I will not
keep you up any longer."
"Yes," he answered, "it is getting late; and I will go and read
my friends' letters. Good-night, and God bless you."
"Good-night, my dear Doctor; and let me hope that your news will
be such as you desire."
I have now related, by means of my Diary, "How I found Livingstone,"
as recorded on the evening of that great day. I have been averse
to reduce it by process of excision and suppression, into a mere
cold narrative, because, by so doing, I would be unable to record
what feelings swayed each member of the Expedition as well as myself
during the days preceding the discovery of the lost traveller, and
more especially the day it was the good fortune of both Livingstone
and myself to clasp each other's hands in the strong friendship
which was born in that hour we thus strangely met. The aged
traveller, though cruelly belied, contrary to all previous expectation,
received me as a friend; and the cordial warmth with which he accepted
my greeting; the courtesy with which he tendered to me a shelter
in his own house; the simple candour of his conversation; graced
by unusual modesty of manner, and meekness of spirit, wrought in me
such a violent reaction in his favor, that when the parting
"good-night" was uttered, I felt a momentary vague fear lest the
fulness of joy which I experienced that evening would be diminished
by some envious fate, before the morrow's sun should rise above Ujiji.
CHAPTER XII. INTERCOURSE WITH LIVINGSTONE AT UJIJI -
LIVINGSTONE'S OWN STORY OF HIS JOURNEYS,
HIS TROUBLES, AND DISAPPOINTMENTS.
"If there is love between us, inconceivably delicious, and
profitable will our intercourse be; if not, your time is lost,
and you will only annoy me. I shall seem to you stupid, and the
reputation I have false. All my good is magnetic, and I educate
not by lessons, but by going about my business." - Emerson's
'Representative Men'.
I woke up early next morning with a sudden start. The room was
strange! It was a house, and not my tent! Ah, yes! I recollected
I had discovered Livingstone, and I was in his house. I listened,
that the knowledge dawning on me might be confirmed by the sound
of his voice. I heard nothing but the sullen roar of the surf.
I lay quietly in bed. Bed! Yes, it was a primitive four-poster,
with the leaves of the palm-tree spread upon it instead of down,
and horsehair and my bearskin spread over this serving me in place
of linen. I began to put myself under rigid mental cross-examination,
and to an analyzation of my position.
"What was I sent for?"
"To find Livingstone."
"Have you found him?"
"Yes, of course; am I not in his house?
