614 LIFE OF DA VID LIVINGSTONE, LL.D. 



agency out here. The business which the young whaler started continued to 

 thrive. Agent succeeded agent as each man went home, after a few years' 

 stay in Zanzibar, to enjoy the fruit of his labours. Boys sent out to learn the 

 business become responsible clerks, then head agents, and subsequently opulent 

 merchants, and so on from year to year, until John Bertram can point with 

 just pride to his own millions and the long list of men whom he taught, en- 

 couraged, sustained by his advice, and enriched. The moral of all this is, 

 that what John Bertram, of Salem, did at Zanzibar can be done by any large- 

 minded, enterprising Englishman or American on the mainland of Africa. 

 Nay ; as there is a larger field on the mainland, and as he can profit by the 

 example of Bertram, he can do more. 



" Men experienced in the ways of Oriental life need not to be told in de- 

 tail how people live in Zanzibar, or how the town appears within, or what the 

 Arabs and half-castes and Wanguana know of sanitary laws. Zanzibar is 

 not the best, the cleanliest, or the prettiest town I have ever seen ; nor, on the 

 other hand, is it the worst, the filthiest, or the ugliest town. While there is 

 but little to praise or glorify in it, there is a good deal to condemn, and while 

 you censure it, you are very likely to feel that the cause for condemnation is 

 irremediable and hopeless. But the European merchants find much that is 

 endurable at Zanzibar. It is not nearly the intolerable place that the smelted 

 rocks of Aden have made Steamer Point, nor has it the parboiling atmosphere 

 of Bushire or Busrah, nor is it cursed by the merciless heat of Ismailia or Port 

 Said. If you expose yourself to the direct rays of the sun of Zanzibar for a 

 considerable time, it would be as fatal for you as though you did an unwise 

 thing on the Aden isthmus. Within doors, however, life is tolerable — nay, it 

 is luxuriously comfortable. We — I mean Europeans — have numbers of ser- 

 vants to wait on us to do our smallest bidding. If we need a light for our 

 cigars, or our walking-cane, or our hats when we go out, we never think of 

 getting these things for ourselves, or of doing anything which another could 

 do for us. We have only the trouble of telling our servants what to do, and 

 even of this trouble we would gladly be relieved. One great comfort to us 

 out here is that there is no society to compel us to imprison our necks within 

 linen collars, or half-strangle ourselves with a silken tie, or to be anxious 

 about any part of our dress. The most indolent never think of shifting their 

 night pyjamas until nearly midday. Indeed, we could find it in our hearts 

 to live in them altogether, except that we fear a little chaff from our neigh- 

 bours. Another luxury we enjoy out here which may not always be obtained 

 in Europe without expense. What think you of a salt-water bath morning, 

 noon, and evening, just before dinner ? Our servants fill our tubs for us, for 

 our residences stand close to the sea, and it is neither trouble nor expense, if 

 we care at all for the luxury, to undress in the cool room, and take a few 

 minutes' cooling in the tub. Though we are but a very small colony of 



