92 



WRETCHED IGNORANCE. 



strides and astonishing rapidity of motion, it rivals the fleetest 

 horses in its race for life, while its feet are used with remarkable 

 dexterity in warding off the dogs. Its splendid coat of glossy 

 black, and white-tipped wings, flash in the sunshine, as it runs, 

 with peculiar beauty. Its quick and far-reaching vision consti- 

 tutes this singular individual the sentinel of the plains, and its 

 timely alarm is the signal for a general stampede of all the 

 game in sight. 



About the wells of Motlatsa are clustered the homes of 

 numerous Bakalahari, who, though kindly disposed, and willing 

 enough to hear the missionary, were yet so wretchedly ignorant 

 and degraded, so driven by the wants of their poor bodies, that 

 Livingstone was compelled to fall back only on the great de- 

 signs of infinite compassion and sovereign grace for support in 

 his labors among them ; repeatedly, as he was in their midst, 

 hardly an appreciable effect was observed. It was almost 

 impossible for these poor creatures to restrain their amusement 

 when he would kneel down to pray. They saw no God, and 

 the idea of talking to an unseen being was ridiculous to them. 

 Some of these tribes are absolutely wanting in the remotest 

 approaches to music, and are wild with laughter if singing is 

 begun in their presence. Yet these beings believe in a God. 

 Is it instinct, or the tuition of the Spirit of the Highest, which 

 instructs them to refer every inexplicable occurrence to a 

 Supreme Being? They believe that there is a God ; they do not 

 understand that they may approach him. The missionaries 

 anions the Bechuana tribes and the Caffres have found no idols, 

 no places of worship, no prayer of any sort. The idea of an 

 altar must be given them ; feeling that an Unseen has to do with 

 them, they have no sort of conception of that Unseen which 

 justifies their acting with the slightest regard for it. 



From these wells the journey of Livingstone lay toward 

 Nchokotsa, along the dry bed of the Mokoko. This is the 

 region of the salt pans again, and every fountain reminds the 

 traveller of the fact. Livingstone records that on one of the 

 salt pans passed in this trip there was a cake of salt an inch and 

 a half in thickness. 



All along, just in the edge of this desert, are large flocks of 

 sheep and goats, the treasures of the Bamangwato. The rich 



