The loneliness of feeling engendered by the absence of all human sympathy was trying.  “Amidst all the beauty and loveliness with which I am surrounded, there is still a feeling of want in the soul,—­as if something more were needed to bathe the soul in bliss than the sight of the perfection in working and goodness in planning of the great Father of our spirits.  I need to be purified—­fitted for the eternal, to which my soul stretches away, in ever returning longings.  I need to be made more like my blessed Saviour, to serve my God with all my powers.  Look upon me, Spirit of the living God, and supply all Thou seest lacking.”

It was Livingstone’s great joy to begin this long journey with a blessed act of humanity, boldly summoning a trader to release a body of captives, so that no fewer than eighteen souls were restored to freedom.  As he proceeded he obtained but too plain evidence of the extent to which the slave traffic prevailed, uniformly finding that wherever slavers had been, the natives were more difficult to deal with and more exorbitant in their demands.  Slaves in chains were sometimes met with—­a sight which some of his men had never beheld before.

Livingstone’s successful management of the natives constituted the crowning wonder of this journey.  Usually the hearts of the chiefs were wonderfully turned to him, so that they not only allowed him to pass on, but supplied him with provisions.  But there were some memorable occasions on which he and his company appeared to be doomed.  When he passed through the Chiboque country, the provisions were absolutely spent; there was no resource but to kill a riding-ox, a part of which, according to custom, was sent to the chief.  Next day was Sunday.  After service the chief sent an impudent message demanding much more valuable presents.  His people collected round Livingstone, brandishing their weapons, and one young man all but brought down his sword on his head.  It seemed impossible to avoid a fight; yet Livingstone’s management prevailed—­the threatened storm passed away.

Some days after, in passing through a forest in the dominions of another chief, he and his people were in momentary expectation of an attack.  They went to the chiefs village and spoke to the man himself; and here, on a Sunday, while ill of fever, Livingstone was able to effect a temporary settlement.  The chief sent them some food; then yams, a goat, fowl, and meat.  Livingstone gave him a shawl, and two bunches of beads, and he seemed pleased.  During these exciting scenes he felt no fever; but when they were over the constant wettings made him experience a sore sense of sinking, and this Sunday was a day “of perfect uselessness.”  Monday came, and while Livingstone was as low as possible, the inexorable chief renewed his demands.  “It was,” he says, “a day of torture.”