en's loads of cloth, glass beads and brass-wire,
a canvas boat, a waterproof tent, two breech-loaders and other weapons,
ammunition, tools, and cooking utensils. All these things were
invaluable to Livingstone, who was determined to remain in Africa at any
cost until his task was accomplished.

The day of parting came--March 14, 1872. Stanley was very depressed,
believing that the parting was for ever. Livingstone went with him a
little way and then bade him a hearty farewell, and while Stanley made
haste towards the coast the Doctor turned back to Tabora and was again
alone in the immense wilds of Africa. But he had still his faithful
servants Susi and Chuma with him.

THE DEATH OF LIVINGSTONE

At Zanzibar Stanley was to engage a troop of stout, reliable porters and
send them to Tabora, where Livingstone was to await their arrival. He
had entrusted his journals, letters, and maps to Stanley's care, and
that was fortunate, for when Stanley first arrived in England his
narrative was doubted, and he was coldly received. Subsequently a
revulsion of feeling set in, and it was generally recognised that he had
performed a brilliant feat.

In due time the new supply of porters turned up at Tabora, fifty-seven
men. They were excellent and trustworthy, and in a letter to Stanley,
Livingstone says that he did not know how to thank him sufficiently for
this new service. At the end of August the indefatigable Doctor set off
on his last journey. He made for Tanganyika, and on New Year's Day,
1873, he was near Lake Bangweolo. It rained harder than ever, pouring
down as if the flood-gates of heaven were opened. The caravan struggled
slowly on through the wet, sometimes marching for hours through sheets
of water, where only the eddies of the current distinguished the river
from the adjoining swamps and flooded lands. The natives were
unfriendly, refused to supply provisions, and led the strangers astray.
Livingstone had never had such a difficult journey.

His plan was to go round the south of Lake Bangweolo to the Luapula,
which flows out of the lake and runs to the Lualaba. Then he meant to
follow the water in its course to the north, and ascertain its direction
and destination.

But whichever way the mysterious river made its way to the ocean, the
journey was long, and Livingstone's days were numbered. He had long been
ill, and his condition was aggravated by the hardships of the journey.
His body was worn out, and undermin