After travelling 400 miles we came to the Stanley Falls, and beyond them, we saw the river deflect from its Nileward course toward the Northwest.  Then it turned west, and then visions of towers and towns and strange tribes and strange nations broke upon our imagination, and we wondered what we were going to see, when the river suddenly took a decided turn toward the southwest and our dreams were put an end to.  We saw then that it was aiming directly for the Congo, and when we had propitiated some natives whom we encountered, by showing them crimson beads and polished wire, that had been polished for the occasion, we said:  “This is for your answer.  What river is this?” “Why, it is the river, of course.”  That was not an answer, and it required some persuasion before the chief, bit by bit digging into his brain, managed to roll out sonorously that, “It is the Ko-to-yah Congo.”  “It is the river of Congo-land.”  Alas for our classic dreams!  Alas for Crophi and Mophi, the fabled fountains of Herodotus!  Alas for the banks of the river where Moses was found by the daughter of Pharaoh!  This is the parvenu Congo!  Then we glided on and on past strange nations and cannibals—­not past those nations which have their heads under their arms—­for 1,100 miles, until we arrived at the circular extension of the river and my last remaining companion called it the Stanley Pool, and then five months after that our journey ended.

After that I had a very good mind to come back to America, and say, like the Queen of Uganda:  “There, what did I tell you?” But you know, the fates would not permit me to come over in 1878.  The very day I landed in Europe the King of Italy gave me an express train to convey me to France, and the very moment I descended from it at Marseilles there were three ambassadors from the King of the Belgians asked me to go back to Africa.  “What! go back to Africa?  Never! [Laughter.] I have come for civilization; I have come for enjoyment.  I have come for love, for life, for pleasure.  Not I. Go and ask some of those people you know who have never been to Africa before.  I have had enough of it.”  “Well, perhaps, by and by?” “Ah, I don’t know what will happen by and by, but, just now, never! never!  Not for Rothschild’s wealth!” [Laughter and applause.]

I was received by the Paris Geographical Society, and it was then I began to feel “Well, after all, I have done something, haven’t I?” I felt superb [laughter], but you know I have always considered myself a Republican.  I have those bullet-riddled flags, and those arrow-torn flags, the Stars and Stripes that I carried in Africa, for the discovery of Livingstone, and that crossed Africa, and I venerate those old flags.  I have them in London now, jealously guarded in the secret recesses of my cabinet.  I only allow my very best friends to look at them, and if any of you gentlemen ever happen in at my quarters, I will show them to you. [Applause.]

After I had written my book, “Through the Dark Continent,” I began to lecture, using these words:  “I have passed through a land watered by the largest river of the African continent, and that land knows no owner.  A word to the wise is sufficient.  You have cloths and hardware and glassware and gunpowder and these millions of natives have ivory and gums and rubber and dye-stuffs, and in barter there is good profit.” [Laughter.]