ake her toilet, she would pout out her thick lips in
unutterable disgust at his new-fangled notions, while some of the other
wives were the best scholars in the school. After a while Sechele took
the matter into his own hands, sent his supernumerary wives back to
their friends--not empty-handed--and was baptized.

Mr. Livingstone's station was in the region since rendered famous by
the hunting exploits of Gordon Cumming. He vouches for the truth of
the wonderful stories told by that redoubtable Nimrod, who visited him
during each of his excursions. He himself, indeed, had an adventure with
a lion quite equal to any thing narrated by Cumming or Andersson, the
result of which was one dead lion, two Bechuanas fearfully wounded, his
own arm marked with eleven distinct teeth-marks, the bone crunched to
splinters, and the formation of a false joint, which marred his shooting
ever after.

Mr. Livingstone has a republican contempt for the "King of Beasts". He
is nothing better than an overgrown hulking dog, not a match, in fair
fight, for a buffalo. If a traveler encounter him by daylight, he turns
tail and sneaks out of sight like a scared greyhound. All the talk about
his majestic roar is sheer twaddle. It takes a keen ear to distinguish
the voice of the lion from that of the silly ostrich. When he is gorged
he falls asleep, and a couple of natives approach him without fear. One
discharges an arrow, the point of which has been anointed with a subtle
poison, made of the dried entrails of a species of caterpillar, while
the other flings his skin cloak over his head. The beast bolts away
incontinently, but soon dies, howling and biting the ground in agony.
In the dark, or at all hours when breeding, the lion is an ugly enough
customer; but if a man will stay at home by night, and does not go out
of his way to attack him, he runs less risk in Africa of being devoured
by a lion than he does in our cities of being run over by an omnibus--so
says Mr. Livingstone.

When the lion grows old he leads a miserable life. Unable to master the
larger game, he prowls about the villages in the hope of picking up a
stray goat. A woman of child venturing out at night does not then come
amiss. When the natives hear of one prowling about the villages, they
say, "His teeth are worn; he will soon kill men," and thereupon turn out
to kill him. This is the only foundation for the common belief that
when the lion has once tasted human flesh he will e