preaching of the Gospel has had at the commencement on
such individuals, I am unable to tell, except that some
have confessed long afterwards that they then first
began to pray in secret." * * *

And again, a little further on:

* * * " When all knelt down, many of those who
had children, in following the example of the rest, bent
over their little ones; the children, in terror of heing
crushed to death, set up a simultaneous yell, which
so tickled the whole assembly there was often a
subdued titter, to be turned into a hearty laugh as soon
as they heard Amen. This was not so difficult to
overcome in them as similar peccadilloes were in the
case of the women farther south. Long after we
had settled at Mabotsa, when preaching on the most
solemn subjects, a woman might be observed to look
round, and, seeing a neighbour seated on her dress,
give her a hunch with the elbow to make her move
off; the other would return it with interest, and
perhaps the remark, Take the "nasty thing away, will
you? Then three or four would begin to hustle the
first offenders, and the men to swear at them all, by
way of enforcing silence."

Would my patience have resisted such
attacks on it as these? I am more than
afraid that I should have lost it altogether
before I had advanced many miles into the
African continent, and should have continued
my journey in the character of a mere
traveller, bent on making discoveries, but
ennobled no longer by the better ambition of
making conversions.

And suppose I had gone on as a traveller?
Suppose I had toiled through unknown
tracts of country, through savage tribes with
whose disposition towards strangers no man's
previous experience had made me acquainted—
suppose I had dared perils of sickness, of
hunger, and of death from wild animals,
rather than abandon my resolution to open
up a new trade to the world, and to make
such geographical discoveries as no other
man had made in my time — suppose I had
run these risks and compassed these achievements,
whereabouts would the miserable
counterfeit which has hitherto falsely
represented to my mind the sterling virtue of
Perseverance, have at last exposed itself and
shown what it was really worth? Where
should I have discovered unmistakeably that
I was not what I had hitherto believed
myself to be—a genuinely persevering man? At
this point of my journey, I think — if not long before it.

"Next morning, by climbing the highest trees, we
could see a fine large sheet of water, but surrounded on
all sides by the same impenetrable belt of reeds. This
is the broad part of the river Chobe, and is called
Zabesa. Two tree-covered islands seemed to be much
nearer to the water than the shore on which we were,
so we made an attempt to get to them first. It was
not the reeds alone we had to pass through; a peculiar
serrated grass, which at certain angles cut the hands
like a razor, was mingled with the reeds; and the climbing
convolvulus, with stalks which felt as strong as
whipcord, bound the mass together. We felt like
pigmies in it; and, often, the only way we could get
on, was by both of us leaning against a part, and
bending it down till we could stand upon it. The
perspiration streamed off our bodies, and as the sun
rose high, there being no ventilation among the reeds,
the heat was stifling, and the water, which was up to
the knees, felt agreeably refreshing. After some hours'
toil we reached one of the islands. Here we met an
old friend, the bramble bush. My strong moleskins
were quite worn through at the knees, and the leather
trousers of my companion were torn, and his legs
bleeding. Tearing my handkerchief in two, I tied the
pieces round my knees, and then encountered another
difficulty. We were still forty or fifty yards from the
clear water, but now we were opposed by great masses
of papyrus, which are like palms in miniature, eight or
ten feet high, and an inch and a half in diameter.
These were laced together by twining convolvulus, so
strongly that the weight of both of us could not make
way into the clear water. At last, we fortunately
found a passage prepared by a hippopotamus. Eager,
as soon as we reached the island, to look along the vista
to clear water, I stepped in, and found it took me at
once up to the neck."

I should never have got up to my neck in
water. I should have stopped at the bramble-
bushes and saved my moleskins.

Another, and a last example. I have always
been accustomed to consider myself as
possessed in a remarkable degree of the
virtue of self-control. I said " No," this very
last Christmas Day, at a large dinner-party,
when the servant offered me champagne. A
week ago, my wife (to whom I am passionately
attached) implored me to set her up
with a supply of the new-fashioned red stockings.
I did violence to my own feelings, and
said "No," again—remembering the
expense. Yesterday fortnight, I roused my
sinking heart, and nerved my sluggish legs,
and went to a large ball; smiling and
chattering, and making myself agreeable, through
heat, crowding, confusion, and dulness, as if
I really enjoyed the evening. At this very
moment, I am writing these very lines, with
the third volume of a breathlessly interesting
novel tempting me in vain, on a table within
my reach. Is this self-control? It is what
we, who live at home at ease, are accustomed
to consider as representing that virtue in its
most practical and meritorious form. Are
we all deceived, then, by a counterfeit? I
cannot presume to answer that question for
others; but I should be exceedingly glad to
know what readers of well-regulated minds
thought of their own self-control, when they
read these passages in the eighteenth chapter
of Doctor Livingstone's Travels:

"We heard some of the Chiboque remark, ' They
have only five guns; ' and about mid-day Njambi
collected all his people, and surrounded our encampment.
Their object was evidently to plunder us of everything.
My men seized their javelins, and stood on the
defensive, while the young Chiboque had drawn their
swords, and brandished them with great fury. Some
even pointed their guns at me, and nodded to each
other, as much as to say, ' This is the way we shall do
with him.' I sat on my camp-stool, with my double-
barrelled gun across my knees, and invited the chief to