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AFRICA AND ITS EXPLORATION. 
CHAPTER X. 
Livingstonia—Blantyre—Qtjillimane. 
It was night, and, in a deep reverie, I sat on a long- 
bench watching an inch of candle burning slowly away. 
The surroundings were four whitewashed walls heavily 
draped with cobwebs, for I was in the deserted home of 
a missionary. 
The silent scene formed a striking contrast to my 
exciting experiences among the savages of Urongwe. 
But disappointment again ! I seemed to have been 
smitten by the bitterest blast that could give the lie to 
the venerable adage, “ It’s an ill wind that blows nobody 
good.” 
Again and again I thought of the day’s proceedings, 
and every incident that had occurred was re-enacted in 
meditation. Above all, I remembered the feeling of 
surprise, when walking up the beach followed by a 
motley crowd of blacks, I only viewed the cheerless 
sight of abandoned houses which lined the streets. In 
a moment all my long-cherished hopes—the hopes that 
had chiefly cheered me in protracted adversity—that I 
would be welcomed with the smile of a British face and the 
warm grasp of a British hand, were dashed to the ground ! 
Every bright anticipation was cruelly obliterated. I 
had walked along the lonely street looking in vain for 
the AVhite Man ! Deserted houses appeared on every 
hand. A few sad-looking tombstones, half buried by 
rank vegetation, added to the gloom of the view, the long 
creepers coiling and drooping to emphasise the sorrow. 
Nature, mankind’s only true friend, never forgets. The 
vicissitudes I had passed through of late had certainly 
