 CHAPTER XIV. Your Journey from Yujiji to Unyanyembe. After Mizohazy is the bold cape of Kobogo, not the terrible Kobogo around whose name mystery has been woven by the superstitious natives, not the Kobogo whose cell and thunder and awful roar were heard when crossing the Rukufu on our flight from the Waha, but a point in the Ukuranga, on whose hard and uninviting rocks many a canoe has been wrecked. We passed close to its forbidding walls, thankful for the calm of the Tanganika. Near Kobogo are some very fine mavul trees, well adapted for canoe building, and there are no loud-mouth natives about to haggle for the privilege of cutting them. Along the water's edge, and about three feet above it, was observed very clearly on the smooth face of the rocky slopes of Kobogo the high water mark of the lake. This went to show that the Tanganika, during the rainy season, rises about three feet above its driest season level, and that, during the latter season, evaporation reduces it to its normal level. The number of rivers which we passed on this journey enabled me to observe whether, as I was told, there was any current setting north. It was apparent to me that, while the southwest, south, or southeast winds blew, the brown flood of the rivers swept north. But it happened that, while passing, once or twice, the mouths of rivers, after a puff from the northwest and the north, that the muddied waters were seen southward of the mouths, from which I conclude that there is no current in the Tanganika except such as is caused by the fickle winds. Finding a snug nook of bay at a place called Segunda, we put in for lunch. An island at the mouth of the bay suggested to our minds that this was a beautiful spot for a mission station. The grandly sloping hills in the background, with an undulating shelf of land well wooded between them and the bay, added to the attractions of such a spot. The island, capable of containing quite a large village and perfectly defensible, might, for prudence's sake, contain the mission and its congregation. The landlocked bay would protect their fishery and trade vessels more than sustain a hundred times the number of the population of the island. Wood for building their canoes and houses is close at hand. The neighboring country would afford game and abundance, and the docile and civil people of Yucaranga but wait religious shepherds. From beautiful Segunda, after a brief halt, we set off, and after three hours arrived at the mouth of the river Eulowasia. Hippopotamiae and crocodiles, being numerous, we amused ourselves by shooting at them, giving also a hope of attracting the attention of our shore-party, the sound of whose guns we had not heard since leaving the Ragufu. On the third of January we left Eulowasia, and passing by Cape Harembe were in the bay of Tangua. This bay is about twenty-five miles broad, and stretches from Cape Harembe to Cape Tangua. Finding themselves so near their destination, Yurimba being but six miles from Harembe Point, the men of both boats bent themselves to their oars, and, with shouts, songs, and laughter, encouraged each other to do their utmost. The flags of the two great Anglo-Saxon nations rippled and played in the soft breeze, sometimes drawing near, caressingly, together, again bending away, like two lovers coy to unite. The tight little boat of the doctor would keep ahead, and the crimson and crossed flag of England would wave before me, and it seemed to say that the beautiful laggard astern, come on, come on, England leads the way. But was it not England's place to be in the front here? She won the right to it by discovering the Tanganika. America came but second. Yurimba, though a large district of Kowendi, has a village of the same name peopled by refugees from Yamba, who found the Delta of the Lajori through the unhealthiest of spots, equal to that of the Ruzizi, far preferable to the neighborhood of Sultan Pumbura, of southern Kowendi. A good chase by the victors seems to have given a shock to their systems, for they are very timid and distrustful of strangers, and would by no means permit us to enter their village, of which to say the truth I was very glad, after a glance at the reeking corruption on which they were encamped. In the immediate neighborhood, nay for a couple of miles on either side, I should suppose that to a white man it were death to sleep a single night. Leading the way south of the village, I found a fit camping-place at the extreme southeast corner of Tangwa Bay, about a mile and a half due west of the lofty peak of Kivanga, or Kakunga. By an observation taken by the doctor, we found ourselves to be in latitude five degrees, fifty-four minutes south. None of the natives had heard of our shore-party, and as the Delta of the Lajira and Mogambazi extended for about fifteen miles, and withal was the most impassable of places being perfectly flat, overgrown with the tallest of Matete, Eshinome, and Thornie Bush, and flooded with water, it was useless to fatigue our men searching for the shore-party in such an inhospitable country. No provisions were procurable, for the villages were in a state of semi-starvation, the inhabitants living from hand to mouth on what reluctant fortune threw into their nets. On the second day of our arrival at Yurimbe, I struck off into the interior with my gun-bearer, Kalulu, carrying the doctor's splendid double-barrel rifle, a Riley, number twelve, on the search for venison. After walking about a mile, I came to a herd of zebras. By creeping on all fours, I managed to come within one hundred yards of them, but I was in a bad spot, low prickly shrubs and tzitzi flies alighting on the rifle-site, biting my nose and dashing into my eyes, completely disconcerted me, and, to add to my discontent, my efforts to disengage myself from the thorns alarmed the zebras, which all stood facing the suspicious object in the bush. I fired at the breast of one, but, as might be expected, missed. The zebras galloped away to about three hundred yards off, and I dashed into the open, and hastily cocking the left-hand trigger, aimed at a proud fellow trotting royally before his fellows, and, by a good chance, set a bullet through his heart. A fortunate shot also brought down a huge goose, which had a sharp horny spur on the fore-part of each wing. This supply of meat materially contributed towards the provisioning of the party for the transit of the unknown land that lay between us and Marrera, in Rousseaua, Kowendi. It was not until the third day of our arrival at our camp at Urembi that our shore-party arrived. They had perceived our immense flag hoisted on a twenty-foot-long bamboo above the tallest tree near our camp, as they surmounted the sharp lofty ridge behind Nurembi, fifteen miles off, and had at first taken it for a huge bird. But there were sharp eyes in the crowd, and guided by it they came to camp, greeted us as only lost and found men are greeted. I suffered from another attack of fever at this camp, brought on by the neighborhood of the vile delta, the look of which sickened the very heart in me. On the seventh of January we struck camp, and turned our faces eastward, and for me home. Yet regretfully, there had been enough happiness and pleasure and of pleasantness of social companionship found on the shores of the lake for me, I had seen enough lovely scenes which siren-like invited one to quiet rest, gentle scenes where there was neither jar nor tumult, neither strife nor defeat, neither hope nor disappointment, but rest a drowsy, indolent, yet pleasant rest. And only a few drawbacks to these. There was fever, there were no books, no newspapers, no wife of my own race and blood, no theaters, no hotels, no restaurants, no East River oysters, no mince pies, neither buckwheat cakes nor anything much that was good for a cultivated palate to love. So in turning to say farewell to the then-placid lake and the great blue mountains that grew bluer as they receded on either hand, I had the courage to utter that awful word tearlessly and without one sigh. Our road led up through the valley of the Logiri, after leaving its delta, a valley growing ever narrower until it narrowed into a ravine choked by the now-roaring, bellowing river whose resistless rush seemed to affect the very air we breathed. It was getting oppressive, this narrowing ravine, and opportunely the road breasted a knoll, when a terrace, then a hill, and lastly a mountain, where we halted to encamp. As we prepared to select a camping-place, the doctors silently pointed forward, and suddenly a dead silence reigned everywhere. The queenine which I had taken in the morning seemed to affect me in every crevice of my brain, but a bitter evil remained, and though I trembled under the heavy weight of the riley rifle, I crept forward to where the doctor was pointing. I found myself looking down a steep ravine, on the bank of which a fine buffalo cow was scrambling upward. She had just reached the summit and was turning round to survey her enemy, when I succeeded in planting a shot just behind the shoulder blade and close to the spine, evoking for her a deep bellow of pain. "'She is shot, she is shot,' exclaimed the doctor, that is a sure sign you have hit her. And the men even raised a shout at the prospect of meat. A second planted at her spine, brought her to her knees, and a third ended her. We thus had another supply of provisions, which cut up and dried over a fire, as the Wangwana are accustomed to do it, would carry them far over the unpeopled wilderness before us. For the doctor and myself we had the tongue, the hump, and a few choice pieces salted down, and in a few days had prime corned beef. It is not an apt to state that the rifle had more commendations bestowed on it than the hunter by the Wangwana. The next day we continued the march eastward under the guidance of the Arkyrungozi, but it was evident, by the road he led us, that he knew nothing of the country, though, through his volubility, he had led us to believe that he knew all about the Nongando, Yamba, and Pumburu's districts. When recalled from the head of the caravan, we were about to descend into the rapid Lojiri, and beyond it were three ranges of impassable mountains, which we were to cross in a northeasterly direction, quite out of our road. After consulting with the doctor, I put myself at the head of the caravan and followed the spine of the ridge, struck off due east regardless of how the road ran. At intervals a traveled road crossed our path, and after following it a while we came to the fore to the Lojiri. The Lojiri rises south and southeast of Kakunda Peak. We made the best we could of the road after crossing the river, until we reached the main path that runs from Kara to the Nogando and Pumbura, in southern Kowendi. On the ninth, soon after leaving camp, we left the traveled path, and made for a gap in the area of hills before us, as Pumbura was at war with the people of Manya, Missinga, a district of northern Kowendi. The country teamed with game the buffaloes and zebras were plentiful. Among the conspicuous trees were the hyphenae and borassus palm trees, and a tree bearing a fruit about the size of a six-hundred-pounder cannon-ball, called by some natives Mubaya, according to the doctor, the seeds of which are roasted and eaten. In the Kiswahili tongue Mubaya, Mubaya, Baya mean bad, unpleasant. They are not to be recommended as food to Europeans. On the tenth, putting myself at the head of my men, with my compass in hand, I led the way east for three hours. A beautiful parkland was revealed to us, but the grass was very tall, and the rainy season, which had commenced in earnest, made my work excessively disagreeable. Through this tall grass, which was as high as my throat, I had to force my way, compass in hand, to lead the expedition, as there was not the least sign of a road, and we were now in an untraveled country. We made our camp on a beautiful little stream flowing north, one of the feeders of the Rugufu River. The eleventh still saw me plunging through the grass, which showered drops of rain on me every time I made a step forward. In two hours we crossed a small stream, with slippery cyanidic rocks in its bed, showing the action of furious torrents. These were in abundance, and very large. In crossing an old pagayzi of Unyanwezi, weather-beaten, uttered in a deplorable tone, my kibuyu is dead, by which he meant that he had slipped, and in falling had broken his gourd, which in Kiswahili is kibuyu. On the eastern bank we halted for lunch, and after an hour and a half's march arrived at another stream, which I took to be the Mentambu, at first from the similarity of the land, though my map informed me that it was impossible. The scenery around was very similar, and to the north we had sided a similar tabular hill to the Magdala Mount I had discovered north of Imrera, while going to the Malaga Razi. Though we had traveled only three and a half hours, the doctor was very tired as the country was exceedingly rough. The next day, crossing several ranges, with glorious scenes of surpassing beauty everywhere around us, we came in view of a mighty and swift torrent, whose bed was sunk deep between enormous lofty walls of sandstone rock, where it roared and brawled with the noise of a little Niagara. Having seen our camp prepared on a picturesque knoll, I thought I would endeavor to procure some meat, which this interesting region seemed to promise. I sallied out with my little windchester along the banks of the river eastward. I traveled for an hour or two, the prospect getting more picturesque and lovely, and then went up a ravine which looked very promising. Unsuccessful I strode up the bank, and my astonishment may be conceived when I found myself directly in front of an elephant, who had his large, broad ears held out like studying sails, the colossal monster, the incarnation of might of the African world. Me thought, when I saw his trunk stretched forward like a warning finger, that I heard a voice say, Sista Benator. But whether it did not proceed from my imagination or—no, I believe it proceeded from Kalulu, who must have shouted, Tembo, Tembo, Banayango, Loh, an elephant, an elephant, my master. For the young rascal had fled as soon as he had witnessed the awful colossus in such close vincenage. Recovering from my astonishment, I thought it prudent to retire also, especially with a pea-shooter loaded with treacherous sawdust cartridges in my hand. As I looked behind, I saw him waving his trunk, which I understood to mean, Good-bye, young fellow, it is lucky for you you went in time, for I was going to pound you to a jelly. As I was congratulating myself, a wasp darted fiercely at me and planted its sting in my neck, and for that afternoon my anticipated pleasures were dispelled. Arriving at camp I found the men grumbling, their provisions were ended, and there was no prospect for three days at least of procuring any. With the improvidence usual with the gluttons they had eaten their rations of grain, all their store of zebra and dried buffalo meat, and were now crying out that they were famished. The tracks of animals were numerous, but it being the rainy season the game was scattered everywhere, whereas had we travelled during the dry season through these forests our larders might have been supplied fresh each day. Sometime about six p.m., as the doctor and I were taking our tea outside the tent, a herd of elephants, twelve in number, passed about eight hundred yards off. Our fundy, Asmani and Mabruki Kisesa, were immediately dispatched in pursuit. I would have gone myself with the heavy rally rifle, only I was too much fatigued. We soon heard their guns firing, and hoped they were successful, as a plentiful supply of meat might have then been procured, while we ourselves would have secured one of the elephant's feet for a nice delicate roast. But within an hour they returned unsuccessful, having only drawn blood, some of which they exhibited to us on a leaf. It requires a very good rifle to kill an African elephant. A number eight bore with a Fraser's shell, planted in a temple, I believe, would drop an elephant each shot. Faulkner makes some extraordinary statements about walking up in front of an elephant and planting a bullet in his forehead, killing him instantly. The tale, however, is so incredible that I would prefer not to believe it, especially when he states that the imprint of the muzzle of his rifle was on the elephant's trunk. African travelers, especially those with a taste for the chase, are too fond of relating that which borders on the incredible for ordinary men to believe them. Such stories must be taken with a large grain of salt, for the sake of the amusement they afford to readers at home. In future, whenever I hear a man state how he broke the back of an antelope at six hundred yards, I shall incline to believe a cipher had been added by the slip of a pen, or attributed to a typographical error, for this is almost an impossible feat in an African forest. It may be done once, but it could never be done twice running. An antelope makes a very small target at six hundred yards distance, but then all these stories belong by right divine to the Chasseur who travels to Africa only for the sake of sport. On the thirteenth we continued our march across several ridges, and the series of ascents and descents revealed to us valleys and mountains never before explored, streams rushing northwards swollen by the rains, and grand primeval forests in whose twilight shade no white man ever walked before. On the fourteenth the same scenes were witnessed, an unbroken series of longitudinal ridges, parallel one with another and with Lake Tanganica. The faces of these ridges present abrupt scarps and terraces rising from deep valleys, while the western declivities have gradual slopes. These are the peculiar features of Yuccawendi, the eastern watershed of the Tanganica. In one of these valleys on this day we came across a colony of reddish-bearded monkeys, whose howls or bellowing rang amongst the cliffs that they discovered the caravan. I was not able to approach them, for they scrambled up trees and barked their defiance at me, then bounded to the ground as I still persisted in advancing, and they would have soon drawn me in pursuit if I had not suddenly remembered that my absence was halting the expedition. About noon we sighted our Magdala, the grand towering mount whose upright frowning mass had attracted our eyes, as it lifted itself from above the plain in all its grandeur, when we were hurrying along the great ridge of Rusawa towards the Crocodile River. We recognized the old mystic beauty of the tree-clad plain around it. Then it was bleached, and a filmy haze covered it lovingly. Now it was vivid greenness. Every vegetable, plant, herb, and tree had sprung into quick life, the effect of the rains. Rivers that ran not in those hot summer days now fumed and rushed impetuously between thick belts of mighty timber, brawling horsely in glades. We crossed many of these streams, all of which are feeders of the Ragufu. Beautiful bewitching Yucca-Wendi, by what shall I gauge the loveliness of the wild, free, luxuriant, spontaneous nature within its boundaries? By anything in Europe? No. By anything in Asia? Where? India, perhaps. Yes, or say Mingrelia and Emeritia. For there we have foaming rivers, we have picturesque hillocks, we have bold hills, ambitious mountains, and broad forests. With lofty, solemn rows of trees, with clean and straight stems, through which you can see far-lengthy vistas as you see here. Only in Yucca-Wendi you can almost behold the growth of vegetation. The earth is so generous, nature so kind and loving, that without entertaining any aspiration for a residence or a wish to breathe the baleful atmosphere longer than is absolutely necessary, one feels insensibly drawn towards it, as the thought creeps into his mind that though all is foul beneath the captivating, glamorous beauty of the land, the foulness might be removed by civilized people, the whole region made as healthy as it is productive. Even while staggering under the pressure of the awful sickness, with mind getting more and more embittered, brain sometimes reeling with the shock of the constantly recurring fevers, though I knew how the malaria, rising out of that very fairness, was slowly undermining my constitution and insidiously sapping the powers of mind and body, I regarded the alluring face of the land with a fatuous love, and felt a certain sadness steal over me as each day I was withdrawing myself from it, and felt disposed to quarrel with the faith that seemed to eject me out of Yucca-Wendi. On the ninth day of our march from the shores of the Tengenica we again perceived our magdala mount, rising like a dark cloud to the northeast, by which I knew that we were approaching Imrera, and that our Icarian attempt to cross the uninhabited jungle of Yucca-Wendi was soon be crowned with success. Against the collective counsel of the guides and hypothetical suggestions of the tired and hungry souls of our expedition, I persisted in being guided only by the compass and my chart. The guides strenuously strove to induce me to alter my course and strike in a southwest direction, which, had I listened to them, would have undoubtedly taken me to southwestern Yucca-Nongo, or northeastern Euphipa. The veteran and experienced soldiers asked mournfully if I were determined to kill them with famine, as the road I should have taken was northeast, but I preferred putting my trust in the compass. No sun shone upon us as we threaded our way through the primeval forest, by clumps of jungles, across streams, up steep ridges, and down into deep valleys. A thick haze covered the forests, rain often pelted us, the firmament was an unfathomable depth of gray vapor. The doctor had perfect confidence in me, and I held on my way. As soon as we arrived at our camp the men scattered themselves through the forest to search for food. A grove of singua trees was found close by. Mushrooms grew in abundance, and these sufficed to appease the gnawing hunger from which the people suffered. Had it not been such rainy weather I should have been enabled to procure a game for the camp. But the fatigue which I suffered, and the fever which innervated me, utterly prevented me from moving out of the camp after we once came to a halt. The fear of lions, which were numerous in our vicinity, whose terrible roaring was heard by day and by night, daunted the hunters so much that though I offered five dodie of cloth for every animal brought to camp, none dared penetrate the gloomy glades or awesome belts of timber outside the friendly defence of the camp. End of Chapter 14 Part 2 Chapter 14 Part 3 of How I Found Livingston. How I Found Livingston. Travels, adventures, and discoveries in Central Africa, including four months' residence with Dr. Livingston, by Sir Henry M. Stanley. Chapter 14 Part 3 Our Journey from Yujiji to Unyanyanbei. The morning of the tenth day I assured the people that we were close to food, cheered the most amiable of them with promise of abundant provinder, and hushed the most tricklescent knaves with a warning not to tempt my patient too much, lest we came to angry blows, and then struck away east by north through the forest with the almost exhausted expedition dragging itself weakly and painfully behind me. It was a most desperate position, certainly, and I pitied the poor people far more than they pitied themselves, and, though I fumed and stormed in their presence when they were disposed to lie down and give up, never was a man further from doing them injury. I was too proud of them, but under the circumstances it was dangerous, nay, suicidal to appear doubtful or dubious of the road. The mere fact that I still held on my way, according to the doctor's little pearly monitor, the compass, had a grand moral effect on them, and, though they demuried in plaintive terms and with pinched faces, they followed my footsteps with a trustfulness which quite affected me. For long miles we trudged over smooth sloping sword, with a vision of forest and parkland beauty on our right and left, and in front of us such as Israeli scene. At a pace that soon left the main body of the expedition far behind, I strode on with a few gallant fellows, who, despite their heavy loads, kept pace with me. After a couple of hours we were ascending the easy slope of a ridge, which promised to decide in a few minutes the truth or the inaccuracy of my chart. Presently we arrived at the eastern edge of the ridge, and one thousand feet below the high plateau on which we stood, we distinguished the valley of Emreara. By noon we were in our old camp, the natives gathered round, bringing supplies of food, and to congratulate us upon having gone to Ujiji and returned. But it was long before the last member of the expedition arrived. The doctor's feet were very sore, bleeding from the weary march. His shoes were in a very worn-out state, and he had so cut and slashed them with a knife to ease his blistered feet, that any man of our force would have refused them as a gift, no matter how ambitious he might be to encase his feet, ala wasangu. Finally the guide was very much taken aback when he discovered that the tiny compass knew the way better than he did, and he declared it as his solemn opinion that it could not lie. He suffered much in reputation from having contested the palm with the little thing, and ever afterwards his boasted knowledge of the country was considerably doubted. After halting a day to recruit ourselves, we continued our journey on the eighteenth January, 1872, towards Unyanyembe. A few miles beyond Emreara, Asmani lost the road again, and I was obliged to show it to him by which I gained additional honor and credit as a leader in guide. My shoes were very bad, and it was difficult to decide whose were the worst in condition, the doctors or mine. A great change had come upon the face of the land since I had passed northward unroute to Yujiji. The wild grapes now hung in clusters along the road. The corn ears were advanced enough to pluck and roast for food. The various plants shed their flowers, and the deep woods and grasses of the country were greener than ever. On the nineteenth we arrived at Mapukwa's deserted village. The doctor's feet were very much chafed and sore by the marching. He had walked on foot all the way from Yurimba, though he owned a donkey, while I, considerably to my shame, be it said, had ridden occasionally to husband my strength, that I might be enabled to hunt after a rival at camp. Two huts were cleared for our use, but just as we had made ourselves comfortable our sharp-eyed fellows had discovered several herds of game in the plain west of Mapukwa. Hastily devouring a morsel of cornbread with coffee, I hastened away, with Bilali for a gun-bearer, taking with me the famous Riley rifle of the doctor and a supply of Frazier's shells. After plunging through a deep stream and getting wet again and pushing my way through a dense break, I arrived at a thin belt of forest, through which I was obliged to crawl, and in half an hour I had arrived within one hundred and forty yards of a group of zebras, which were playfully biting each other under the shade of a large tree. Suddenly rising up I attracted their attention, but the true old rifle was at my shoulder, and crack-crack went both barrels, and two fine zebras, a male and a female, fell dead under the tree where they had stood. In a few seconds their throats were cut, and after giving the signal of my success I was soon surrounded by a dozen of my men, who gave utterance to their delight by fulsome compliments to the merits of the rifle, though very few to me. When I returned to camp with the meat I received the congratulations of the doctor, which I valued far higher, as he knew from long experience what shooting was. When the edible portions of the two zebras were hung to the scale, we found, according to the doctor's own figures, that we had seven hundred and nineteen pounds of good meat, which, divided among forty-four men, gave a little over sixteen pounds to each person. Bombay especially was very happy, as he had dreamed a dream wherein I figured prominently as shooting animals down right and left, and when he had seen me depart with that wonderful Riley rifle he had not entertained a doubt of my success, and accordingly had commanded the men to be ready to go after me as soon as they should hear the reports of the gun. The following is quoted from my diary, January 20th, 1872. Today was a halt. On going out for a hunt I saw herd of eleven giraffes. After crossing Mopakwa's stream I succeeded in getting within one hundred and fifty yards of one of them, and fired at it, but though it was wounded I did not succeed in dropping it, though I desired the skin of one of them very much. In the afternoon I went out to the east of the village and came to a herd of six giraffes. I wounded one of them, but it got off despite my efforts. What remarkable creatures they are! How beautiful their large, limpid eyes! I could have declared an oath that both shots had been a success, but they sheared off with the stately movements of a clipper about to tack. When they ran they had an ungainly dislocated motion, somewhat like the contortions of an Indian notch or a Theban d'Ansous, a dreamy, undulating movement which even the tail, with its long fringe of black hair, seemed to partake of. The doctor, who knew how to console an ardent but disappointed young hunter, attributed my non-success to shooting with leaden balls, which were too soft to penetrate the thick hide of the giraffes, and advised me to melt my zinc canteens with which to harden the lead. It was not the first time that I had caused to think the doctor an admirable traveling companion. None knew so well how to console one for bad luck. One knew so well how to elevate one in his own mind. If I killed a zebra, did not his friend Oswell, the South African hunter, and himself long ago come to the conclusion that zebra meat was the finest in Africa? If I shot a buffalo cow, she was sure to be the best of her kind, and her horns were worthwhile carrying home as specimens. And was she not fat? If I returned without anything, the game was very wild, or the people had made a noise, and the game had been frightened, and who could stalk animals already alarmed? Indeed, he was a most considerate companion, and knowing him to be literally truthful, I was proud of his praise when successful, and when I failed I was easily consoled. Ibrahim, the old Pagasi whose feelings had been so lacerated in Yucca Wendy, when his ancient Kibiryu broke, before leaving Yujiji invested his cloth in a slave from Menyema who bore the name of Ulimengo, which signifies the world. As we approached Mopakwa, Ulimengo absconded with all his master's property consisting of a few cloths and a bag of salt, which he had thought of taking to Unyanyembe for trade. Ibrahim was inconsolable, and he kept lamenting his loss daily in such legubrious tones that the people, instead of sympathizing, laughed at him. I asked him why he purchased such a slave, and while he was with him, why he did not feed him. Replied he, tartly, was he not my slave? Was not the cloth with which I bought him mine? If the cloth was my own, could I not purchase what I liked? Why do you talk so? Ibrahim's heart was made glad this evening by the return of Ulimengo with the salt and the cloth, and the one-eyed old man danced with his great joy, and came in all haste to impart to me the glad news. Lo! The world has come back. Sure, my salt and my cloth are also with him. Sure! To which I replied that he had better feed him in future, as slaves required food as well as their masters. From ten p.m. to midnight the doctor was employed in taking observations from the star Canopus, the result of which was that he ascertained Mopakwa, district of Utanda, Yukonongo, to be in south latitude six degrees, eighteen minutes, forty seconds. When comparing it with its position as laid down in my map by dead reckoning I found we differed by three miles, I having laid it down at six degrees fifteen minutes south latitude. The day following was a halt. The doctor's feet were so inflamed and sore that he could not bear his shoes on. My heels were also raw, and I viciously cut large circles out of my shoes to enable me to move about. Having converted my zinc canteens into bullets and provided myself with a butcher and a gun-bearer, I set out for the lovely parkland and plain west of Mopakwa stream, with the laudable resolution to obtain something, and seeing nothing in the plain I crossed over a ridge, and came to a broad basin covered with tall grass, with clumps here and there a fifene palm, with of stray mimosa or so scattered about. Nibbling off the branches of the ladder I saw a group of giraffes, and then began stalking them through the grass, making advantage of the tall grass-grown ant-hills that I might approach the wary beasts before their great eyes could discover me. I contrived to come within one hundred and seventy-five yards, by means of one of these curious hummocks, but beyond it no man could crawl without being observed. The grass was so thin and short. I took a long breath, wiped my perspiring brow, and sat down for a while. My black assistants also, like myself, were almost breathless with the exertion, and the high expectations roused by the near presence of the royal beasts. I toyed lovingly with the heavy riley, saw to my cartridges, and then stood up and turned, with my rifle ready, took one good long steady aim, then lowered it again to arrange the sights, lifted it up once more, dropped it. A giraffe half turned his body for the last time I lifted it, took one quick sight at the region of the heart, and fired. He staggered, reeled, and then made a short gallop. But the blood was spouting from the wound in a thick stream, and before he had gone two hundred yards he came to a dead halt, with his ears drawn back, and allowed me to come within twenty yards of him. When receiving a zinc bullet through the head he fell dead. Alaho Akbar cried Kamisi, my butcher, fervently. This is me, master. I was rather saddened than otherwise at seeing the noble animal stretched before me. If I could have given him back his life I think I should have done so. I thought it a great pity that such splendid animals, so well adapted for the service of man in Africa, could not be converted to some other use than that of food. Horses, mules, and donkeys died in these sickly regions. But what a blessing for Africa would it be, if we could tame the giraffes and zebras for the use of explorers and traders. Mounted on a zebra, a man would be enabled to reach Ujiji in one month from Bagamoyo, whereas it took me over seven months to travel that distance. The dead giraffe measured sixteen feet nine inches from his right forehoof to the top of his head, and was one of the largest size, though some have been found to measure over seventeen feet. He was spotted all over with large black, nearly round patches. I left Kamisi in charge of the dead beast, while I returned to camp to send off the men to cut it up, and convey the meat to our village. But Kamisi climbed a tree for fear of the lions, and the vultures settled on it, so that when the men arrived on the spot, the eyes, the tongue, and a great part of the posteriors were eaten up. What remained weighed as followed when brought in and hung to the scales. One hind leg, one hundred and thirty-four pounds. One hind leg, one hundred and thirty-six pounds. One foreleg, one hundred and sixty pounds. One foreleg, one hundred and sixty pounds. One hundred and fifty-eight pounds. Neck, seventy-four pounds. Rump, eighty-seven pounds. Breast, forty-six pounds. Liver, twenty pounds. Lungs, twelve pounds. Heart, six pounds. Total weight of edible portions, nine hundred ninety-three pounds. Skin and head, one hundred eighty-one pounds. The three days that followed, I suffered from a severe attack of fever, and was unable to stir from bed. I applied my usual remedies for it, which consisted of colosinth and quinine, but experience has shown me that an excessive use of the same cathartic weakens its effect, and that it would be well for travelers to take with them different medicines to cause proper action in the liver, such as colosinth, calomel, resin of jaleb, epsom salts, and that no quinine should be taken until such medicines shall have prepared the system for its reception. The doctor's prescription for fever consists of three grains of resin of jaleb and two grains of calomel, with tincture of cardamoms put in just enough to prevent irritation of the stomach. Made into the form of a pill, which is to be taken as soon as one begins to feel the excessive languor and weariness which is the sure forerunner of the African type of fever. An hour or two later a cup of coffee, unsugared and without milk, ought to be taken to cause a quicker action. The doctor also thinks that quinine should be taken with the pill, but my experience, though it weighs nothing compared against what he has endured, has proved to me that quinine is useless until after the medicine has taken effect. My stomach could never bear quinine unless subsequent to the cathartic. A well-known missionary at Constantinople recommends travelers to take three grains of tartar emetic for the injection of the bilious matter in the stomach, but the reverend doctor possibly forgets that much more of the system is disorganized than the stomach. And, though in one or two cases of a slight attack, this remedy may have proved successful, it is altogether too violent for an enfeebled man in Africa. I have treated myself faithfully after this method three or four times, but I could not conscientiously recommend it. For cases of eutycheria, I could recommend taking three grains of tartar emetic, but then a stomach pump would answer the purpose as well. On the twenty-seventh we set out for misangi. About half-way I saw the head of the expedition on the run, and the motives seemed to be to communicate quickly man after man to those behind, until my donkey commenced to kick and lash behind with its heels. In a second I was made aware of the cause of this excitement, by a cloud of wild bees buzzing about my head, three or four of which settled on my face and stung me frightfully. We raced madly for about half a mile, behaving in as wild a manner as the poor bestung animals. As this was an unusually long march I doubted if the doctor could march it, because his feet were so sore, so I determined to send four men back with the katanda, but the stout old hero refused to be carried and walked all the way to camp after a march of eighteen miles. He had been stung dreadfully in the head and in the face. The bees had settled in handfuls in his hair, but after partaking of a cup of warm tea and some food he was as cheerful as if he had never traveled a mile. At Morera, central Yukinango, we halted a day to grind grain, and to prepare the provision we should need during the transit of the wilderness between Morera and Menyara. CHAPTER XIV OF HOW I FOUND LIVINGSTON How I found Livingston Travels, Adventures, and Discoveries in Central Africa, including four months' residence with Dr. Livingston, by Sir Henry M. Stanley. CHAPTER XIV. PART IV. OUR JOURNEY FROM YUGIGI TO UNION YENBE. On the thirty-first of January at Muaru, Sultan Qat Marambo, we met a caravan under the leadership of a slave of Saeed Ben Habib, who came to visit us in our camp, which was hidden in a thick clump of jungle. After he was seated and had taken his coffee, I asked, What is the news, my friend, that thou hast brought from Union Yenbe? My news is good, master. How goes the war? Ah! Marambo is where? He eats the hides even. He is famished. Saeed Ben Habib, my master, hath possession of Kirira. The Arabs are thundering at the gates of William Kuru. Saeed Ben Majid, who came from Yujiji to Usogoso in twenty days, hath taken and slain Motto, fire, the king. Simba of Kassera hath taken up arms for the defense of his father, Makasiwa of Union Yenbe. The chief of Yugunda hath sent five hundredth men to the field. Ogh! Marambo is where? In a month he will be dead of hunger. Great and good news, truly, my friend. Yes, in the name of God. And whither art thou bound with thy caravan? Saeed, the son of Majid, who came from Yujiji, hath told us of the road that the white man took, that he arrived at Yujiji safely, and that he was on his way back to Union Yenbe. So we have thought that if the white man could go there, we could also. Lo! The Arabs come by the hundred by the white man's road to get the ivory from Yujiji. I am that white man. You? Yes. Why was it reported that you were dead, that you fought with the Wazavira? Ah! My friend, these are the words of Najara, the son of Khamis. See, pointing to Livingston, this is the white man, my father. It is a courteous custom in Africa to address elderly people as Baba, or father, whom I saw at Yujiji. He is going with me to Union Yenbe to get his cloth, after which he will return to the great waters. Wonderful! Thou sayest truly. What has thou to tell me of the white man at Union Yenbe? Which white man? The white man I left in the house of Said, the son of Salim, my house at Quihara. He is dead. Dead? True. You do not mean to say that the white man is dead? True he is dead. How long ago? Many months now. What did he die of? Homa or fever? Any more of my people dead? I know not. Enough, I looked sympathetically at the doctor, and he replied, I told you so. When you described him to me as a drunken man, I knew he could not live. Men who have been habitual drunkards cannot live in this country, any more than men who have become slaves to other vices. I attribute the deaths that occurred in my expedition on the Zambezi much to the same cause. Ah, doctor, there are two of us gone. I shall be the third if this fever lasts much longer. Oh, no, not at all. If you would have died from fever, you would have died at Yujiji when you had that severe attack of remittant. Don't think of it. Your fever now is only the result of exposure to wet. I never traveled during the wet season. This time I have traveled because I was anxious, and I did not wish to detain you at Yujiji. Well, there is nothing like a good friend at one's back in this country to encourage him and keep his spirits up. Poor Shah, I am sorry, very sorry for him. How many times have I not endeavored to cheer him up? But there was no life in him, and among the last words I said to him before parting were, Remember, if you return to Unyanyembe, you die. We also obtained news from the chief of Said bin Habib's caravan that several packets of letters and newspapers and boxes had arrived for me from Zanzibar by my messengers and Arabs. That Salim, the son of Sheik Hashid of Zanzibar, was amongst the latest arrivals in Unyanyembe. The doctor also reminded me, with the utmost good nature, that, according to his accounts, he had a stock of jellies and crackers, soups, fish, and potted ham, besides cheese, awaiting him in Unyanyembe, and that he would be delighted to share his good things. Whereupon I was greatly cheered, and during the repeated attacks of fever I suffered about this time, my imagination loved to dwell upon the luxuries at Unyanyembe. I pictured myself devouring the hams and crackers and jellies like a madman. I lived on my raving fantasies. My poor vexed brain rioted on such homely things as wheat and bread and butter, hams, bacon, caviar, and I would have thought no price too high to pay for them. Though so far away and out of the pale of Europe and America, it was a pleasure to me, during the athumia or despondency into which I was plunged by ever-recurring fevers, to dwell upon them. I wondered that people who had access to such luxuries should ever get sick and become tired of life. I thought that if a wheat and loaf with a nice pad of fresh butter were presented to me, I would be able, though dying, to spring up and dance a wild fandango. Though we lacked the good things of this life above named, we possessed salted giraffe and pickled zebra tongues. We had yugali made by Halima herself. We had sweet potatoes, tea, coffee, dampers, or slapjacks, but I was tired of them. My enfeebled stomach harrowed and irritated with medicinal compounds, and Ipocat, colosinth, tartarimetic, quinine, and such things protested against the coarse food. Oh, for a wheat and loaf, my soul cried in agony, five hundred dollars for one loaf of bread. The doctor, somehow or other, despite the incessant rain, the dew, fog, and drizzle, the marching and sore feet ate like a hero, and I, manfully, sternly resolved to imitate the persevering attention he paid to the welfare of his gastric powers, but I miserably failed. Dr. Livingson possesses all the attainments of a traveler. His knowledge is great about everything concerning Africa. The rocks, the trees, the fruits, and their virtues are known to him. He is also full of philosophic reflections upon ethnological matters. With camp-craft, with its cunning devices, he is au-fait. His bed is luxurious as a spring mattress. Each night he has it made under his own supervision. First he has two straight poles cut, three or four inches in diameter, which are laid parallel one with another, at the distance of two feet. Across these poles are laid short sticks, saplings, three feet long, and over them is laid a thick pile of grass. Then comes a piece of waterproof canvas and blankets, and thus a bed has been improvised fit for a king. It was at Livingston's instigation I purchased milch-goats, by which, first leaving Eugeegi, we have had a supply of fresh milk for our tea and coffee three times a day. Apropos of this, we are great drinkers of these welcome stimulants. We seldom halt drinking until we have each had six or seven cups. We also have been able to provide ourselves with music, which, though harsh, is better than none. I mean the musical screech of parrots from Manuema. Halfway between Muarru, Camarambos village, and the deserted Tongondi of Yucamba, I carved the doctor's initials and my own on a large tree, with the date February 2. I have been twice guilty of this in Africa. Once when we were famishing in southern Yuvenza, I inscribed the date, my initials, and the words starving in large letters on the trunk of a sycamore. In passing through the forest of Yucamba, we saw the bleached skull of an unfortunate victim to the privations of travel. Referring to it, the doctor remarked that he could never pass through an African forest, with its solemn stillness and serenity, without wishing to be buried quietly under the dead leaves, where he would be sure to rest undisturbed. In England there was no elbow room, the graves were often desecrated, and ever since he had buried his wife in the woods of Shampanga he had sighed for just such a spot, where his weary bones would receive the eternal rest they coveted. The same evening when the tent door was down and the interior was made cheerful by the light of a paraffin candle, the doctor related to me some incidents respecting the career and the death of his eldest son, Robert. Readers of Livingston's first book, South Africa, without which no boy should be, will probably recollect the dying Sabutane's regard for the little boy, Robert. Mrs. Livingston and family were taken to the Cape of Good Hope, and then sent to England, where Robert was put in the charge of a tutor. But wearied of inactivity, when he was about eighteen, he left Scotland and came to Natal, once he endeavored to reach his father. Unsuccessful in the attempt, he took ship and sailed for New York, and enlisted in the Northern Army, in a New Hampshire regimen of volunteers, discarding his own name of Robert Moffat Livingston, and taking that of Rupert Vincent, that his tutor, who seems to have been ignorant of his duties to the youth, might not find him. From one of the battles before Richmond, he was conveyed to a North Carolina hospital, where he died from his wounds. On the 7th of February we arrived at the Gombe, and camped near one of its largest lakes. This lake is probably several miles in length, and swarms with hippopotamia and crocodiles. From this camp I dispatched Firaji, the cook, and Chalpera to Unyanyembe, to bring the letters and medicines that were sent to me from Zanzibar, and meet us at Uganda, while the next day we moved to our old quarters on the Gombe, where we were first introduced to the real hunters' paradise in Central Africa. The rain had scattered the greater number of the herds, but there was plenty of game in the vicinity. Soon after breakfast I took Kamisi and Kalulu with me for a hunt. After a long walk we arrived near a thin jungle, where I discovered the tracks of several animals, boar, antelope, elephant, rhinoceros, hippopotamus, and an unusual number of imprints of the lion's paw. Suddenly I heard Kamisi say, Master, master, here is a Simba, lion, and he came up to me trembling with excitement and fear, for the young fellow was an errant coward, to point out the head of a beast, which could be seen just above the tall grass, looking steadily toward us. It immediately afterwards bounded from side to side, but the grass was so high that it was impossible to tell exactly what it was. Having advantage of a tree in my front I crept quietly onwards, intending to rest the heavy rifle against it, as I was so weak from the effects of several fevers that I felt myself utterly incapable of supporting my rifle for a steady aim. But my surprise was great when I cautiously laid it against the tree, and then directed its muzzle to the spot where I had seen him stand. Looking further away, to where the grass was thin and scant, I saw the animal bound along at a great rate, and that it was a lion, the noble monarch of the forest was in full flight. From that moment I ceased to regard him as the mightiest among the brutes, or his roar as anything more fearful in broad daylight than a sucking doves. The next day was also a halt, and unable to contain my longing for the chase, where there used to be such a concourse of game of all kinds, soon after morning coffee, and after dispatching a couple of men with presents to my friend Mamanyara of Ammonia of Bottle memory, I sauntered once more out for the park. Not five hundred yards from the camp, myself and men were suddenly halted by hearing in our immediate vicinity, probably within fifty yards or so, a chorus of roars issuing from a triplet of lions. Instinctively my fingers raised the two hammers, as I expected a general onset on me, for though one lion might fly, it was hardly credible that three should. The looking keenly about I detected, within easy rifle-shot, a fine heart-beast, trembling and cowering behind a tree, as if it expected the fangs of the lion in its neck. Though it had its back turned to me, I thought a bullet might plow its way to a vital part, and without a moment's hesitation I aimed and fired. The animal gave a tremendous jump, as if it intended to take a flying leap through the tree, but recovering itself it dashed through the underbrush, in a different direction from that in which I supposed the lions to be, and I never saw it again, though I knew I had struck it from the bloody trail it left. Neither did I see or hear anything more of the lions. I searched far and wide over the parkland for prey of some kind, but was compelled to return unsuccessful to camp. Disgusted with my failure we started a little afternoon for Manyara, at which place we were hospitably greeted by my friend, who had sent men to tell me that his white brother must not halt in the woods, but must come to his village. We received a present of honey and food from the chief, which was most welcome to us in our condition. Here was an instance of that friendly disposition among central African chiefs when they have not been spoiled by the Arabs, which Dr. Livingston found among the Babisi, and Ba Alunga, and in Manueme. I received the same friendly recognition from all the chiefs, from Imrera, in Yuccauendi, to Unanyembe, as I did from Ma Manyara. On the fourteenth we arrived at Yugunda, and soon after we had established ourselves comfortably in a hut, which the chief lent us for our use, in came Fereji and Chopera, bringing with them Sarmien and Uledi, Manuacera, who it will be recollected where the two soldiers sent to Zanzibar with letters, and who should Sarmien have in charge but the deserter Hamdala, who decamped at Manyara as we were going to Yujiji. This fellow, it seems, had halted at Kaganda, and had informed the chief and the doctor of the village that he had been sent by the white man to take back the cloth left there for the cure of Ma Bruksalim, and the simple chief had commanded it to be given up to him, on his mere word, in consequence of which the sick man had died. On Sarmien's arrival in Unyanyembe from Zanzibar, about fifty days after the expedition had departed for Yujiji, the news he received was that the white man, Shah, was dead, and that a man called Hamdala, who had engaged himself as one of my guides, but who had shortly after returned, was at Unyanyembe. He had left him unmolested until the appearance of Faraji and his companion when they at once, in a body, made a descent on his hut and secured him. With the zeal which always distinguished him in my service, Sarmien had procured a forked pole, between the prongs of which the neck of the absconder was placed, firmly lashed, effectually prevented him from relieving himself out of the encumbrance attached to him so deftly. There were no less than seven packets of letters and newspapers from Zanzibar, which had been collecting during my absence from Unyanyembe. These had been entrusted at various times to the chiefs of caravans, who had faithfully delivered them at my tembe, according to their promise to the consul. There was one packet for me which contained two or three letters for Dr. Livingston, to whom, of course, they were at once transferred with my congratulations. In the same packet there was also a letter to me from the British consul at Zanzibar, requesting me to take charge of Livingston's goods and do the best I could to forward them on to him, dated 25 September 1871, five days after I left Unyanyembe on my apparently hopeless task. Well, doctor, I said to Livingston, the English consul requests me to do all I can to push forward your goods to you. I am sorry I did not get the authority sooner, for I should have attempted it, but in the absence of these instructions I have done the best I could by pushing you towards the goods. The mountain has not been able to advance toward Mohammed, but Mohammed has been compelled to advance toward the mountain. But Dr. Livingston was too deeply engrossed in his own letters from home which were just a year old. I received good and bad news from New York, but the good news was subsequent and wiped out all feelings that might have been evoked had I received the bad only. But the newspapers, nearly a hundred of them, New York, Boston, and London journals were full of most wonderful news. The Paris Commune was in arms against the National Assembly. The Tuileries, the Louvre, and the ancient city Lutitia Parisaurium had been set in flames by the Black Guards of St. Antoine. French troops massacring and murdering men, women, and children, rampant diabolism, and incarnate revenge were at work in the most beautiful city in the world. Fair women converted into demons and dragged by ruffianly soldiers through the streets to universal execration and pitiless death. Children of tender age pinned to the earth and baneted, men innocent or not, shot, cut, stabbed, slashed, or destroyed, a whole city given up to the summer injuria of an infuriate, reckless, and brutal army. Oh, France, oh, Frenchman, such things are unknown even in the heart of Barbaris Central Africa. We spurned the newspapers with our feet, and for relief to sickened hearts gazed on the comic side of our world, as illustrated in the innocent pages of Punch. Poor Punch! Good-hearted, kindly-natured Punch, a traveller's benazin on thee. Thy jokes were as physical, thy innocent satire was provocative of hysteric mirth. Our doors were crowded with curious natives, who looked with indescribable wonder at the enormous sheets. I heard them repeat the words Kabari, Kisungu, white man's news, often, and heard them discussing the nature of such a quantity of news, and expressing their belief that the Wasungu were Mubaya-sani and very Makali, by which they meant to say that the white men were very wicked and very smart and clever, though the term wicked is often employed to express high admiration. On the fourth day from Uganda, or the eighteenth of February, on the fifty-third day from Ujiji, we made our appearance with flags flying and guns firing in the valley of Quihara, and when the doctor and myself passed through the portals of my old quarters I formally welcomed him to Unyanyembe and to my house. Since the day I had left the Arabs, sick and weary almost with my life, but nevertheless imbued with the high hope that my mission would succeed, one hundred and thirty-one days had elapsed, with what vicitudes of fortune the reader well knows, during which time I had journeyed over twelve hundred miles. The myth, after which I travelled through the wilderness, proved to be a fact, and never was the fact more apparent than when the living man walked with me, arm in arm, to my own room, and I said to him, Doctor, we are at last home. CHAPTER XV. PART I. HOMEWARD BOUND. LIVINGSTON SLAST WORDS. THE FINAL FAIRWELL. Unyanyembe was now to me a terrestrial paradise. Livingstone was no less happy. He was in comfortable quarters, which were a palace compared to his hut in Ujiji. Our storerooms were full of the good things of this life, its cloth, beads, wire, and the thousand and one in pedimentia and paraphernalia of travel, with which I had loaded over one hundred and fifty men at Begumayo. I had seventy-four loads of miscellaneous things, the most valuable of which were now to be turned over for Livingstone, for his march back to the sources of the Nile. It was a great day with us, when, with hammer and chisel, I broke open the doctor's boxes, that we might feast our famished stomachs on the luxuries which were to redeem us from the effect of the cacotrophic dura and maize food we had been subjected to in the wilderness. I conscientiously believed that a diet on potted ham, crackers, and jellies would make me as invincible as talus, and that I only required a stout flail to be able to drive the mighty wogogo into the regions of annihilation, should they dare even to wink in a manner I disapproved. The first box opened contained three tins of biscuits, six tins of potted hams, tiny things, not much larger than thimbles, which when opened proved to be nothing more than a tablespoon full of minced meat, plentifully seasoned with pepper. The doctor's stores fell five hundred degrees below zero in my estimation. Next were brought out five pots of jam, one of which was opened, this was also a delusion. The stone jars weighed a pound, and in each was found a little over a teaspoon full of jam. Barely, we began to think our hopes and expectations had been raised too, too high a pitch. Three bottles of curry were next produced, but who cares for curry? Another box was opened, and out tumbled a fat, dumpy dutch cheese, hard as a brick, but sound and good, though it is bad for the liver and unyawemsy. Then another cheese was seen, but this was all eaten up. It was hollow and a fraud. The third box contained nothing but two sugar loaves, the fourth candles, the fifth bottles of salt, harvey, Worcester, and redding sauces, essence of anchovies, pepper, and mustard. Bless me! What food were these for the revivifying of a mora bun such as I was? The sixth box contained four shirts, two pairs of stout shoes, some stockings and shoestrings, which delighted the doctor so much when he tried them on that he exclaimed, Richard is himself again. That man, said I, whoever he is, is a friend indeed. Yes, that is my friend Waller. The five other boxes contained potted meat and soups, but the twelfth containing one dozen bottles of medicinal brandy was gone, and a strict cross-examination of Asmani, the head man of Livingston's caravan, elicited the fact that not only was one case of brandy missing, but also two bales of cloth and four bags of the most valuable beads in Africa, sami-sami, which are as gold with the natives. I was grievously disappointed after the stores had been examined. Everything proved to be deceptions in my jaundice eyes. Out of the tins of biscuits when opened there was only one sound box, the whole of which would not make one full meal. The soups, who cared for meat soups in Africa? Are there no bullocks and sheep and goats in the land from which far better soup can be made than any that was ever potted? Peas or any other kind of vegetable soup would have been a luxury, but chicken and game soups? What nonsense! I then overhauled my own stores. I found some fine old brandy and one bottle of champagne still left, though it was evident in looking at the cloth bales that dishonesty had been at work, and some person happened to suggest Asmani, the head man sent by Dr. Kirk in charge of Dr. Livingston's goods, as the guilty party. Upon his treasures being examined I found eight or ten colored cloths with the mark of my own agent at Zanzibar on them. As he was unable to give a clear account of how they came in his box, they were at once confiscated and distributed among the most deserving of the doctor's people. Some of the watchmen also accused him of having entered into my storeroom and of having abstracted two or three goras of domestics from my bales, and of having, some days afterwards, snatched the keys from the hands of one of my men, and broken them, lest other people might enter and find evidences of his guilt. As Asmani was proved to be another of the moral idiots, Livingston discharged him on the spot. Had we not arrived so soon at Unyanyembe, it is probable that the entire stock sent from Zanzibar had in time disappeared. Unyanyembe, being rich in fruits, grain, and cattle, we determined to have our Christmas dinner over again in style, and being fortunately in pretty good health, I was unable to superintend its preparation. Never was such prodigality seen in a tembe of Unyanyemweze as was seen in ours, nor were ever such delicacies provided. There were but few Arabs in Unyanyembe when we arrived, as they were investing the stronghold of Mirambo. About a week after our return the little mannequin, Sheikh Saeed bin Salim, El-Wahee, who was the commander-in-chief of their forces, came to Quihara from the front. But the little sheikh was in no great hurry to greet the man he had wronged so much. As soon as we heard of his arrival we took the opportunity to send men immediately after the goods, which were forwarded to the Wali's care soon after Livingston's departure for Mekindani Bey. The first time we sent men for them the Governor declared himself too sick to attend to such matters. But the second day they were surrendered, with a request that the doctor would not be very angry at their condition, as the white ants had destroyed everything. The stores that this man had detained at Unyanyembe were in a most sorry state. The expenses were prepaid for their carriage to Ujiji, but the goods had been purposely detained at this place by Saeed Ben Salim since 1867, that he might satisfy his appetite for liquor and probably fall heir to two valuable guns that were known to be with them. The white ants had not only eaten up bodily the box in which the guns were packed, but they had also eaten the gun stops. The barrels were corroded and the locks were quite destroyed. The brandy bottles, most singular to relate, had also fallen a prey to the voracious and irresistible destroyers the white ants, and by some unaccountable means they had imbibed the potent hennessy and replaced the corks with corn cobs. The medicines had also vanished, and the zinc pots in which they had been snugly packed up were destroyed by corrosion. Two bottles of brandy and one small zinc case of medicines only were saved out of the otherwise utter wreck. I also begged the doctor to send to shake Saeed and ask him if he had received the two letters dispatched by him upon his first arrival at Ujiji for Dr. Clerk and Lord Clarendon, and if he had forwarded them to the coast as he was desired to do. The reply to the messengers was in the affirmative, and subsequently I obtained the same answer in the presence of the doctor. On the twenty-second of February the pouring rain which had dogged us the entire distance from Ujiji ceased, and we had now beautiful weather, and while I prepared for the homeward march the doctor was busy writing his letters and entering his notes into his journal which I was to take to his family. When not thus employed we paid visits to the Arabs at Tabura, by whom we were both received with that bounteous hospitality for which they are celebrated. Among the goods turned over by me to Dr. Livingston, while assorting such cloths as I wished to retain for my homeward trip, were First Class American Sheeting, 285 Dottie, 1140 Yards, First Class Kaniki, Blue Stuff, 16 Dottie, 64 Yards, Medium Kaniki, Blue Stuff, 60 Dottie, 240 Yards, Medium Dabwani Cloth, 41 Dottie, 64 Yards, Medium Barsadi Cloth, 28 Dottie, 112 Yards, Printed Hanker Chips, 70 Dottie, 280 Yards, Medium Rahani Cloth, 127 Dottie, 508 Yards, Medium Ismahili Cloth, 20 Dottie, 80 Yards, Medium Sohari Cloth, 20 Dottie, 80 Yards, Four Pieces Fine Kungara Red Check, 22 Dottie, 88 Yards, Four Gar Rahani, 8 Dottie, 32 Yards, Total Number of Cloths, 697 Dottie, 2788 Cloths Besides Cloth, 2788 Yards, there were Assorted Beads, 16 Sacks, Weight Equals, 992 Pounds, Brass Wire, Number 5 and 6, 10 Fresliha, 250 Pounds, One Canvas Tent, Waterproof, One Air Bed, One Vote, Canvas, One Bag of Tools, Carpenters, One Ripsaw, Two Barrels of Tar, 12 Sheets of Ships Copper, Equals, 60 Pounds, Clothes, One Jocelyn Breach Loader, Metallic Cartridge, One Stars Breach Loader, Metallic Cartridge, One Henry 16 Shooter Breach Loader, One Revolver, 200 Rounds Revolver Ammunition, 2000 Rounds Jocelyn and Stars Ammunition, 1500 Rounds Henry Rifle Ammunition, Cooking utensils, Medicine Chest, Books, Sextant, Canvas Bags, etc., etc., etc. The above made a total of about forty loads. Many things in the list would have brought fancy prices in Unyan Yembe, especially the carbenes and ammunition, the saw, carpenters' tools, their beads and wire. Out of the thirty-three loads which were stored for him in my tembe, the stock sent to Livingston, November 1st, 1870, but few of them would be available for his return trip to Rua and Montiouema. The six hundred and ninety-six doughty of cloth which were left to him formed the only marketable articles of value he possessed, and in Manuma, where the natives manufactured their own cloth, such an article would be considered a drug, while my beads and wire, with economy, would suffice to keep him and his men over two years in those regions. His own cloth, and what I gave him, made in the aggregate one thousand three hundred ninety-six doughty, which, at two doughty per day for food, were sufficient to keep him and sixty men six hundred ninety-six days. He thus had four years' supplies. The only articles he lacked to make a new and completely fitted up expedition were the following, a list of which he and I drew up. A few tins of American wheat flour, a few tins of soda crackers, a few tins of preserved fruits, a few tins of salmon, ten pounds of hyacinth tea, some sewing thread and needles, one dozen official envelopes, nautical almanac for eighteen seventy-two and eighteen seventy-three, one blank journal, one chronometer, stopped, one chain for refactory people. With the articles just named he would have a total of seventy loads, but without carriers they were in encumbrance to him, for, with only the nine men which he now had, he could go nowhere with such a splendid assortment of goods. I was therefore commissioned to enlist, as soon as I reached Zanzibar, fifty free men, arm them with a gun and a hatchet each man, besides a Coutrement, and to purchase two thousand bullets, one thousand flints, and ten kegs of gunpowder. The men were to act as carriers to follow wherever Livingston might desire to go. For without men he was simply tantalized with the aspirations roused in him by the knowledge that he had been in abundance of means, which were irrealizable without carriers. All the wealth of London and New York, piled before him, were totally unavailable to him without the means of locomotion. No Minyamwezi engages himself as carrier during wartime. You who have read the diary of my life at Unyanyembe know what stubborn conservatives the Wanyamwezi are. A duty lay yet before me which I owed to my illustrious companion, and that was to hurry to the coast, as if on a matter of life and death, act for him in the matter of enlisting men, as if he were there himself, to work for him with the same zeal as I would for myself, not to halt or rest until his desires should be gratified. And this I vowed to do, but it was a death blow to my project of going down the Nile and getting news of Sir S. Baker. The doctor's task of writing his letters was ended. He delivered into my hand twenty letters for Great Britain, six for Bombay, two for New York, and one for Zanzibar. The two letters for New York were for James Gordon Bennett, Jr., as he alone, not his father, was responsible for the expedition sent under my command. I beg the reader's pardon for republishing one of these letters here, as its spirit and style indicate the man, the mere knowledge of whose life or death was worth a costly expedition. UGG, on Tanganika, East Africa, November, 1871. James Gordon Bennett, Jr., Esquire. My dear sir, it is in general somewhat difficult to write one we have never seen. It feels so much like addressing an abstract idea. But the presence of your representative, Mr. H. M. Stanley, in this distant region, takes away the strangeness I should otherwise have felt, and in writing to thank you for the extreme kindness that prompted you to send him, I feel quite at home. If I explain the forlorn condition in which he found me, you will easily perceive that I have good reason to use very strong expressions of gratitude. I came to Uggie off a tramp of between four hundred and five hundred miles, beneath a blazing vertical sun, having been baffled, worried, defeated, and forced to return when almost in sight of the end of the geographical part of my mission, by a number of hast-case Muslim slaves sent to me from Zanzibar instead of men. The sore heart made still soarer by the woeful sights I had seen of man's inhumanity to man, wracked and told on the bodily frame, and depressed it beyond measure. I thought that I was dying on my feet. It is not too much to say that almost every step of the weary, sultry way was in pain, and I reached Uggie a mere ruckle of bones. There I found that some five hundred pound sterling worth of goods which I had ordered from Zanzibar had unaccountably been entrusted to a drunken, half-cased Muslim tailor, who, after squandering them for sixteen months on the way to Uggie, finished up by selling off all that remained for slaves and ivory for himself. He had divined on the Koran and found that I was dead. He had also written to the Governor of Unyanyembe that he had sent slaves after me to Manuma, who returned and reported my decease and begged permission to sell off the few goods that his drunken appetite had spared. He, however, knew perfectly well from men who had seen me that I was alive, and waiting for the goods and men. But as for morality he is evidently an idiot, and there being no law here except that of the dagger or musket, I had to sit down in great weakness, destitute of everything save a few barter cloths and beads, which I had taken the precaution to leave here in case of extreme need. The near prospect of beggary among Uggie-jans made me miserable. I could not despair because I laughed so much at a friend who, on reaching the mouth of the Zambezi, said that he was tempted to despair on breaking the photograph of his wife. We could have no success after that. Afterward the idea of despair had to me such a strong smack of the ludicrous that it was out of the question. Well, when I had got to about the lowest verge, vague rumors of an English visitor reached me. I thought of myself as the man who went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, but neither priest, Levite, nor Samaritan could possibly pass my way. Yet the good Samaritan was close at hand, and one of my people rushed up at the top of his speed, and in great excitement gasped out, an Englishman coming, I see him, and off he darted to meet him. An American flag, the first ever seen in these parts at the head of a caravan, told me the nationality of the stranger. I am as cold and non-demonstrative as we islanders are usually repeated to be, but your kindness made my frame thrill. It was indeed overwhelming, and I said in my soul, let the richest blessings descend from the highest on you and yours. The news Mr. Stanley had to tell was thrilling. The mighty political changes on the Continent, the success of the Atlantic Cables, the election of General Grant, and many other topics riveted my attention for days together, and had an immediate and beneficial effect on my health. I had been without news from home for years save what I could glean from a few Saturday reviews and punch of 1868. The appetite revived, and in a week I began to feel strong again. Mr. Stanley brought a most kind and encouraging dispatch from Lord Clarendon, whose loss I sincerely deplore, the first I have received from the Foreign Office since 1866, and information that the British Government had kindly sent a thousand-pound sterling to my aid. Up to his arrival I was not aware of any pecuniary aid. I came unsalaried, but this want is now happily repaired, and I am anxious that you and all my friends should know that, though un-cheered by letter, I have stuck to the task which my friends Sir Roderick Merchantson sent me with John bullish tenacity, believing that all would come right at last. The watershed of south-central Africa is over seven hundred miles in length. The fountains thereon are almost innumerable—that is, it would take a man's lifetime to count them. From the watershed they converge into four large rivers, and these again into two mighty streams in the Great Nile Valley, which begins in ten degrees to twelve degrees south latitude. It was air-long, light dawned on the most ancient problem, and gave me a clear idea of the drainage. I had to feel my way, and every step of the way, and was, generally, groping in the dark. But who cared where the rivers ran? We drank our fill and let the rest run by. The Portuguese, who visit Cazembe, asked for slaves and ivory and heard of nothing else. I asked about the waters, questioned and cross-questioned, until I was almost afraid of being set down, as afflicted with hydrocephalus. My last work, in which I had been greatly hindered from want of suitable attendance, was following the central line of drainage down through the country of the cannibals, called manuma, or shortly manema. This line of drainage has four large lakes in it—the fourth I was near when obliged to turn. It is from one to three miles broad and never can be reached at any point or at any time of the year. Two western drains, the Lofira, or Bartelfraer's River, flow into it at Lake Comilando. Then the Great River Lomom flows through the Lake Lincoln into it, too, and seems to form the western arm of the Nile on which Petheric traded. Now I knew about six hundred miles of the watershed, and, unfortunately, the seventh hundred is the most interesting of the whole. For in it, if I am not mistaken, four fountains arise from an earthen mound, and the last of the four becomes, at no great distance off, a large river. Two of these run north to Egypt, Lofira and Lomom, and two run south into Inner Ethiopia, as the Lambai, or Upper Zambizi, and the Kofo. Are not these sources of the Nile mentioned by the Secretary of Minerva in the city of Seys to Herodotus? I have heard of them so often, and at great distances off, that I cannot doubt their existence, and in spite of the sore longing for home that seizes me every time I think of my family, I wish to finish up by their rediscovery. Five hundred pounds sterling worth of goods have been unaccountably entrusted to slaves, and I have been over a year on the way instead of four months. I must go where they lie at your expense, ere I can put the natural completion to my work. And if my disclosures regarding the terrible Ugg slavery should lead to the suppression of the East Coast slave trade, I shall regard that as a greater matter by far than the discovery of all the Nile sources together. Now that you have done with domestic slavery forever, lend us your powerful aid toward this great object. This fine country is blighted, as with a curse from above in order that the slavery privileges of the petty Sultan of Zanzibar may not be infringed, and the rights of the crown of Portugal, which are mythical, should be kept in abeyance till some future time when Africa will become another India to Portuguese slave traders. I conclude by again thanking you most cordially for your great generosity, and am gratefully yours, David Livingston. To the above letter I have nothing to add. It speaks for itself. But then I thought it was the best evidence of my success. For my own part I cared not one jot or tittle about his discoveries, except so far as it concerned the newspaper which commissioned me for the search. It is true I felt curious as to the result of his travels, but since he confessed that he had not completed what he had begun, I felt considerable delicacy to ask for more than he could afford to give. His discoveries were the fruits of his own labours. To him they belonged. By their publication he hoped to obtain his reward which he desired to settle on his children. Yet Livingston had a higher and nobler ambition than the mere pecuniary sum he would receive. He followed the dictates of duty. Never was such a willing slave to that abstract virtue. His inclinations impelled him home, the fascinations of which it required the sternest resolves to resist. With every foot of new ground he travelled over he forged a chain of sympathy which should hereafter bind the Christian nations in bonds of love and charity to the heathen of the African tropics. If he were able to complete this chain of love, by actual discovery and description of them to embody such peoples and nations as still live in darkness, so as to attract the good and charitable of his own land to besture themselves for the redemption and salvation, this Livingston would consider an ample reward. A delirious and fatuous enterprise, a quixotic scheme, some will say. Not it, my friends, for as sure as the sun shines on both Christian and infidel, civilized and pagan, the day of enlightenment will come, and though Livingston, the apostle of Africa, may not behold it himself, nor we younger men, nor yet our children, the hereafter will see it, and posterity will recognize the daring pioneer of Chapter 15, Part 2, Homeward Bound, Livingston's Last Words, The Final Farewell. The following items are extracted in their entirety from my diary. March 12. The Arabs have sent me as many as forty-five letters to carry to the coast. I am turned courier in my latter days, but the reason is that no regularly organized caravans are permitted to leave Unyanyembe now because of the war with Mirambo. What if I had stayed all this time at Unyanyembe waiting for the war to end? It is my opinion that the Arabs will not be able to conquer Mirambo under nine months yet. Tonight the natives have gathered themselves together to give me a farewell dance in front of my house. I find them to be the Pagazes of Singuri, chief of Matisse's caravan. My men joined in, and captivated by the music despite myself, I also struck in, and performed the light fantastic to the intense admiration of my braves, who were delighted to see their master unbend a little from his usual stiffness. It is a wild dance altogether. The music is lively, and evoked from the sonorous sound of four drums, which are arranged before the bodies of four men, who stand in the center of the weird circle. Bombay, as ever comical, never so much at home as when in the dance of the marima, has my water bucket on his head. Chalpera, the sturdy, nimble, sure-footed chalpera, has an ax in his hand, and wears a goat-skin on his head. Baraka has my bear-skin, and handles a spear. My brookie, the bull-headed, has entered into the spirit of the thing, and steps up and down like a solemn elephant. Yulemengo has a gun, and is a fierce drunken seer, and you would imagine he was about to do battle to a hundred thousand, so ferocious is he in appearance. Kamisi and Kamna are before the drummers, back to back, kicking up ambitiously at the stars. Asmani, the embodiment of giant strength, a towering titan, has also a gun, with which he is dealing blows in the air, as if he were Thor slaying myriads with his hammer. The scruples and passions of us all are in abeyance. We are contending demons under the heavenly light of the stars, enacting only the part of a weird drama, quickened into action and movement by the appalling energy and thunder of the drums. The warlike music is ended, and another is started. The coragus has fallen on his knees, and dips his head two or three times in an excavation in the ground, and a choir, also on their knees, repeat in dolorous tones the last words of a slow and solemn refrain. The words are literally translated. Coragus. Oh, oh, oh, the white man is going home. Choir. Oh, oh, oh, going home, going home. Oh, oh, oh. Coragus, to the happy island on the sea, where the beads are plenty. Oh, oh, oh. Choir. Oh, oh, oh, where the beads are plenty. Oh, oh, oh. Coragus, while singeery has kept us, oh, very long, from our homes very long, oh, oh, oh. Choir, from our homes, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Coragus, and we have had no food for very long, we are half starved, oh, for so long. Banna singeery. Choir, for so very long, oh, oh, oh. Banna singeery, singeery, singeery, oh, singeery. Coragus, Murambo has gone to war to fight against the Arabs. The Arabs and Wanguana have gone to fight Murambo. Choir, oh, oh, oh, to fight Murambo. Oh, Murambo, Murambo, oh, to fight Murambo. Coragus, but the white man will make us glad he is going home, for he is going home and he will make us glad. Sh, sh. Choir, the white man will make us glad. Sh, sh. Mm, mm, mm, sh. This is the singular farewell which I receive from the Wanyamwezi of Singeery, and for its remarkable epic beauty, rhythmic excellence, and impassioned force, I have immortalized it in the pages of this book, as one of the most wonderful productions of the chorus-loving children of Wanyamwezi. March 13. The last day of my stay with Livingston has come and gone, and the last night we shall be together is present, and I cannot evade the morrow. I feel as though I would rebel against the fate which drives me away from him. The minutes beat fast and grow into hours. Our door is closed, and we are both of us busy with our own thoughts. What his thoughts are I know not. Mine are sad. My days seem to have been spent in an elysian field. Otherwise, why should I so keenly regret the near approach of the parting hour? Have I not been battered by successive fevers, prostrate with agony day after day lately? Have I not raved and stormed in madness? Have I not clenched my fists in fury, and fought with the wild strength of despair when in delirium? Yet I regret to surrender the pleasure I have felt in this man's society, though so dearly purchased. I cannot resist the sure advance of time which flies this night as if it mocked me, and gloated on the misery it created. Be it so, how many times have I not suffered the pang of parting with friends? I wish to linger longer, but the inevitable would come. Fate sundered us. This is the same regretful feeling, only it is more poignant, and the farewell may be forever. Forever, and forever echo the reverberations of a woeful whisper. I have noted down all he has said to-night, but the reader shall not share it with me. It is mine. I am as jealous as he is himself of his journal, and I have written in German text and in round hand on either side of it, on the waterproof canvas cover, positively not to be opened, to which he has affixed his signature. I have stenographed every word he has said to me respecting the equitable distribution of certain curiosities among his friends and children, and his last wish about his dear old friend, Sir Roderick Mercheson, because he has been getting anxious about him ever since we received the newspapers at Uganda, when we read that the old man was suffering from a paralytic stroke. I must be sure to send him the news as soon as I get to Aden, and I have promised that he will receive the message from me quicker than anything was ever received in Central Africa. Tomorrow night, doctor, you will be alone. Yes, the house will look as though a death had taken place. You had better stop until the rains, which are now near, are over. I would to God I could, my dear doctor, but every day I stop here, now that there is no necessity for me to stay longer, keeps you from your work and home. I know, but consider your health. You are not fit to travel. What is it, only a few weeks longer? You will travel to the coast just as quickly when the rains are over as you will by going now. The plains will be inundated between here and the coast. You think so, but I will reach the coast in forty days, if not in forty I will in fifty certain. The thought that I am doing you an important service will spur me on. March 14th. At dawn we were up, the bales and baggage were taken outside of the building, and the men prepared themselves for the first march towards home. We had a sad breakfast together. I could not eat, my heart was too full, neither did my companion seem to have an appetite. We found something to do which kept us longer together. At eight o'clock I was not gone, and I had thought to have been off at five a.m. Doctor, said I, I will leave two men with you who will stop today and tomorrow with you, for it may be that you have forgotten something in the hurry of my departure. I will halt a day at Tura on the frontier of Unyamwensi for your last word and your last wish, and now we must part. There is no help for it. Goodbye. Oh, I am coming with you a little way. I must see you off on the road. Thank you. Now my men home. Caranghosi, lift the flag and march. The house looked desolate. It faded from our view. Old times and the memories of my aspirations and kindling hopes came strong on me. The old hills round about that I once thought tame and uninteresting had become invested with histories and reminiscences for me. On that brazani I have sat hour after hour, dreaming and hoping and sighing. On that call I stood, watching the battle and the destruction of Taborah. Under that roof I have sickened and been delirious and cried out like a child at the faith that threatened my mission. Under that banyan tree lay my dead comrade, poor Shaw. I would have given a fortune to have had him by my side at this time. From that house I started on my journey to Eugigi. To it I returned as to a friend, with a newer and dearer companion, and now I leave all. Already it appears like a strange dream. We walked side by side. The men lifted their voices into a song. I took long looks at Livingston to impress his features thoroughly on my memory. The thing is, doctor, so far as I can understand it, you do not intend to return home until you have satisfied yourself about the sources of the Nile. When you have satisfied yourself, you will come home and satisfy others. Is it not so? That is it exactly. When your men come back, I shall immediately start for Euphipa. Then, crossing the Rungua River, I shall strike south and round the extremity of the Tanganica. Then a southeast course will take me to Chikumbis on the Laopula. On crossing the Laopula, I shall go direct west to the copper mines of Katanga. Eight days south of Katanga, the natives declare the fountains to be. When I have found them, I shall return by Katanga to the underground houses of Rua. From the caverns, ten days northeast will take me to Lake Komolondo. I shall be able to travel from the lake in your boat up the river Lufira to Lake Lincoln. Then, coming down again, I can proceed north by the Luolaba to the fourth lake, which I think will explain the whole problem, and I will probably find that it is either Chawambay, Baker's Lake, or Piagia's Lake. And how long do you think this little journey will take you? A year and a half at the furthest from the day I leave Unyanyembe. Suppose you say two years, contingencies might arise, you know. It will be well for me to hire these new men for two years, the day of their engagement to begin from their arrival at Unyanyembe. Yes, that will do excellently well. Now, my dear doctor, the best friends must part. You have come far enough. Let me beg of you to turn back. Well, I will say this to you. You have done what few men could do far better than some great travelers I know. And I am grateful to you for what you have done for me. God, God, you save home and bless you, my friend. And may God bring you safe back to all of us, my dear friend. Farewell. Farewell. We wrung each other's hands, and I had to tear myself away before I unmanned myself. But Susie and Choma and Hamoyada, the doctor's faithful fellows, they must all shake and kiss my hands before I could quite turn away. I betrayed myself. Goodbye, doctor, dear friend. Goodbye. The farewell between Livingston and myself had been spoken. We were parted, he to do whatever fate destiny had yet in store for him, to battling against difficulties, to many, many days of marching through wildernesses, with little or nothing much to sustain him save his own high spirit, and enduring faith in God, who would bring all things right at last, and I to that which destiny may have in store for me. But though I may live half a century longer, I shall never forget that parting scene in Central Africa. I shall never cease to think of the sad tones of that sorrowful word farewell, how they permeated through every core of my heart, how they clouded my eyes and made me wish unutterable things which could never be. An audacious desire to steal one embrace from the dear old man came over me, and almost unmanned me. I felt tempted to stop with him and assist him on his long return march to the fountain region, but these things were not to be any more than many other impulsive wishes, and despite the intensified emotions which filled both of us, saved by silent tears and a tremulous parting word, we did not betray our stoicism of manhood and race. I assumed a gruff voice, and ordered the expedition to march, and I resolutely turned my face toward the eastern sky. But ever and on my eyes would seek that deserted figure of an old man in gray clothes, who with bended head and slow steps was returning to his solitude, the very picture of melancholy, and each time I saw him, as the plain was wide and clear of obstructions, I felt my eyes stream and my heart swell with a vague indefinable feeling of foreboding and sorrow. I thought of his lonely figure sitting day after day on the burzani of his house, which by all caravans from the coast would have to pass, and of the many, many times he would ask the newcomers whether they had passed any men coming along the road for him, and I thought, as each day passed, and his stores and letters had not arrived, how he would grieve at the lengthening delay. I then felt strong again, as I had felt that so long ago as I should be doing service for Livingston. I was not quite parted from him, and by doing the work effectively and speedily the bond of friendship between us would be strengthened. Such thoughts spurred me to the resolution to march so quickly for the coast that Arabs in after-time should marvel at the speed with which the white man's caravan traveled from Unyan Yembe to Zanzibar. I took one more look at him. He was standing near the gate of Kwikuru with his servants near him. I waved a handkerchief to him as a final token of farewell, and he responded to it by lifting his cap. It was the last opportunity for we soon surmounted the crest of a land-wave, and began the descent into the depression on the other side, and I never saw him more. God grant, dear reader, that if you ever take to traveling in Central Africa, you find as good and true a man for your companion as I found in noble David Livingston. For four months and four days he and I occupied the same house, or the same tent, and I never had one feeling of resentment against him, nor did he show any against me, and the longer I lived with him the more did my admiration and reverence for him increase. What were Livingston's thoughts during the time which elapsed between my departure for the coast and the arrival of his supplies may be gathered from a letter which he wrote on the 2nd of July to Mr. John F. Webb, American consul at Zanzibar. I have been waiting up here like Simeon's stylites on his pillar, and counting every day and conjuring each step taken by our friend towards the coast, wishing and praying that no sickness might lay upon him, no accident befall him, and no unlooked-for combinations of circumstances render his kind intentions vain or fruitless. Mr. Stanley had got over the tendency to the continued form of fever, which is the most dangerous, and was troubled only with the intermittent form, which is comparatively safe, or I would not have allowed him, but would have accompanied him to Zanzibar. I did not tell himself so, nor did I say what I thought, that he really did a very plucky thing in going through the Marambo War in spite of the remonstrances of all the Arabs, and from Eugigi guiding me back to Unyanyembe. The war, as it is called, is still going on. The danger lay not so much in the actual fighting as in the universal lawlessness the war engendered.