be seated also. When he and his counsellors had sat
down on the ground in front of me, I asked what
crime we had committed that he had corne armed in
that way. ' * * * In reference to a man being given,
I declared that we were all ready to die rather than to
give up one of our number to be a slave; that my
men might as well give me as I give one of them, for
we were all free men. * * * My men now entreated
me to give something. * * * I gave him (the chief)
one of my shirts. The young Chiboque were
dissatisfied, and began shouting and brandishing
their swords, for a greater fine.

"As Pitsane felt that he had been the cause of this
disagreeable affair, he asked me to add something else.
I gave a bunch of beads, but the counsellors objected
this time, so I added a large handkerchief. The more
I yielded, the more unreasonable their demands became,
and at every fresh demand, a shout was raised
by the armed party, and a rush made around us with
brandishing of arms. One young man made a charge
at my head from behind, but I quickly brought round
the muzzle of my gun to his mouth, and he retreated.
I pointed him out to the chief, and he ordered him to
retire a little. I felt anxious to avoid the effusion of
blood; and though sure of being able with my Makololo,
who had been drilled by Sebituane, to drive off
twice the number of our assailants, though now a large
body, and well armed with spears, swords, arrows, and
guns, I strove to avoid actual collision. My men were
quite unprepared for this exhibition, but behaved with
admirable coolness. The chief and counsellors, by
accepting my invitation to be seated, had placed
themselves in a trap; for my men very quietly surrounded
them, and made them feel that there was no chance of
escaping their spears. I then said, that, as one thing
after another had failed to satisfy them, it was evident
that they wanted to fight, while we only wanted to
pass peaceably through the country; that they must
begin first and bear the guilt before God: we would
not fight till they had struck the first blow. I then
sat silent for some time. It was rather trying for me,
because I knew that the Chiboque would aim at the
white man first; but I was careful not to appear
flurried, and having four barrels ready for instant
action, looked quietly at the savage scene around."

Backed by a body of men on whom I could
depend, and persecuted by the insatiable
rapacity of a horde of greedy savages, I could
no more have kept that double-barrelled gun
across my knees, and sat looking quietly at
the scene around, than I could command the
evolutions of a vessel, reduced to extremities
within sight of a lee shore. I should instantly
have let off my guns, have shed blood without
the excuse of absolute necessity, have roused
the whole country against me, and have
perished to a dead certainty, in a longer or
shorter time, the victim of my own rashness.
Doctor Livingstone's genuine self-control
brought him and his men out of the scrape
without the degradation of submission on the
one hand, and without the horrors of
slaughter on the other. He got to the end of
his journey, and saw the faces of his own
countrymen again on the western coast. I
should have been buried hundreds of miles
on the wrong side of my destination, and
should never have been heard of more. When
my friends talk next of their own self-control,
or of mine, I think I know a little African
anecdote which is likely to exercise a marvellous
influence in leading the conversation to
some other topic.

Such is the effect which this book of African
Travels has had upon me. It has done
me a world of good in modifying my own.
favourable opinion of myself. Although I
might well rest satisfied with acknowledging
the usefulness of such a result of my reading
as this (not at all a common one, in my case,
when I occupy myself with the works of
travellers in general), I must still ask leave
to say a few more last words before I bid
farewell to Doctor Livingstone and his book.

I have no intention of attempting to tell
the Traveller's story at second-hand. If it
be indeed a great critical triumph to crush a
long narrative into a space which cannot possibly
contain so much as the one hundredth
part of it, in a moderately fair and unmutilated
form, that great triumph has been
already achieved in more instances than I
can undertake to reckon up. I have no need,
as I have certainly no desire, to treat a book
which I am bound to respect, in this summary
fashion. Neither is it my ambition to put on
record, in this place, any favourite opinions
of my own on the future prospects of the
Missionary cause in Africa. Not being a
professed critic, I do not feel bound to set
myself up in the character of a person who
is, by virtue of his office, always better
informed than the author himself on the author's
own subject. My only object, in writing
these final lines, is to express my admiration,
in all seriousness and sincerity, of the manly
truthfulness of Doctor Livingstone's book,
and of the admirable tone of unaffected
modesty in which it is written from the first
page to the last. The author's unflinching
honesty in describing his difficulties and
acknowledging his disappointments in the
attempt to plant Christianity among the
African savages; his sensible independence
of all those mischievous sectarian influences
which fetter so lamentably the exertions of
so many other good men; and his fearless
recognition of the absolute necessity of
associating every legitimate aid which this world's
wisdom can give with the work of preaching
the Gospel to heathen listeners, are merits
beyond all praise, because they are merits
without a parallel in the previous history of
Missionary literature. Surprisingly new and
delightful to read, in this respect, the book is
hardly less remarkable viewed simply as the
narrative of a traveller's adventures. With
certain rare and honourable exceptions, the
tone adopted in these days by literary
travellers in general, is one of flippant mockery
and wearisome self-conceit. The matter-of-
fact tendencies of English readers induce
them, apparently, to grant a species of privilege
to men who profess to treat of something
that has really happened, which they refuse
to extend to men who pursue the higher, or,
in plainer terms, the more imaginative