mured the tired
explorer," and for the next few days it was enough for the two
Englishmen to sit on the mud verandah of Livingstone's house, talking.
Livingstone soon grew better, and November found the two explorers
surveying the river flowing from the north of Tanganyika and deciding
that it was not the Nile.

Stanley now did his best to persuade Livingstone to return home with
him to recruit his shattered health before finishing his work of
exploration. But the explorer, tired and out of health though he was,
utterly refused. He must complete the exploration of the sources of
the Nile before he sought that peace and comfort at home for which
he must have yearned.

So the two men parted--Stanley to carry Livingstone's news of the
discovery of the Congo back to Europe, Livingstone to end his days
on the lonely shores of Lake Bangweolo, leaving the long-sought
mystery of the Nile sources yet unsolved.

On 25th August 1872 he started on his last journey. He had a
well-equipped expedition sent up by Stanley from the coast, including
sixty men, donkeys, and cows. He embarked on his fresh journey with
all his old eagerness and enthusiasm, but a few days' travel showed
him how utterly unfit he was for any more hardships. He suffered from
intense and growing weakness, which increased day by day. He managed
somehow to ride his donkey, but in November his donkey died and he
struggled along on foot. Descending into marshy regions north of Lake
Bangweolo, the journey became really terrible. The rainy season was
at its height, the land was an endless swamp, and starvation threatened
the expedition. To add to the misery of the party, there were swarms
of mosquitoes, poisonous spiders, and stinging ants by the way. Still,
amid all the misery and suffering, the explorer made his way on through
the dreary autumn months. Christmas came and went; the new year of
1873 dawned. He could not stop. April found him only just alive, carried
by his faithful servants. Then comes the last entry in his diary, 27th
April: "Knocked up quite. We are on the banks of R. Molilamo."

[Illustration: LIVINGSTONE ENTERING THE HUT AT ILALA ON THE NIGHT THAT
HE DIED. From Livingstone's _Last Journals_, by permission of Mr. John
Murray.]

[Illustration: THE LAST ENTRIES IN LIVINGSTONE'S DIARY.]

They laid him at last in a native hut, and here one night he died alone.
They found him in the early morning, just kneeling by the side of the
rough bed, his b