his beauty, and the land--the glorious land, and its
inhabitants. Hers is the first grave in all that country
marked as the resting-place of one of whom it is believed and
confessed that she shall live again."

Mrs. Livingstone had an attack of serious illness, accompanied by
paralysis of the right side of the face, and rest being essential for
her, the family went, for a time, to Kuruman. Dr. Livingstone had a
strong desire to go to the Cape for the excision of his uvula, which had
long been troublesome. But, with characteristic self-denial, he put his
own case out of view, staying with his wife, that she might have the
rest and attention she needed. He tried to persuade his father-in-law to
perform the operation, and, under his direction, Dr. Moffat went so far
as to make a pair of scissors for the purpose; but his courage, so well
tried in other fields, was not equal to the performance of such a
surgical operation.

Some glimpses of Livingstone's musings at this time, showing, among
other things, how much more he thought of his spiritual than his
Highland ancestry, occur in a letter to his parents, written immediately
after his return from his second visit to the lake (28th July, 1850). If
they should carry out their project of emigration to America, they would
have an interesting family gathering:

"One, however, will be 'over the hills and far away' from
your happy meeting. The meeting which we hope will take place
in Heaven will be unlike a happy one, in so far as earthly
relationships are concerned. One will be so much taken up in
looking at Jesus, I don't know when we shall be disposed to
sit down and talk about the days of lang syne. And then
there will be so many notables whom we should like to notice
and shake hands with--Luke, for instance, the beloved
physician, and Jeremiah, and old Job, and Noah, and Enoch,
that if you are wise, you will make the most of your union
while you are together, and not fail to write me fully, while
you have the opportunity here....

"Charles thinks we are not the descendants of the Puritans. I
don't know what you are, but I am. And if you dispute it, I
shall stick to the answer of a poor little boy before a
magistrate. M.--'Who were your parents?' _Boy_ (rubbing his
eyes with his jacket-sleeve)--'Never had none, sir.' Dr.
Wardlaw says that the Scotch Independents a