588 LIFE OF DA VID LIVINGSTONE, LL.D. 



change of limb or position ; there was merely the gentle settling forwards of 

 the frame unstrung by pain, for the Traveller's perfect rest had come. Will 

 not time show that the men were scarcely wrong when they thought " he yet 

 speaketk" — aye, perhaps far more clearly to us than he could have done by 

 word or pen or any other means. Is it, then, presumptuous to think that the 

 long-used fervent prayer of the wanderer sped forth once more — that the con- 

 stant supplication became more perfect in weakness, and that from his " lone- 

 liness" David Livingstone, with a dying effort, yet again besought Him for 

 whom he laboured to break down the oppression and woe of the land ? . . 

 . . . Before daylight the men were quietly told in each hut what had 

 happened.' 



" Thus, then, amid many another touch of pathos which this complete 

 narrative brings, we learn that the hero died upon his knees — that he rose 

 from his couch of mortal anguish, like the gallant and pious soldier of God 

 that he was, to give up the ghost, praying to Heaven for Africa, for us, for 

 himself. The attitude of David Livingstone's death-moment speaks of a faith 

 in Heaven unchangeable, of a joy in Heaven's service supreme, of tenderness 

 of love, of trust, of hope, of prayer for all his fellow creatures, of a mission 

 perfected in agony and surrendered in supplication, but never so nobly 

 triumphant as in that last crowning minute of his lonely life. The Caesar 

 who proudly staggered from his bed, exclaiming that ' an Emperor should die 

 standing,' is outdone in majesty and becomingness by the attitude of this 

 grand Scotchman who passes away in the solitude of the African wild on his 

 knees. In days when the fruits of Livingstone's labours are gathered, and 

 Africa, emancipated and happy, shall know all that she has owed to her friend 

 and martyr, this beautiful and solemn thing will not be forgotten in song and 

 picture ; they will remember, when she has her poets and sculptors at last, 

 how he ' died upon his knees,' ' witnessing' for the Africans. Notwithstand- 

 ing what has been said above there do occur some tender last messages in this 

 Diary. One is the following : — 



" 'My daughter Agnes says — " Much as I wish you to come home, I 

 would rather you finished your work to your own satisfaction than return 

 merely to gratify me." Rightly and nobly said, my darling Nannie. Vanity 

 whispers pretty loudly, " She is a chip of the old block." My blessing on 

 her and all the rest.' 



" After a passage of such transcendant human interest as this, which we 

 have not hesitated to quote at length, geographical disquisitions would come 

 like something out of tune. We prefer to confine our remarks to some of the 

 personal traits and memorials which occur in these volumes — all of them 

 agreeing with that impressive final scene, in portraying to us the perfect 

 Explorer ; dauntless, indomitable, sagacious, patient, gentle, intelligent, keen- 

 eyed, full of confidence in his mission and himself. We have spoken already 



