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Livingstone's routes through Africa would extend about seven times between New York City and San Francisco; and in his almost endless marches over plain, through jungle, across mountains and wide rivers, the natives met him almost without exception in a generous and hospitable spirit. Love was the secret of his success. He won his way by kindness.
It's really funny, you know, the way hepatic influences can be idealised made to serve ennobling ends. But Mr. Lindsay is different." "Yes?" Miss Livingstone's intention was neutral, but, in spite of her, the asking note was in the word. "We have done some interesting things together here. He has shown me the queerest places.
But Dorothy was too well balanced a young person to do anything hastily, even to get herself out of a tight place; and while she held Livingstone's proposal under advisement as a line of retreat kept open for use in case of urgent necessity she welcomed it less for the possibilities of a safer position that it offered than for those which it suggested to her fertile mind.
She only half rose to give him her unwounded hand, and when he was gone she sank back again thoughtfully. "I have outstayed all the rest," Lindsay said, with his hat and stick in his hand, in Alicia Livingstone's drawing-room, "because I want particularly to talk to you. They have left me precious little time," he added, glancing at his watch.
From him they learned that a war was going on below, between the Portuguese and the natives. A chief, named Mpende, showed signs of hostility. Livingstone's men, who had become worn and ragged by their long journey, rejoiced at the prospect of a fight. "Now," said they, "we shall get corn and clothes in plenty. You have seen us with elephants, but you don't know what we can do with men."
Two of the children of the house, attracted by Livingstone's story, had come and pressed against her as they listened with interested faces, and she had put her arms about them and drawn their curly heads close to her side. A spray of holly with scarlet berries was at her throat and one of the children had mischievously stuck a sprig of mistletoe in her hair.
I suppose you know I'm your mother come all the way from Massachusetts to live with you. What is the matter? Do you take anything for your sickness?" A groan was Mrs. Livingstone's only answer. "Little hystericky, I guess," suggested Mrs. Nichols, adding that "settin' her feet in middlin' hot water is good for that." "She is nervous, and the sight of strangers makes her worse.
"Mercy," exclaimed the distressed lady, "whose is it? I hope no one will ask for me." "Reckon how it's Marster Livingstone's carriage, 'case thar's Tom on the box," answered the girl, who had her own private reason for knowing Tom at any distance. "Mrs. Livingstone, I'll venture to say," groaned Mrs. Graham, burying her lace cap and flaxen hair still farther in the silken cushions.
Late in November of the same year the Lotos Club honoured another explorer, Henry M. Stanley, who had just returned to New York after many years' absence, completing Livingstone's work in Central Africa. Stanley sat between Mr. Reid, the Club's president, and Chauncey M. Depew.
Livingstone's geographical delineations were remarkably accurate, considering the inadequate surveying instruments with which he worked. Dr. Ravenstein, one of the greatest authorities on African cartography, has said: "I should be loath to reject Livingstone's work simply because the ground which he was the first to explore has since his death been gone over by another explorer."
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