333 LIVINGSTONE'S LAST JOURNEY 



come, as the doctor had patched and cobbled his clothes till they would 

 hardly hold together. Stanley then hurried to the coast, in order to 

 send back a number of trusty men as carriers for the doctor's goods. 

 Moreover, he bore the precious journal, which dated from six years 

 back, and contained a wealth of information about countries and peo- 

 ples hitherto unexplored and unknown. 



When Livingstone shook Stanley's hand for the last time, he was 

 parting with the only white man he had seen in the last six years, and 

 the last he would see on this earth. The farewell between these two 

 men was of a most affecting nature, for both knew of the difficulties 

 of the past and the future ; and during the four months in which they 

 had lived together in no common degree of familiarity, they had 

 regarded each other with the greatest interest: the one, a veteran who 

 had borne the burden and heat of the day ; the other, a young knight 

 who had but just won his golden spurs. Although as unlike as possi- 

 ble in character, Stanley was to take up much of the work which the 

 doctor left unfinished, and carry it to a successful end. ^loreover, he 

 was to fill in the public eye as large if not so well-rounded a space; for 

 although Stanley has little of the missionary about him, he has 

 achieved such herculean labors in Africa, and has met with such un- 

 qualified success, that he may well be regarded as the greatest traveler 

 since Livingstone's time. 



In the meanwhile Livingstone was waiting at Unyanyembe for the 

 men Stanley was to send. He employed much of the time in writing 

 letters and noting down what he could learn from the Arabs. A few 

 days after his parting with Stanley his fifty-ninth birthday occurred, 

 and in his journal we find these words : "I again dedicate my whole 

 self to Thee. Accept me, and grant, O gracious Father, that ere this 

 year is gone I may finish my task. In Jesus* name I ask it. Amen ; 

 so let it be. David Livingstone." 



In May he wrote a letter for the New York Herald j and it is 

 in this letter that we find those word's which have struck every reader 

 with their pathetic intenseness, and which may now be seen inscribed 

 upon his tomb in Westminster Abbey. Thus they run : "All I can add 

 in my loneliness is, may Heaven's rich blessing come down on every 

 one — American, English, or Turk — who will help to heal the open sore 



