Moreland Stanley, who had been sent to look for him by Mr. James Gordon Bennett, Jr., of the New York Herald newspaper, grasped the hand of David Livingstone.  An angel from heaven could hardly have been more welcome.  In a moment the sky brightened.  Stanley was provided with ample stores, and was delighted to supply the wants of the traveler.  The sense of sympathy, the feeling of brotherhood, the blessing of fellowship, acted like a charm.  Four good meals a day, instead of the spare and tasteless food of the country, made a wonderful change on the outer man; and in a few days Livingstone was himself again—­hearty and happy and hopeful as before.

Before closing this chapter and entering on the last two years of Livingstone’s life, which have so lively an interest of their own, it will be convenient to glance at the contributions to natural science which he continued to make to the very end.  In doing this, we avail ourselves of a very tender and Christian tribute to the memory of his early friend, which Professor Owen contributed to the Quarterly Review, April, 1875, after the publication of Livingstone’s Last Journals.

Mr. Owen appears to have been convinced by Livingstone’s reasoning and observations, that the Nile sources were in the Bangweolo watershed—­a supposition now ascertained to have been erroneous.  But what chiefly attracted and delighted the great naturalist was the many interesting notices of plants and animals scattered over the Last Journals.  These Journals contain important contributions both to economic and physiological botany.  In the former department, Livingstone makes valuable observations on plants useful in the arts, such as gum-copal, papyrus, cotton, india-rubber, and the palm-oil tree; while in the latter, his notices of “carnivorous plants,” which catch insects that probably yield nourishment to the plant, of silicified wood and the like, show how carefully he watched all that throws light on the life and changes of plants.  In zooelogy he was never weary of observing, especially when he found a strange-looking animal with strange habits.  Spiders, ants, and bees of unknown varieties were brought to light, but the strangest of his new acquaintances were among the fishy tribes.  He found fish that made long excursions on land, thanks to the wet grass through which they would wander for miles, thus proving that “a fish out of water” is not always the best symbol for a man out of his element.  There were fish, too, that burrowed in the earth; but most remarkable at first sight were the fish that appeared to bring forth their young by ejecting them from their mouths.  If Bruce or Du Chaillu had made such a statement, remarks Professor Owen, what ridicule would they not have encountered!  But Livingstone was not the man to make a statement of what he had not ascertained, or to be content until he had found a scientific explanation of it.  He found that in the branchial openings of the fish, there occur bags or pouches, on the same principle as the pouch of the opossum, where the young may be lodged for a time for protection or nourishment, and that when the creatures are discharged through the mouth into the water, it is only from a temporary cradle where they were probably enjoying repose, beyond the reach of enemies.