ey, cast anchor at the
mouth of the Zambesi. A steel boat named "The Search," and some smaller
boats, were speedily launched, and the party were moving up the river.
We have no space for an account of Mr. Young's most interesting journey,
not even for the detail of that wonderful achievement, the carrying of
the pieces of the "Search" past the Murchison Cataracts, and their
reconstruction at the top, without a single piece missing. The sum and
substance of Mr. Young's story was, that first, quite unexpectedly, he
came upon a man near the south end of Lake Nyassa, who had seen
Livingstone there, and who described him well, showing that he had not
crossed at the north end, as Musa had said, but, for some reason, had
come round by the south; then, the chief Marenga not only told him of
Livingstone's stay there, but also of the return of Musa, after leaving
him, without any story of his murder; also, at Mapunda, they came on
traces of the boy Wikatani, and learned his story, though they did not
see himself. The most ample proof of the falsehood of Musa's story was
thus obtained, and by the end of 1867, Mr. Young, after a most active,
gallant, and successful campaign, was approaching the shores of
England[68]. No enterprise could have brought more satisfactory results,
and all in the incredibly short period of eight months.

[Footnote 68: See _The Search for Livingstone_, by E.D. Young: London,
1868.]

Meanwhile, Livingstone, little thinking of all the commotion that the
knave Musa had created, was pushing on in the direction of Lake
Tanganyika. Though it was not true that he had been murdered, it was
true that he was half-starved. The want of other food compelled him to
subsist to a large extent on African maize, the most tasteless and
unsatisfying of food. It never produced the feeling of sufficiency, and
it would set him to dream of dinners he had once eaten, though dreaming
was not his habit, except when he was ill. Against his will, the thought
of delicious feasts would come upon him, making it all the more
difficult to be cheerful, with, probably, the poorest fare on which life
could be in any way maintained, To complete his misery, his four goats
were lost, so that the one comfort of his table--a little milk along
with his maize--was taken from him when most eagerly sought and valued.

In reviewing the year 1866, he finds it less productive of results than
he had hoped for: "We now end 1866. It has not been so fruit