THE STORY OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE.

It is past ten o’clock at night.  A little boy fond of going about the country in search of plants has returned home.  Finding the door of his father’s house locked, and fearing to awaken his parents, he settles down contentedly on the step to spend the night there.  Then a woman’s hand quietly unbolts the door and receives the little wanderer back.  The boy is David Livingstone.  Now-a-days we know him as one of the greatest missionary explorers of our times.

A stern father, a loving mother, both godly and upright people—­such were the parents of David; and he respected and loved them with a true and constant affection.

The boy was fond of learning—­so fond indeed that when he was at the factory he would keep his book open before him on the spinning machine.  Most people think “one thing at a time” is a very good maxim—­David thought two things at a time was even better.

At home he was ever ready to lend a hand at house work to save his mother.  “If you bar the door, mother,” he would say, “I’ll wash the floor;” and wash the floor he did, times without number!

In later life he used to say he was glad he had thus toiled; and that, if it were possible to begin life again, he would like to go through just the same hard training.

He got on quickly at lessons, and became, like his father, a total abstainer for life.  He was fond of serious books; and, reading the lives of Christian missionaries, he began to wish to be one himself.  Ere long he journeyed from Blantyre near Glasgow (where he had been working as a factory hand) to London, to prepare for going abroad as a missionary.

His first address was not very promising.  He gave out his text, and then was obliged to confess that his sermon had quite gone out of his mind.

In the year 1840 David Livingstone, being then just over twenty-seven years old, went out to South Africa as a missionary.  He made his way up country to the furthest district in which the London Missionary Society then had a station.  There he taught the Hottentots, and his heart was ere long rejoiced by the change which took place in them.

Before leaving home he had studied medicine, and passed his examination satisfactorily; and this knowledge of healing he found most useful.  His patients, the poor African blacks, would walk a hundred miles to seek his advice, and his waggon was followed by a great crowd of sick folk anxious to be healed.

He studied the language of the tribes amongst whom he was ministering; and soon the people were able to sing in their own tongue, “There is a fountain filled with blood,” “Jesus shall reign where’er the sun,” and other beautiful hymns which delight the hearts of those in our own land.

Whilst he was gaining the affection of the natives, he did not forget his loved ones at home; and out of his scanty salary of about L100 a year he sent L20 to his parents.