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Sala (Morocco) (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.17
also was sincere and earnest as he replied,-- I feel most thankful that I am here to welcome you. The principal Arabs now advanced, and I was presented by the Doctor to Sayed bin Majid, a relative of the Prince of Zanzibar; to Mahommed bin Sali, the Governor of Ujiji; to Abed bin Suliman, a rich merchant; to Mahommed bin Gharib, a constant good friend; and to many other notable friends and neighbours. Then, remarking that the sun was very hot, the Doctor led the way to the verandah ofuit jam, besides sweet milk and clabber, and then a silver tea-pot full of best tea, and beautiful china cups and saucers to drink it from. Before we could commence this already magnificent breakfast, the servants of Sayed bin Majid, Mohammed bin Sali, and Muini Kheri brought three great trays loaded with cakes, curries, hashes, and stews, and three separate hillocks of white rice, and we looked at one another with a smile of wonder at this Ujiji banquet. We drew near to it, and the Doctor u
Congo (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.17
time, he rose from his sick-bed, and pressed on unfalteringly. The watershed, when he reached it, grew to be a tougher problem than he had conceived it to be. On the northern slope, a countless multitude of streams poured northward, into an enormously wide valley. At its lowest depression, they were met by others, rushing to meet them from the north and east. United, they formed a river of such volume and current that he paused in wonder. So remote from all known rivers — Nile, Niger, Congo — and yet so large! Heedless of his beggared state, forgetful of his past miseries, unconscious of his weakness, his fidelity to his promise drives him on with the zeal of an honourable fanatic. He must fulfil his promise, or die in the attempt! We, lapped as we are in luxury, feeding on the daintiest diet, affecting an epicurean cynicism, with the noble virtues of our youth and earlier life blunted from too close contact with animal pleasures, can only smile contemptuously, compassiona
Niger (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.17
after a time, he rose from his sick-bed, and pressed on unfalteringly. The watershed, when he reached it, grew to be a tougher problem than he had conceived it to be. On the northern slope, a countless multitude of streams poured northward, into an enormously wide valley. At its lowest depression, they were met by others, rushing to meet them from the north and east. United, they formed a river of such volume and current that he paused in wonder. So remote from all known rivers — Nile, Niger, Congo — and yet so large! Heedless of his beggared state, forgetful of his past miseries, unconscious of his weakness, his fidelity to his promise drives him on with the zeal of an honourable fanatic. He must fulfil his promise, or die in the attempt! We, lapped as we are in luxury, feeding on the daintiest diet, affecting an epicurean cynicism, with the noble virtues of our youth and earlier life blunted from too close contact with animal pleasures, can only smile contemptuously, comp
David Livingstone (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.17
Chapter XIII the finding of Livingstone in his book, How I found Livingstone, Stanley has tos doubt was manifest. My mission to find Livingstone was very simple, and was a clear and defini it appeared that he could be no other than Livingstone. True, Sir Samuel Baker was known to be in servant of Dr. Livingstone. What! Is Dr. Livingstone here in this town? Yes, sir. But, are you sure; sure that it is Dr. Livingstone? Why, I leave him just now, sir. Before I coutted to see you. In his book How I Found Livingstone, Stanley recognised the guiding hand of an comforting words to their old friend David (Livingstone), they retired from the verandah, and a lar the goods and the purchase of rations; and Livingstone charged his three servants, Susi, Chuma, anllious and frantic in their opposition, and Livingstone finds that every attempt he makes is thwarteven more energy of movement he returned to Livingstone, crying, It is true, sir, it is a white man[19 more...]
Longfellow (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.17
ought to do. I must trust largely to the fact that I am becoming steeped in Livingstonian ideas upon everything that is African, from pity for the big-stomached picaninny, clinging to the waist-strings of its mother, to the missionary bishop, and the great explorers, Burton, Speke, and Baker. He is a strong man in every way, with an individual tenacity of character. His memory is retentive. How he can remember Whittier's poems, couplets out of which I hear frequently, as well as from Longfellow, I cannot make out. I do not think he has any of these books with him. But he recites them as though he had read them yesterday. March 3. Livingstone reverted again to his charges against the missionaries on the Zambesi, and some of his naval officers on the expedition. I have had some intrusive suspicions, thoughts that he was not of such an angelic temper as I believed him to be during my first month with him; but, for the last month, I have been driving them steadily from my mind
Henry Morton Stanley (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.17
e circumstances I could do no more than exercise some restraint and reserve, so I walked up to him, and, doffing my helmet, bowed and said in an inquiring tone,-- Dr. Livingstone, I presume? Smiling cordially, he lifted his cap, and answered briefly, Yes. This ending all scepticism on my part, my face betrayed the earnestness of my satisfaction as I extended my hand and added,-- I thank God, Doctor, that I have been permitted to see you. In his book How I Found Livingstone, Stanley recognised the guiding hand of an over-ruling and kindly Providence in the following words:-- Had I gone direct from Paris on the search, I might have lost him; had I been enabled to have gone direct to Ujiji from Unyanyembe, I might have lost him. In the warm grasp he gave my hand, and the heartiness of his voice, I felt that he also was sincere and earnest as he replied,-- I feel most thankful that I am here to welcome you. The principal Arabs now advanced, and I was presen
Parke (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.17
ies, which clung to their uneducated natures, were the source of great trouble; though there were brave virtues in most of them, which atoned for much that appeared incorrigible. Wellington is reported to have said that he never knew a good-tempered man in India; and Sydney Smith thought that sweetness of temper was impossible in a very cold or a very hot climate. With such authorities it is somewhat bold, perhaps, to disagree; but after experiences of Livingstone, Pocock, Swinburne, Surgeon Parke, and other white men, one must not take these remarks too literally. As for my black followers, no quality was so conspicuous and unvarying as good-temper; and I think that, since I had more occasion to praise my black followers than blame them, even I must surely take credit for being more often good-tempered than bad; and besides, I felt great compassion for them. How often the verse in the Psalms recurred to me: Like as a father pitieth his own children ! It was on my first exped
Whittier (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.17
drop upon a subject so suddenly, and often, in my interest, I forget what I ought to do. I must trust largely to the fact that I am becoming steeped in Livingstonian ideas upon everything that is African, from pity for the big-stomached picaninny, clinging to the waist-strings of its mother, to the missionary bishop, and the great explorers, Burton, Speke, and Baker. He is a strong man in every way, with an individual tenacity of character. His memory is retentive. How he can remember Whittier's poems, couplets out of which I hear frequently, as well as from Longfellow, I cannot make out. I do not think he has any of these books with him. But he recites them as though he had read them yesterday. March 3. Livingstone reverted again to his charges against the missionaries on the Zambesi, and some of his naval officers on the expedition. I have had some intrusive suspicions, thoughts that he was not of such an angelic temper as I believed him to be during my first month with
Pasargadae Stanley (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.17
Chapter XIII the finding of Livingstone in his book, How I found Livingstone, Stanley has told that story at length. What here follows is arranged from material hitherto unpublished, and is designed to give the main thread of events, to supply some fuller illustration of his intercourse with Livingstone, and his final estimate of him, and, especially, both in this, and in his later explorations, to show from his private Journal something of the workings of his own heart and mind, in the solitude of Africa. Though fifteen months had elapsed since I had received my commission, no news of Livingstone had been heard by any mortal at Zanzibar. According to one, he was dead; and, according to another, he was lost; while still another hazarded the conviction that he had attached himself to an African princess, and had, in fact, settled down. There was no letter for me from Mr. Bennett, confirming his verbal order to go and search for the traveller; and no one at Zanzibar was pre
Samuel Baker (search for this): part 2.13, chapter 2.17
sent in the western country; and that he had only arrived either the same day they had left Ujiji with their caravan, or the day before. To my mind, startling as it was to me, it appeared that he could be no other than Livingstone. True, Sir Samuel Baker was known to be in Central Africa in the neighbourhood of the Nile lakes — but he was not grey-bearded; a traveller might have arrived from the West Coast,--he might be a Portuguese, a German, or a Frenchman,--but then none of these had ever fact that I am becoming steeped in Livingstonian ideas upon everything that is African, from pity for the big-stomached picaninny, clinging to the waist-strings of its mother, to the missionary bishop, and the great explorers, Burton, Speke, and Baker. He is a strong man in every way, with an individual tenacity of character. His memory is retentive. How he can remember Whittier's poems, couplets out of which I hear frequently, as well as from Longfellow, I cannot make out. I do not think
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