DAVID LIVINGSTONE, THE BELOVED MISSIONARY 305 
The bread' was almost always baked in an oven which was a hole 
in the ground; butter was churned in a jar; candles made in wooden 
moulds; and soap procured from the ashes of a plant. Livingstone 
does not forget to pay a tribute to his wife—a valuable helpmeet. He 
wrote in his first published book: “Married life is all the sweeter 
when so many comforts emanate directly from the thrifty, striving 
housewife's hands." 
The first season had passed away successfully at Kolobeng, owing 
to the irrigation works, but the drought proved too much for their 
slender source in the second year, and the river Kolobeng shrank to a 
mere rivulet. During the whole of the second and third years but ten 
inches of rain fell, and the fourth year was but little better. The river 
entirely disappeared, and its bed had to be literally mined in order to 
procure moisture for the more precious fruit-trees. Pasturage for 
cattle failed, and the cows gave no milk; the tribe was in a bad way, 
and became restless again. The restlessness seemed infectious; for 
Livingstone, whose eyes looked ever northward, and who longed for 
power to disseminate native deacons and schoolmasters among the 
people of the interior, made up his mind that Kolobeng, too, must be 
left behind, and that pastures new and more desirable must be sought. 
If the natives could not live at Kolobeng, it was very evident that 
Europeans could not either, and the sooner a new station was selected 
the better for the tribe among which he was living, and the better also 
for the prosperity of his Gospel preaching. 
In all his plans not one thought occurred of retreating, as he 
easily might have done, to the colony, and living in comparative ease 
and perfect security. No; his eyes were looking fearlessly northward 
(and his whole soul breathed the one word “Onward!” 
