poor men came to his town to sell hoes or skins, he would sit down among them, talk freely and pleasantly to them, and probably cause some lordly dish to be brought, and give them a feast on it, perhaps the first they had ever shared.  Delighted beyond measure with his affability and liberality, they felt their hearts warm toward him; and as he never allowed a party of strangers to go away without giving every one of them—­servants and all—­a present, his praises were sounded far and wide.  “He has a heart! he is wise!” were the usual expressions Livingstone heard before he saw him.

Sebituane received Livingstone with great kindness, for it had been one of the dreams of his life to have intercourse with the white man.  He placed full confidence in him from the beginning, and was ready to give him everything he might need.  On the first Sunday when the usual service was held he was present, and Livingstone was very thankful that he was there, for it turned out to be the only proclamation of the gospel he ever heard.  For just after realizing what he had so long and ardently desired, he was seized with severe inflammation of the lungs, and died after a fortnight’s illness.  Livingstone, being a stranger, feared to prescribe, lest, in the event of his death, he should be accused of having caused it.  On visiting him, and seeing that he was dying, he spoke a few words respecting hope after death.  But being checked by the attendants for introducing the subject, he could only commend his soul to God.  The last words of Sebituane were words of kindness to Livingstone’s son:  “Take him to Maunku (one of his wives) and tell her to give him some milk.”  Livingstone was deeply affected by his death.  A deeper sense of brotherhood, a warmer glow of affection had been kindled in his heart toward Sebituane than had seemed possible.  With his very tender conscience and deep sense of spiritual realities, Livingstone was afraid, as in the case of Sehamy eight years before, that he had not spoken to him so pointedly as he might have done.  It is awfully affecting to follow him into the unseen world, of which he had heard for the first time just before he was called away.  In his Journal, Livingstone gives way to his feelings as he very seldom allowed himself to do.  His words bring to mind David’s lament for Jonathan or for Absalom, although he had known Sebituane less than a month, and he was one of the race whom many Boers and slave-stealers regarded as having no souls: 

“Poor Sebituane, my heart bleeds for thee; and what would I not do for thee now?  I will weep for thee till the day of my death.  Little didst thou think when, in the visit of the white man, thou sawest the long cherished desires of years accomplished, that the sentence of death had gone forth!  Thou thoughtest that thou shouldest procure a weapon from the white man which would be a shield from the attacks of the fierce Matebele; but a more deadly dart than theirs was aimed