and Arabs, and as he launched out into the
untravelled places of Africa, two words rang in his ears, "Find
Livingstone." Enduring many hardships, sometimes fighting and
sometimes coaxing the natives, Stanley pressed on his way, his
general course being in a northwesterly direction, signs, rumors,
and perhaps instincts, leading him to believe that Livingstone, if
found alive, would be discovered somewhere in the region of Lake
Tanganyika. It would be impossible to describe the vagueness and
mysteriousness of the rumors which float to and fro in an
untravelled and savage country, but as the intrepid adventurer
pressed on he heard more and more credible reports of the lost white
man. His first convincing intimation of his being near Livingstone
was when a black met him, and, speaking to him in tolerably good
English, told him that a white man was said to be in a village near
by. This man was one of Dr. Livingstone's servants, and soon the
two, one from America and the other from England, met at Ujiji, on
the shores of the lake.

Stanley remained with Livingstone until March 14th of the following
year, busied with explorations of the fascinating region into which
he had penetrated. He supplied Livingstone with all of the goods
that he could spare, and on his return to Zanzibar he sent him a
caravan with men, supplies, and such articles as he needed,
fulfilling the orders of Mr. Bennett. Stanley never again saw
Livingstone in life.

Livingstone died of malarial fever contracted in the African
marshes, and his faithful blacks embalmed his body and carried it to
the coast, hundreds of miles, bringing with them every article
belonging to the faithful missionary, even to the smallest scraps of
paper on which were penned the last notes of his journey which he
ever wrote. Livingstone was buried with grand ceremony in
Westminster Abbey, and Stanley was one of those who bore him to his
grave.

Stanley's early life was a romance. He was born in Wales, near the
little town of Denbigh, and his parents were so poor that when he
was about three years of age he was sent to the poor-house of St.
Asaph to be brought up and educated at the expense of the parish. At
the age of thirteen he was his own master, and though young, he was
ambitious, well informed, and well poised. He taught school while
yet a lad in the village of Mold, Flintshire, North Wales. Tiring
of this uncongenial occupation, he made his way to Liverpool when he
was a