country collected round us this morning all armed.  Children and women were sent away, and Mburuma’s wife who lives here was not allowed to approach, though she came some way from her village in order to pay me a visit.  Only one canoe was lent, though we saw two tied to the bank.  And the part of the river we crossed at, about a mile from the confluence, is a good mile broad.  We passed all our goods first, to an island in the middle, then the cattle and men, I occupying the post of honor, being the last to enter the canoe.  We had, by this means, an opportunity of helping each other in case of attack.  They stood armed at my back for some time.  I then showed them my watch, burning-glass, etc., etc., and kept them amused till all were over, except those who could go into the canoe with me.  I thanked them all for their kindness and wished them peace.”

Nine days later they were again threatened by Mpende: 

"23d January, 1856.—­At Mpende’s this morning at sunrise, a party of his people came close to our encampment, using strange cries, and waving some red substance toward us.  They then lighted a fire with charms in it, and departed uttering the same hideous screams as before.  This is intended to render us powerless, and probably also to frighten us.  No message has yet come from him, though several parties have arrived, and profess to have come simply to see the white man.  Parties of his people have been collecting from all quarters long before daybreak.  It would be considered a challenge—­for us to move down the river, and an indication of fear and invitation to attack if we went back.  So we must wait in patience, and trust in Him who has the hearts of all men in his hands.  To Thee, O God, we look.  And, oh!  Thou who wast the man of sorrows for the sake of poor vile sinners, and didst not disdain the thief’s petition, remember me and Thy cause in Africa.  Soul and body, my family, and Thy cause, I commit all to Thee.  Hear, Lord, for Jesus’ sake.”

In the entire records of Christian heroism, there are few more remarkable occasions of the triumph of the spirit of holy trust than those which are recorded here so quietly and modestly.  We are carried back to the days of the Psalmist:  “I will not be afraid of ten thousand of the people that have set themselves against me round about.”  In the case of David Livingstone as of the other David, the triumph of confidence was not the less wonderful that it was preceded by no small inward tumult.  Both were human creatures.  But in both the flutter lasted only till the soul had time to rally its trust—­to think of God as a living friend, sure to help in time of need.  And how real is the sense of God’s presence!  The mention of the two longitudinal ridges, and of the refusal of the people to give more than two canoes, side by side with the most solemn appeals, would have been incongruous, or even irreverent, if Livingstone had not felt that he was dealing with the living God, by whom every step of his own career and every movement of his enemies were absolutely controlled.