In 1849, began the series of explorations that continued till his death.  “The end of geographical discovery is the beginning of missionary enterprise,” he wrote.  Burning with zeal to reveal Africa to the world, Livingstone never forgot the main aim of his life,—­to open ways for the planting of mission stations among all the scores of tribes he visited.  “I hope God will in mercy permit me to establish the Gospel somewhere in this region,” he wrote from the land of the Barotse, on the Upper Zambesi.  Does he now look down from his eternal home upon that very land whose churches and schools are the fruition of the labors of French Protestants; whose king, in London to attend the coronation of Edward VII., said he wanted more teachers and more men to train his people to build houses and work iron?  He prayed that he might live to see “the double influence of the spirit of commerce and Christianity employed to stay the bitter fountain of African misery.”  The glowing zeal of the Christian philanthropist and the untiring ardor of the born explorer were perfectly blended in the spirit of the great pioneer of modern African discovery.

Livingstone’s routes through Africa would extend about seven times between New York City and San Francisco; and in his almost endless marches over plain, through jungle, across mountains and wide rivers, the natives met him almost without exception in a generous and hospitable spirit.  Love was the secret of his success.  He won his way by kindness.  Give the barbarous African time to see that you wish him well, that you would do him good in ways he knows are helpful, and his affection is evoked.

It was said that the British could never establish their rule over the great Wabemba tribe, southwest of Tanganyika, without a military campaign.  In 1894, two humble Catholic fathers entered Lobemba, walked straight to the chief town, and were told that if they did not leave the country in one day they would be killed.  As the stern message was delivered, they saw an old woman on the ground in great pain from a severe wound.  The news soon spread that these unwelcome strangers had washed and dressed the wound, and made the old woman comfortable.  “These people love men,” was the word that passed from lip to lip, as the sick and suffering came out from the town to be treated, while thousands of natives looked on.  At nightfall the white men were told they might remain another day; they ministered for eleven days to those who needed help, and were then invited to remain the rest of their lives.  The mission stations of the White Fathers are to-day scattered all over Lobemba; the country is open in every corner to the whites, and in 1899 British rule was established.  The victory was won, not with guns, but by gentle, helpful kindness.

Livingstone never believed that the sympathies of our common humanity are extinct even in the bosom of a savage.  Enfolded in the panoply of Christian kindness, he passed unscathed among the most warlike tribes.  No memory of wrong or pain rankled in the heart of any man, woman, or child he ever met.  He is known to-day as “the good old man” wherever his path led him in those twenty years.