the principal streams which discharge their waters into the central line of drainage, but when about starting to explore the last hundred miles the hearts of my people failed them, and they set about frustrating me in every possible way.  Now, having returned seven hundred miles to get a new supply of stores, and another escort, I find myself destitute of even the means to live but for a few weeks, and sick in mind and body.”

Here I may pause to ask any brave man how he would have comported himself in such a crisis.  Many would have been in exceeding hurry to get home to tell the news of the continued explorations and discoveries, and to relieve the anxiety of the sorrowing family and friends awaiting their return.  Enough surely had been accomplished towards the solution of the problem that had exercised the minds of his scientific associates of the Royal Geograpical Society.  It was no negative exploration, it was hard, earnest labor of years, self-abnegation, enduring patience, and exalted fortitude, such as ordinary men fail to exhibit.

Suppose Livingstone had hurried to the coast after he had discovered Lake Bangweolo, to tell the news to the geographical world; then had returned to discover Moero, and run away again; then went back once more only to discover Kamolondo, and to race back again.  This would not be in accordance with Livingstone’s character.  He must not only discover the Chambezi, Lake Bangweolo, Luapula River, Lake Moero, Lualaba River, and Lake Kamolondo, but he must still tirelessly urge his steps forward to put the final completion to the grand lacustrine river system.  Had he followed the example of ordinary explorers, he would have been running backwards and forwards to tell the news, instead of exploring; and he might have been able to write a volume upon the discovery of each lake, and earn much money thereby.  They are no few months’ explorations that form the contents of his books.  His `Missionary Travels’ embraces a period of sixteen years; his book on the Zambezi, five years; and if the great traveller lives to come home, his third book, the grandest of all, must contain the records of eight or nine years.

It is a principle with Livingstone to do well what he undertakes to do; and in the consciousness that he is doing it, despite the yearning for his home which is sometimes overpowering, he finds, to a certain extent, contentment, if not happiness.  To men differently constituted, a long residence amongst the savages of Africa would be contemplated with horror, yet Livingstone’s mind can find pleasure and food for philosophic studies.  The wonders of primeval nature, the great forests and sublime mountains, the perennial streams and sources of the great lakes, the marvels of the earth, the splendors of the tropic sky by day and by night—­ all terrestrial and celestial phenomena are manna to a man of such self-abnegation and devoted philanthropic spirit.  He can be charmed with the primitive simplicity of Ethiop’s dusky children, with whom he has spent so many years of his life; he has a sturdy faith in their capabilities; sees virtue in them where others see nothing but savagery; and wherever he has gone among them, he has sought to elevate a people that were apparently forgotten of God and Christian man.