation not come to tell us of it before now? My ancestors are all gone, and none of them knew anything of what you tell me. How is this?' I thought immediately," says Livingstone, "of the guilt of the Church, but did not confess. I told him multitudes in our own country were like himself, so much in love with their sins. My ancestors had spent a great deal of time in trying to persuade them, and yet after all many of them by refusing were lost. We now wish to tell all the world about a Saviour, and if men did not believe, the guilt would be entirely theirs. Sechele has been driven from another part of his country from that in which he was located last year, and so has Bubi, so that the prospects I had of benefiting them by native teachers are for the present darkened."

Among other things that Livingstone found time for in these wanderings among strange people, was translating hymns into the Sichuana language. Writing to his father (Bakwain Country, 21st March, 1843), he says:

"Janet may be pleased to learn that I am become a poet, or rather a poetaster, in Sichuana. Half a dozen of my hymns were lately printed in a collection of the French brethren. One of them is a translation of 'There is a fountain filled with blood;' another, 'Jesus shall reign where'er the sun;' others are on 'The earth being filled with the glory of the Lord,' 'Self-dedication,' 'Invitation to Sinners,' 'The soul that loves God finds him everywhere.' Janet may try to make English ones on these latter subjects if she can, and Agnes will doubtless set them to music on the same condition. I do not boast of having done this, but only mention it to let you know that I am getting a little better fitted for the great work of a missionary, that your hearts may be drawn out to more prayer for the success of the gospel proclaimed by my feeble lips."

Livingstone was bent on advancing in the direction of the country of the Matebele and their chief Mosilikatse, but the dread of that terrible warrior prevented him from getting Bakwains to accompany him, and being thus unable to rig out a wagon, he was obliged to travel on oxback. In a letter to Dr. Risdon Bennett (30th June, 1843), he gives a lively description of this mode of traveling: "It is rough traveling, as you can conceive. The skin is so loose there is no getting one's great-coat, which has to serve both as saddle and blanket, to stick on; and then the long horns in front, with which he can give one a punch in the abdomen if he likes, make us sit as bolt upright as dragoons. In this manner I traveled more than 400 miles." Visits to some of the villages of the Bakalahari gave him much pleasure. He was listened to with great attention, and while sitting by their fires and listening to their traditionary tales, he intermingled the story of the Cross with their conversation, and it was by far the happiest portion of his journey. The people were a poor, degraded, enslaved race, who hunted for other tribes to procure them skins; they were far from wells, and had their gardens far from their houses, in order to have their produce safe from the chiefs who visited them.

Coming on to his old friends the Bakaa, he found them out of humor with him, accusing him of having given poison to a native who had been seized with fever on occasion of his former visit. Consequently he could get little or nothing to eat, and had to content himself, as he wrote to his friends, with the sumptuous feasts of his imagination. With his usual habit of discovering good in all his troubles, however, he found cause for thankfulness at their stinginess, for in coming down a steep pass, absorbed with the questions which the people were putting to him, he forgot where he was, lost his footing, and, striking his hand between a rock and his Bible which he was carrying, he suffered a compound fracture of his finger. His involuntary low diet saved him from taking fever, and the finger was healing favorably, when a sudden visit in the middle of the night from a lion, that threw them all into consternation, made him, without thinking, discharge his revolver at the visitor, and the recoil hurt him more than the shot did the lion. It rebroke his finger, and the second fracture was worse than the first. "The Bakwains," he says, "who were most attentive to my wants during the whole journey of more than 400 miles, tried to comfort me when they saw the blood again flowing, by saying, 'You have hurt yourself, but you have redeemed us: henceforth we will only swear by you.' Poor creatures," he writes to Dr. Bennett, "I wished they had felt gratitude for the blood that was shed for their precious souls."

Returning to Kuruman from this journey, in June, 1843, Livingstone was delighted to find at length a letter from the Directors of the Society authorizing the formation of a settlement in the regions beyond. He found another letter that greatly cheered him, from a Mrs. M'Robert, the wife of art Independent minister at Cambuslang (near Blantyre), who had collected and now sent him L12 for a native agent, and was willing, on the part of some young friends, to send presents of clothing for the converts. In acknowledging this letter, Livingstone poured out his very heart, so full was he of gratitude and delight. He entreated the givers to consider Mebalwe as their own agent, and to concentrate their prayers upon him, for prayer, he thought, was always more efficacious when it could be said, "One thing have I desired of the Lord." As to the present of clothing, he simply entreated his friends to send nothing of the kind; such things demoralized the recipients, and bred endless jealousies. If he were allowed to charge something for the clothes, he would be pleased to have them, but on no other terms.

Writing to the Secretary of the Society, Rev. A. Tidman (24th June, 1843), and referring to the past success of the Mission in the nearer localities, he says: "If you could realize this fact as fully as those on the spot can, you would be able to enter into the feelings of irrepressible delight with which I hail the decision of the Directors that we go forward to the dark interior. May the Lord enable me to consecrate my whole being to the glorious work!"

In this communication to the Directors Livingstone modestly, but frankly and firmly, gives them his mind on some points touched on in their letter to him. In regard to his favorite measure—native agency—he is glad that a friend has remitted money for the employment of one agent, and that others have promised the means of employing other two. On another subject he had a communication to make to them which evidently cost him no ordinary effort. In his more private letters to his friends, from an early period after entering Africa, he had expressed himself very freely, almost contemptuously, on the distribution of the laborers. There was far too much clustering about the Cape Colony, and the district immediately beyond it, and a woeful slowness to strike out with the fearless chivalry that became missionaries of the Cross, and take possession of the vast continent beyond. All his letters reveal the chafing of his spirit with this confinement of evangelistic energy in the face of so vast a field—this huddling together of laborers in sparsely peopled districts, instead of sending them forth over the whole of Africa, India, and China, to preach the gospel to every creature. He felt deeply that both the Church at home, and many of the missionaries on the spot, had a poor conception of missionary duty, out of which came little faith, little effort, little expectation, with a miserable tendency to exaggerate their own evils and grievances, and fall into paltry squabbles which would not have been possible if they had been fired with the ambition to win the world for Christ.

But what it was a positive relief for him to whisper in the ear of an intimate friend, it demanded the courage of a hero to proclaim to the Directors of a great Society. It was like impugning their whole policy and arraigning their wisdom. But Livingstone could not say one thing in private and another in public. Frankly and fearlessly he proclaimed his views:

"The conviction to which I refer is that a much larger share of the benevolence of the Church and of missionary exertion is directed into this country than the amount of population, as compared with other countries, and the success attending those efforts, seem to call for. This conviction has been forced upon me, both by a personal inspection, more extensive than that which has fallen to the lot of any other, either missionary or trader, and by the sentiments of other missionaries who have investigated the subject according to their opportunities. In reference to the population, I may mention that I was led in England to believe that the population of the interior was dense, and now since I have come to this country I have conversed with many, both of our Society and of the French, and none of them would reckon up the number of 30,000 Bechuanas."

He then proceeds to details in a most characteristic way, giving the number of huts in every village, and being careful in every case, as his argument proceeded on there being a small population, rather to overstate than understate the number:

"In view of these facts and the confirmation of them I have received from both French and English brethren, computing the population much below what I have stated, I confess I feel grieved to hear of the arrival of new missionaries. Nor am I the only one who deplores their appointment to this country. Again and again have I been pained at heart to hear the question put, Where will these new brethren find fields of labor in this country? Because I know that in India or China there are fields large enough for all their energies. I am very far from undervaluing the success which has attended the labors of missionaries in this land. No! I gratefully acknowledge the wonders God hath wrought, and I feel that the salvation of one soul is of more value than all the effort that has been expended; but we are to seek the field where there is a possibility that most souls will be converted, and it is this consideration which makes me earnestly call the attention of the Directors to the subject of statistics. If these were actually returned—and there would be very little difficulty in doing so—it might, perhaps, be found that there is not a country better supplied with missionaries in the world, and that in proportion to the number of agents compared to the amount of population, the success may be inferior to most other countries where efforts have been made."

Finding that a brother missionary was willing to accompany him to the station he had fixed on among the Bakhatlas, and enable him to set to work with the necessary arrangements, Livingstone set out with him in the beginning of August, 1843, and arrived at his destination after a fortnight's journey. Writing to his family, "in sight of the hills of Bakhatla," August 21st, 1843, he says: "We are in company with a party of three hunters: one of them from the West Indies, and two from India—Mr. Pringle from Tinnevelly, and Captain Steel of the Coldstream Guards, aide-de-camp to the Governor of Madras.... The Captain is the politest of the whole, well versed in the classics, and possessed of much general knowledge." Captain Steele, now General Sir Thomas Steele, proved one of Livingstone's best and most constant friends. In one respect the society of gentlemen who came to hunt would not have been sought by Livingstone, their aims and pursuits being so different from his; but he got on with them wonderfully. In some instances these strangers were thoroughly sympathetic, but not in all. When they were not sympathetic on religion, he had a strong conviction that his first duty as a servant of Christ was to commend his religion by his life and spirit—by integrity, civility, kindness, and constant readiness to deny himself in obliging others; having thus secured, their esteem and confidence, he would take such quiet opportunities as presented themselves to get near their consciences on his Master's behalf. He took care that there should be no moving about on the day of rest, and that the outward demeanor of all should be befitting a Christian company. For himself, while he abhorred the indiscriminate slaughter of animals for mere slaughter's sake, he thought well of the chase as a means of developing courage, promptness of action in time of danger, protracted endurance of hunger and thirst, determination in the pursuit of an object, and other qualities befitting brave and powerful men. The respect and affection with which he inspired the gentlemen who were thus associated with him was very remarkable. Doubtless, with his quick apprehension, he learned a good deal from their society of the ways and feelings of a class with whom hitherto he had hardly ever been in contact. The large resources with which they were furnished, in contrast to his own, excited no feeling of envy, nor even a desire to possess their ample means, unless he could have used them to extend missionary operations; and the gentlemen themselves would sometimes remark that the missionaries were more comfortable than they. Though they might at times spend thousands of pounds where Livingstone did not spend as many pence, and would be provided with horses, servants, tents, and stores, enough to secure comfort under almost any conditions, they had not that key to the native heart and that power to command the willing services of native attendants which belonged so remarkably to the missionary. "When we arrive at a spot where we intend to spend the night," writes Livingstone to his family, "all hands immediately unyoke the oxen. Then one or two of the company collect wood; one of us strikes up a fire, another gets out the water-bucket and fills the kettle; a piece of meat is thrown on the fire, and if we have biscuits, we are at our coffee in less than half an hour after arriving. Our friends, perhaps, sit or stand shivering at their fire for two or three hours before they get their things ready, and are glad occasionally of a cup of coffee from us."

The first act of the missionaries on arriving at their destination was to have an interview with the chief, and ask whether he desired a missionary. Having an eye to the beads, guns, and other things, of which white men seemed always to have an ample store, the chief and his men gave them a cordial welcome, and Livingstone next proceeded to make a purchase of land. This, like Abraham with the sons of Heth, he insisted should be done in legal form, and for this purpose he drew up a written contract to which, after it was fully explained to them, both parties attached their signatures or marks. They then proceeded to the erection of a hut fifty feet by eighteen, not getting much help from the Bakhatlas, who devolved such labors on the women, but being greatly helped by the native deacon, Mebalwe. All this Livingstone and his companion had done on their own responsibility, and in the hope that the Directors would approve of it. But if they did not, he told them that he was at their disposal "to go anywhere—provided it be FORWARD."

The progress of medical and scientific work during this period is noted in a letter to Dr. Risdon Bennett, dated 30th June, 1843. In addition to full details of the missionary work, this letter enters largely into the state of disease in South Africa, and records some interesting cases, medical and surgical. Still more interesting, perhaps, is the evidence it affords of the place in Livingstone's attention which began to be occupied by three great subjects of which we shall hear much anon—Fever, Tsetse, and "the Lake." Fever he considered the greatest barrier to the evangelization of Africa. Tsetse, an insect like a common fly, destroyed horses and oxen, so that many traders lost literally every ox in their team. As for the Lake, it lay somewhat beyond the outskirts of his new district, and was reported terrible for fever. He heard that Mr. Moffat intended to visit it, but he was somewhat alarmed lest his friend should suffer. It was not Moffat, but Livingstone, however, that first braved the risks of that fever swamp.

A subject of special scientific interest to the missionary during this period was—the desiccation of Africa. On this topic he addressed a long letter to Dr. Buckland in 1843, of which, considerably to his regret, no public notice appears to have been taken, and perhaps the letter never reached him. The substance of this paper may, however, be gathered from a communication subsequently made to the Royal Geographical Society[20] after his first impression had been confirmed by enlarged observation and discovery. Around, and north of Kuruman, he had found many indications of a much larger supply of water in a former age. He ascribed the desiccation to the gradual elevation of the western part of the country. He found traces of a very large ancient river which flowed nearly north and south to a large lake, including the bed of the present Orange River; in fact, he believed that the whole country south of Lake 'Ngami presented in ancient times very much the same appearance as the basin north of that lake does now, and that the southern lake disappeared when a fissure was made in the ridge through which the Orange River now proceeds to the sea. He could even indicate the spot where the river and the lake met, for some hills there had caused an eddy in which was found a mound of calcareous tufa and travertine, full of fossil bones. These fossils he was most eager to examine, in order to determine the time of the change; but on his first visit he had no time, and when he returned, he was suddenly called away to visit a missionary's child, a hundred miles off. It happened that he was never in the same locality again, and had therefore no opportunity to complete his investigation.

[Footnote 20: See Journal, vol. xxvii. p. 356.]

Dr. Livingstone's mind had that wonderful power which belongs to some men of the highest gifts, of passing with the utmost rapidity, not only from subject to subject, but from one mood or key to another entirely different. In a letter to his family, written about this time, we have a characteristic instance. On one side of the sheet is a prolonged outburst of tender Christian love and lamentation over a young attendant who had died of fever suddenly; on the other side, he gives a map of the Bakhatla country with its rivers and mountains, and is quite at home in the geographical details, crowning his description with some sentimental and half-ludicrous lines of poetry. No reasonable man will fancy that in the wailings of his heart there was any levity or want of sincerity. What we are about to copy merits careful consideration: first, as evincing the depth and tenderness of his love for these black savages; next, as showing that it was pre-eminently Christian love, intensified by his vivid view of the eternal world, and belief in Christ as the only Saviour; and, lastly, as revealing the secret of the affection which these poor fellows bore to him in return. The intensity of the scrutiny which he directs on his heart, and the severity of the judgment which he seems to pass on himself, as if he had not done all he might have done for the spiritual good of this young man, show with what intense conscientiousness he tried to discharge his missionary duty:

"Poor Sehamy, where art thou now? Where lodges thy soul to-night? Didst thou think of what I told thee as thou turnedst from side to side in distress? I could now do anything for thee. I could weep for thy soul. But now nothing can be done. Thy fate is fixed. Oh, am I guilty of the blood of thy soul, my poor dear Sehamy? If so, how shall I look upon thee in the judgment? But I told thee of a Saviour; didst thou think of Him, and did He lead thee through the dark valley? Did He comfort as He only can? Help me, O Lord Jesus, to be faithful to every one. Remember me, and let me not be guilty of the blood of souls. This poor young man was the leader of the party. He governed the others, and most attentive he was to me. He anticipated my every want. He kept the water-calabash at his head at night, and if I awoke, he was ready to give me a draught immediately. When the meat was boiled he secured the best portion for me, the best place for sleeping, the best of everything. Oh, where is he now? He became ill after leaving a certain tribe, and believed he had been poisoned. Another of the party and he ate of a certain dish given them by a woman whom they had displeased, and having met this man yesterday he said, 'Sehamy is gone to heaven, and I am almost dead by the poison given us by that woman.' I don't believe they took any poison, but they do, and their imaginations are dreadfully excited when they entertain that belief."

The same letter intimates that in case his family should have arranged to emigrate to America, as he had formerly advised them to do, he had sent home a bill of which L10 was to aid the emigration, and L10 to be spent on clothes for himself. In regard to the latter sum, he now wished them to add it to the other, so that his help might be more substantial; and for himself he would make his old clothes serve for another year. The emigration scheme, which he thought would have added to the comfort of his parents and sisters, was not, however, carried into effect. The advice to his family to emigrate proceeded from deep convictions. In a subsequent letter (4th December, 1850) he writes: "If I could only be with you for a week, you would goon be pushing on in the world. The world is ours. Our Father made it to be inhabited, and many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased. It will be increased more by emigration than by missionaries." He held it to be God's wish that the unoccupied parts of the earth should be possessed, and he believed in Christian colonization as a great means of spreading the gospel. We shall see afterward that to plant English and Scotch colonies in Africa became one of his master ideas and favorite schemes.



CHAPTER IV.

FIRST TWO STATIONS—MABOTSA AND CHONUANE.

A.D. 1843-1847.

Description of Mabotsa—A favorite hymn—General reading—Mabotsa infested with lions—Livingstone's encounter—The native deacon who saved him—His Sunday-school—Marriage to Mary Moffat—Work at Mabotsa—Proposed institution for training native agents—Letter to his mother—Trouble at Mabotsa—Noble sacrifice of Livingstone—Goes to Sechele and the Bakwains—New station at Chonuane—Interest shown by Sechele—Journeys eastward—The Boers and the Transvaal—Their occupation of the country, and treatment of the natives—Work among the Bakwains—Livingstone's desire to move on—Theological conflict at home—His view of it—His scientific labors and miscellaneous employments.

Describing what was to be his new home to his friend Watt from Kuruman, 27th September, 1843, Livingstone says: "The Bakhatla have cheerfully offered to remove to a more favorable position than they at present occupy. We have fixed upon a most delightful valley, which we hope to make the centre of our sphere of operations in the interior. It is situated in what poetical gents like you would call almost an amphitheatre of mountains. The mountain range immediately in the rear of the spot where we have fixed our residence is called Mabotsa, or a marriage-feast. May the Lord lift upon us the light of his countenance, so that by our feeble instrumentality many may thence be admitted to the marriage-feast of the Lamb. The people are as raw as may well be imagined; they have not the least desire but for the things of the earth, and it must be a long time ere we can gain their attention to the things which are above."

Something led him in his letter to Mr. Watt to talk of the old monks, and the spots they selected for their establishments. He goes on to write lovingly of what was good in some of the old fathers of the mediaeval Church, despite the strong feeling of many to the contrary; indicating thus early the working of that catholic spirit which was constantly expanding in later years, which could separate the good in any man from all its evil surroundings, and think of it thankfully and admiringly. In the following extract we get a glimpse of a range of reading much wider than most would probably have supposed likely:

"Who can read the sermons of St. Bernard, the meditations of St. Augustine, etc., without saying, whatever other faults they had: They thirsted, and now they are filled. That hymn: of St. Bernard, on the name of Christ, although in what might he termed dog-Latin, pleases me so; it rings in my ears as I wander across the wide, wide wilderness, and makes me wish I was more like them—

"Jesu, dulcis memoria, Jesu, spes poenitentibus, Dans cordi vera gaudia; Quam pius es petentibus! Sed super mel et omnia, Quam bonus es quaerentibus! Ejus dulcis praesentia. Sed quid invenientibus!

Nil canitur suavius, Jesu, dulcedo cordium, Nil auditur jucundius, Fons, rivus, lumen mentium, Nil cogitatur dulcius, Excedens omne gaudium, Quam Jesus Dei filius. Et omne desiderium."

Livingstone was in the habit of fastening inside the boards of his journals, or writing on the fly-leaf, verses that interested him specially. In one of these volumes this hymn is copied at full length. In another we find a very yellow newspaper clipping of the "Song of the Shirt." In the same volume a clipping containing "The Bridge of Sighs," beginning

"One more unfortunate, Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death."

In another we have Coleridge's lines:

"He prayeth well who loveth well Both man and bird and beast. He prayeth best who loveth best All things both great and small; For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all."

In another, hardly legible on the marble paper, we find:

"So runs my dream: but what am I? An infant crying in the night; An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry."

All Livingstone's personal friends testify that, considering the state of banishment in which he lived, his acquaintance with English literature was quite remarkable. When a controversy arose in America as to the genuineness of his letters to the New York Herald, the familiarity of the writer with the poems of Whittier was made an argument against him. But Livingstone knew a great part of the poetry of Longfellow, Whittier, and others by heart.

There was one drawback to the new locality: it was infested with lions. All the world knows the story of the encounter at Mabotsa, which was so near ending Livingstone's career, when the lion seized him by the shoulder, tore his flesh, and crushed his bone. Nothing in all Livingstone's history took more hold of the popular imagination, or was more frequently inquired about when he came home[21]. By a kind of miracle his life was saved, but the encounter left him lame for life of the arm which the lion crunched[22]. But the world generally does not know that Mebalwe, the native who was with him, and who saved his life by diverting the lion when his paw was on his head, was the teacher whom Mrs. M'Robert's twelve pounds had enabled him to employ. Little did the good woman think that this offering would indirectly be the means of preserving the life of Livingstone for the wonderful work of the next thirty years! When, on being attacked by Mebalwe, the lion left Livingstone, and sprang upon him, he bit his thigh, then dashed toward another man, and caught him by the shoulder, when in a moment, the previous shots taking effect, he fell down dead. Sir Bartle Frere, in his obituary notice of Livingstone read to the Royal Geographical Society, remarked: "For thirty years afterward all his labors and adventures, entailing such exertion and fatigue, were undertaken with a limb so maimed that it was painful for him to raise a fowling-piece, or in fact to place the left arm in any position above the level of the shoulder."

[Footnote 21: He did not speak of it spontaneously, and sometimes he gave unexpected answers to questions put to him about it. To one person who asked very earnestly what were his thoughts when the lion was above him, he answered, "I was thinking what part of me he would eat first"—a grotesque thought, which some persons considered strange in so good a man, but which was quite in accordance with human experience in similar circumstances.]

[Footnote 22: The false joint in the crushed arm was the mark by which the body of Livingstone was identified when brought home by his followers in 1873.]

In his Missionary Travels Livingstone says that but for the importunities of his friends, he meant to have kept this story in store to tell his children in his dotage. How little he made of it at the time will be seen from the following allusion to it in a letter to his father, dated 27th July, 1844. After telling how the attacks of the lions drew the people of Mabotsa away from the irrigating operations he was engaged in, he says:

"At last, one of the lions destroyed nine sheep in broad daylight on a hill just opposite our house. All the people immediately ran over to it, and, contrary to my custom, I imprudently went with them, in order to see how they acted, and encourage them to destroy him. They surrounded him several times, but he managed to break through the circle. I then got tired. In coming home I had to come near to the end of the hill. They were then close upon the lion and had wounded him. He rushed out from the bushes which concealed him from view, and bit me on the arm so as to break the bone. It is now nearly well, however, feeling weak only from having been confined in one position so long; and I ought to praise Him who delivered me from so great a danger. I hope I shall never forget his mercy. You need not be sorry for me, for long before this reaches you it will be quite as strong as ever it was. Gratitude is the only feeling we ought to have in remembering the event. Do not mention this to any one. I do not like to be talked about."

In a letter to the Directors, Livingstone briefly adverts to Mebalwe's service on this occasion, but makes it a peg on which to hang some strong remarks on that favorite topic—the employment of native agency:

"Our native assistant Mebalwe has been of considerable value to the Mission. In endeavoring to save my life he nearly lost his own, for he was caught and wounded severely, but both before being laid aside, and since his recovery, he has shown great willingness to be useful. The cheerful manner in which he engages with us in manual labor in the station, and his affectionate addresses to his countrymen, are truly gratifying. Mr. E. took him to some of the neighboring villages lately, in order to introduce him to his work; and I intend to depart to-morrow for the same purpose to several of the villages situated northeast of this. In all there may be a dozen considerable villages situated at convenient distances around us, and we each purpose to visit them statedly. It would be an immense advantage to the cause had we many such agents."

Another proof that his pleas for native agency, published in some of the Missionary Magazines, were telling at home, was the receipt of a contribution for the employment of a native helper, amounting to L15, from a Sunday-school in Southampton. Touched with this proof of youthful sympathy, Livingstone addressed a long letter of thanks to the Southampton teachers and children, desiring to deepen their interest in the work, and concluding with an account of his Sunday-school:

"I yesterday commenced school for the first time at Mabotsa, and the poor little naked things came with fear and trembling. A native teacher assisted, and the chief collected as many of them as he could, or I believe we should have had none. The reason is, the women make us the hobgoblins of their children, telling them 'these white men bite children, feed them with dead men's brains, and all manner of nonsense. We are just commencing our mission among them."

A new star now appeared in Livingstone's horizon, destined to give a brighter complexion to his life, and a new illustration to the name Mabotsa. Till this year (1844) he had steadily repudiated all thoughts of marriage, thinking it better to be independent. Nor indeed had he met with any one to induce him to change his mind. Writing in the end of 1843 to his friend Watt, he had said: "There's no outlet for me when I begin to think of getting married but that of sending home an advertisement to the Evangelical Magazine, and if I get very old, it must be for some decent sort of widow. In the meantime I am too busy to think of any thing of the kind." But soon after the Moffats came back from England to Kuruman, their eldest daughter Mary rapidly effected a revolution in Livingstone's ideas of matrimony. They became engaged. In announcing his approaching marriage to the Directors, he makes it plain that he had carefully considered the bearing which this step might have on his usefulness as a missionary. No doubt if he had foreseen the very extraordinary work to which he was afterwards to be called, he might have come to a different conclusion. But now, apparently, he was fixed and settled. Mabotsa would become a centre from which native missionary agents would radiate over a large circumference. His own life-work would resemble Mr. Moffat's. For influencing the women and children of such a place, a Christian lady was indispensable, and who so likely to do it well as one born in Africa, the daughter of an eminent and honored missionary, herself familiar with missionary life, and gifted with the winning manner and the ready helping hand that were so peculiarly adapted for this work? The case was as clear as possible, and Livingstone was very happy.

On his way home from Kuruman, after the engagement, he writes to her cheerily from Motito, on 1st August, 1844, chiefly about the household they were soon to get up; asking her to get her father to order some necessary articles, and to write to Colesberg about the marriage-license (and if he did not get it, they would license themselves!), and concluding thus:

"And now, my dearest, farewell. May God bless you! Let your affection be towards Him much more than towards me; and, kept by his mighty power and grace, I hope I shall never give you cause to regret that you have given me a part. Whatever friendship we feel towards each other, let us always look to Jesus as our common friend and guide, and may He shield you with his everlasting arms from every evil!"

Next month he writes from Mabotsa with full accounts of the progress of their house, of which he was both architect and builder:

"Mabotsa, 12th September, 1844.—I must tell you of the progress I have made in architecture. The walls are nearly finished, although the dimensions are 52 feet by 20 outside, or almost the same size as the house in which you now reside. I began with stone, but when it was breast-high, I was obliged to desist from my purpose to build it entirely of that material by an accident, which, slight as it was, put a stop to my operations in that line. A stone failing was stupidly, or rather instinctively, caught by me in its fall by the left hand, and it nearly broke my arm over again. It swelled up again, and I fevered so much I was glad of a fire, although the weather was quite warm. I expected bursting and discharge, but Baba bound it up nicely, and a few days' rest put all to rights. I then commenced my architecture, and six days have brought the walls up a little more than six feet.

"The walls will be finished long before you receive this, and I suppose the roof too, but I have still the wood of the roof to seek. It is not, however, far off; and as Mr. E. and I, with the Kurumanites, got on the roof of the school in a week, I hope this will not be more than a fortnight or three weeks. Baba has been most useful to me in making door and window frames; indeed, if he had not turned out I should not have been advanced so far as I am. Mr. E.'s finger is the cause in part of my having no aid from him, but all will come right at last. It is pretty hard work, and almost enough to drive love out of my head, but it is not situated there; it is in my heart, and won't come out unless you behave so as to quench it!...

"You must try and get a maid of some sort to come with although it is only old Moyimang; you can't go without some one, and a Makhatla can't be had for either love or money....

"You must excuse soiled paper, my hands won't wash clean after dabbling mud all day. And although the above does not contain evidence of it, you are as dear to me as ever, and will be as long as our lives are spared.—I am still your most affectionate

"D. LIVINGSTON."

A few weeks later he writes:

"As I am favored with another opportunity to Kuruman, I gladly embrace it, and wish I could embrace you at the same time; but as I cannot, I must do the next best to it, and while I give you the good news that our work is making progress, and of course the time of our separation becoming beautifully less, I am happy in the hope that, by the messenger who now goes, I shall receive the good news that you are well and happy, and remembering me with some of that affection which we bear to each other.... All goes on pretty well here; the school is sometimes well, sometimes ill attended. I begin to like it, and I once believed I could never have any pleasure in such employment. I had a great objection to school-keeping, but I find in that as in almost everything else I set myself to as a matter of duty, I soon became enamored of it. A boy came three times last week, and on the third time could act as monitor to the rest through a great portion of the alphabet. He is a real Mokhatla, but I have lost sight of him again. If I get them on a little, I shall translate some of your infant-school hymns into Sichuana rhyme, and you may yet, if you have time, teach them the tunes to them. I, poor mortal, am as mute as a fish in regard to singing, and Mr. Englis says I have not a bit of imagination. Mebalwe teaches them the alphabet in the 'auld lang syne' tune sometimes, and I heard it sung by some youths in the gardens yesterday—a great improvement over their old see-saw tunes indeed. Sometimes we have twenty, sometimes two, sometimes none at all.

"Give my love to A., and tell her to be sure to keep my lecture warm. She must not be vexed with herself, that she was not more frank to me. If she is now pleased, all is right. I have sisters, and know all of you have your failings, but I won't love you less for these. And to mother, too, give my kindest salutation. I suppose I shall get a lecture from her, too, about the largeness of the house. If there are too many windows, she can just let me know. I could build them all up in two days, and let the light come down the chimney, if that would please. I'll do anything for peace, except fighting for it. And now I must again, my dear, dear Mary, bid you good-bye. Accept my expressions as literally true when I say, I am your most affectionate and still confiding lover,

"D. LIVINGSTON."

In due time the marriage was solemnized, and Livingstone brought his wife to Mabotsa. Here they went vigorously to work, Mrs. Livingstone with her infant-school, and her husband with all the varied agencies, medical, educational, and pastoral, which his active spirit could bring to bear upon the people. They were a very superstitious race, and, among other things, had great faith in rain-making. Livingstone had a famous encounter with one of their rain-makers, the effect of which, was that the pretender was wholly nonplused; but instead of being convinced of the absurdity of their belief, the people were rather disposed to think that the missionaries did not want them to get rain. Some of them were workers in iron, who carried their superstitious notions into that department of life, too, believing that the iron could be smelted only by the power of medicines, and that those who had not the proper medicine need not attempt the work. In the hope of breaking down these absurdities, Livingstone planned a course of popular lectures on the works of God in creation and providence, to be carried out in the following way: