We
noted the dark shadows which crept up above the grove of palms
beyond the village, and above the rampart of mountains which we had
crossed that day, now looming through the fast approaching
darkness; and we listened, with our hearts full of gratitude to
the Great Giver of Good and Dispenser of all Happiness, to the
sonorous thunder of the surf of the Tanganika, and to the chorus
which the night insects sang. Hours passed, and we were still
sitting there with our minds busy upon the day's remarkable events,
when I remembered that the traveller had not yet read his letters.
"Doctor," I said, "you had better read your letters. I will not
keep you up any longer."
"Yes," he answered, "it is getting late; and I will go and read
my friends' letters. Good-night, and God bless you."
"Good-night, my dear Doctor; and let me hope that your news will
be such as you desire."
I have now related, by means of my Diary, "How I found Livingstone,"
as recorded on the evening of that great day. I have been averse
to reduce it by process of excision and suppression, into a mere
cold narrative, because, by so doing, I would be unable to record
what feelings swayed each member of the Expedition as well as myself
during the days preceding the discovery of the lost traveller, and
more especially the day it was the good fortune of both Livingstone
and myself to clasp each other's hands in the strong friendship
which was born in that hour we thus strangely met.
