False pride
suggested was the best thing - walked deliberately to him, took off
my hat, and said:
"DR. LIVINGSTONE, I PRESUME?"
"Yes," said he, with a kind, cordial smile, lifting his cap slightly.
I replaced my hat on my head, and he replaced his cap, and we
both grasped hands. I then said aloud:
"I thank God, Doctor, I have been permitted to see you."
He answered, "I feel thankful that I am here to welcome you."
I turned to the Arabs, took off my hat to them in response to the
saluting chorus of "Yambos" I received, and the Doctor introduced
them to me by name. Then, oblivious of the crowds, oblivious of
the men who shared with me my dangers, we - Livingstone and I -
turned our faces towards his house. He pointed to the veranda,
or rather, mud platform, under the broad overhanging eaves; he
pointed to his own particular seat, which I saw his age and
experience in Africa had suggested, namely, a straw mat, with a
goatskin over it, and another skin nailed against the wall to
protect his back from contact with the cold mud. I protested
against taking this seat, which so much more befitted him than I,
but the Doctor would not yield: I must take it.
We were seated - the Doctor and I - with our backs to the wall.
The Arabs took seats on our left. More than a thousand natives
were in our front, filling the whole square densely, indulging
their curiosity, and discussing the fact of two white men meeting
at Ujiji - one just come from Manyuema, in the west, the other from
Unyanyembe, in the east.
Conversation began. What about? I declare I have forgotten.
Oh! we mutually asked questions of one another, such as
"How did you come here?" and "Where have you been all this long
time? - the world has believed you to be dead. "Yes, that was the
way it began: but whatever the Doctor informed me, and that which
I communicated to him, I cannot correctly report, for I found myself
gazing at him, conning the wonderful figure and face of the man at
whose side I now sat in Central Africa. Every hair of his head
and beard, every wrinkle of his face, the wanness of his features,
and the slightly wearied look he wore, were all imparting
intelligence to me - the knowledge I craved for so much ever since
I heard the words, "Take what you want, but find Livingstone."
What I saw was deeply interesting intelligence to me, and unvarnished
truth. I was listening and reading at the same time. What did these
dumb witnesses relate to me?
Oh, reader, had you been at my side on this day in Ujiji, how
eloquently could be told the nature of this man's work!
