SETTLEMENT OF LOANDA. 173 



The generous Englishman was glad to attend him in his 

 sickness, and happy in the privilege of surrendering his own 

 bed to the man who had known no better pillow than the 

 ground for so many months. And not only Mr. Gabriel, but 

 many Portuguese gentlemen were eager with their kindnesses. 

 "Whoever has not felt the loneliness of such a life can hardly 

 appreciate fully the happiness of such attentions. The friendly 

 Makololo had been kind and zealous in his service, but they 

 were heathen, and the very kindness in which they proved their 

 love only provoked a deeper anxiety, for they were his care ; in 

 their dusky forms all the ignorance and ills of Africa were 

 revived before him. It was very pleasant to be cared for by 

 equals, whose faces revived no anxiety. The good nursing of 

 his friend, and the skill of Mr. Cockin, surgeon of an English 

 ship which stood in the harbor, with the presence of the warm- 

 hearted naval officers, were mightier, under God, than the ill- 

 ness, and Dr. Livingstone was soon sufficiently restored and 

 refreshed to be deeply interested in all surrounding objects. 

 Loanda itself, with its lofty cliffs casting their rugged shadows 

 on the sea, whose waves are forever breaking against their sides, 

 and its massive castle frowning from a beetling crag; its old 

 stone mansions and huts of daub and thatch ; its motley popu- 

 lace of Portuguese, mulattoes and negroes; its harbor, where 

 ships of all nations display their flags, is a place worthy of the 

 traveller's attention. But, as the capital of Angola, it opens to 

 him a volume, imperfect still and indistinctly written, but car- 

 rying him back to the same eventful era in which our own land 

 was snatched out of the sea and made known to the world. 

 About the time Columbus discovered America, Diego Cam was 

 planting the ensign of Portugal on the coast of Angola ; and the 

 city — "St. Paul de Loanda" — was founded in 1578. It has 

 been a splendid city. When approached from the sea, its forts 

 and castles, and domes and spires and stone palaces, all white 

 and gleaming in the sunshine — massive memorials of former 

 glory — contradict the thought of benighted wilds. When ap- 

 proached from the inland, the same stately structures burst on 

 the view like works of enchantment. White men lean over the 

 prows of their ships and wonder why so vigorous and decided a 

 messenger of civilization has stood powerless by the sea during 



