e as are usual on the part
of Christian men when death is near.

The 29th of April was the last day of his travels. In the morning he
directed Susi to take down the side of the hut that the kitanda might be
brought along, as the door would not admit it, and he was quite unable
to walk to it. Then came the crossing of a river; then progress through
swamps and plashes; and when they got to anything like a dry plain, he
would ever and anon beg of them to lay him down. At last they got him to
Chitambo's village, in Ilala, where they had to put him under the eaves
of a house during a drizzling rain, until the hut they were building
should be got ready.

Then they laid him on a rough bed in the hut, where he spent the night.
Next day he lay undisturbed. He asked a few wandering questions about
the country--especially about the Luapula. His people knew that the end
could not be far off. Nothing occurred to attract notice during the
early part of the night, but at four in the morning, the boy who lay at
his door called in alarm for Susi, fearing that their master was dead.
By the candle still burning they saw him, not in bed, but kneeling at
the bedside with his head buried in his hands upon the pillow. The sad
yet not unexpected truth soon became evident: he had passed away on the
furthest of all his journeys, and without a single attendant. But he had
died in the act of prayer--prayer offered in that reverential attitude
about which he was always so particular; commending his own spirit, with
all his dear ones, as was his wont, into the hands of his Saviour; and
commending AFRICA--his own dear Africa--with all her woes and sins and
wrongs, to the Avenger of the oppressed and the Redeemer of the lost.

If anything were needed to commend the African race, and prove them
possessed of qualities fitted to make a noble nation, the courage,
affection, and persevering loyalty shown by his attendants after his
death might well have this effect. When the sad event became known among
the men, it was cordially resolved that every effort should be made to
carry their master's remains to Zanzibar. Such an undertaking was
extremely perilous, for there were not merely the ordinary risks of
travel to a small body of natives, but there was also the superstitious
horror everywhere prevalent connected with the dead. Chitambo must be
kept in ignorance of what had happened, otherwise a ruinous fine would
be sure to be inflicted on them. The secr