to the Government, as also my chart to the Zambesi.  I often wish that I may be permitted to do something for the benighted of Africa.  I shall have nothing to do at home; by the failure of the Universities Mission my work seems vain.  No fruit likely to come from J. Moffat’s mission either.  Have I not labored in vain?  Am I to be cut off before I do anything to effect permanent improvement in Africa?  I have been unprofitable enough, but may do something yet, in giving information.  If spared, God grant that I may be more faithful than I have been, and may He open up the way for me!”

Next day the weather was as still as ever; the sea a glassy calm, with a hot glaring sun, and sharks stalking about.  “All ill-natured,” says honest Livingstone, “and in this I am sorry to feel compelled to join.”

There is no sign of ill-nature, however, in the following remarks on African travel, in his Journal for 23d May: 

“In traveling in Africa, with the specific object in view of ameliorating the benighted condition of the country, every act is ennobled.  In obtaining shelter for the night, and exchanging the customary civilities, purchasing food for one’s party and asking the news of the country, and answering in their own polite way any inquiries made respecting the object of the journey, we begin to spread information respecting that people by whose agency their land will yet be made free from the evils that now oppress it.  The mere animal pleasure of traveling is very great.  The elastic muscles have been exercised.  Fresh and healthy blood circulates in the veins, the eye is clear, the step firm, but the day’s exertion has been enough to make rest thoroughly enjoyable.  There is always the influence of the remote chances of danger on the mind, either from men or wild beasts, and there is the fellow-feeling drawn out to one’s humble, hardy companions, with whom a community of interests and perils renders one friends indeed.  The effect of travel on my mind has been to make it more self-reliant, confident of resources and presence of mind.  On the body the limbs become wall-knit, the muscles after six months’ tramping are as hard as a board, the countenance bronzed as was Adam’s, and no dyspepsia.  “In remaining at any spot, it is to work.  The sweat of the brow is no longer a curse when one works for God; it is converted into a blessing.  It is a tonic to the system.  The charms of repose cannot be known without the excitement of exertion.  Most travelers seem taken up with the difficulties of the way, the pleasures of roaming free in the most picturesque localities seem forgotten.”

Toward the end of May a breeze at last springs up; many flying-fish come on board, and Livingstone is as usual intent on observation.  He observes them fly with great ease a hundred yards, the dolphin pursuing them swiftly, but not so swiftly as they can fly.  He notices that the dolphin’s bright colors afford a warning