He Was, In Fact,
In No Great Haste To Urge Sechele To Make A Full Profession Of Faith
By Receiving
The ordinance of baptism; for the chief had,
in accordance with the customs of his people, taken a number of
Wives,
of whom he must, in this case, put away all except one.
The head-wife was a greasy old jade, who was in the habit of attending church
without her gown, and when her husband sent her home to make her toilet,
she would pout out her thick lips in unutterable disgust
at his new-fangled notions, while some of the other wives
were the best scholars in the school. After a while Sechele took the matter
into his own hands, sent his supernumerary wives back to their friends
- not empty-handed - and was baptized.
Mr. Livingstone's station was in the region since rendered famous
by the hunting exploits of Gordon Cumming. He vouches for the truth
of the wonderful stories told by that redoubtable Nimrod,
who visited him during each of his excursions. He himself, indeed,
had an adventure with a lion quite equal to any thing narrated
by Cumming or Andersson, the result of which was one dead lion, two Bechuanas
fearfully wounded, his own arm marked with eleven distinct teeth-marks,
the bone crunched to splinters, and the formation of a false joint,
which marred his shooting ever after.
Mr. Livingstone has a republican contempt for the "King of Beasts".
He is nothing better than an overgrown hulking dog, not a match,
in fair fight, for a buffalo. If a traveler encounter him by daylight,
he turns tail and sneaks out of sight like a scared greyhound.
All the talk about his majestic roar is sheer twaddle. It takes a keen ear
to distinguish the voice of the lion from that of the silly ostrich.
When he is gorged he falls asleep, and a couple of natives approach him
without fear. One discharges an arrow, the point of which has been anointed
with a subtle poison, made of the dried entrails of a species of caterpillar,
while the other flings his skin cloak over his head. The beast
bolts away incontinently, but soon dies, howling and biting the ground
in agony. In the dark, or at all hours when breeding,
the lion is an ugly enough customer; but if a man will stay at home by night,
and does not go out of his way to attack him, he runs less risk in Africa
of being devoured by a lion than he does in our cities of being run over
by an omnibus - so says Mr. Livingstone.
When the lion grows old he leads a miserable life. Unable to master
the larger game, he prowls about the villages in the hope of picking up
a stray goat. A woman of child venturing out at night does not then
come amiss. When the natives hear of one prowling about the villages,
they say, "His teeth are worn; he will soon kill men,"
and thereupon turn out to kill him.
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