destitute of support.  The impulse of divine love that had urged him first to become a missionary had now become with him the settled habit of his life.  No new ambition had flitted across his path, for though he had become known as a geographical discoverer, he says he thought very little of the fact, and his life shows this to have been true.  Twelve years of missionary life had given birth to no sense of weariness, no abatement of interest in these poor black savages, no reluctance to make common cause with them in the affairs of life, no despair of being able to do them good.  On the contrary, he was confirmed in his opinion of the efficacy of his favorite plan of native agency, and if he could but get a suitable base of operations, he was eager to set it going, and on every side he was assured of native welcome.  Shortly before (5th February, 1850), when writing to his father with reference to a proposal of his brother Charles that he should go and settle in America, he had said:  “I am a missionary, heart and soul.  God had an only Son, and He was a missionary and a physician.  A poor, poor imitation of Him I am, or wish to be.  In this service I hope to live, in it I wish to die.”  The spectre of the slave-trade had enlarged his horizon, and shown him the necessity of a commercial revolution for the whole of Africa, before effectual and permanent good could be done in any part of it.  The plan which he had now in view multiplied the risks he ran, and compelled him to think anew whether he was ready to sacrifice himself, and if so, for what.  All that Livingstone did was thus done with open eyes and well-considered resolution.  Adverting to the prevalence of fever in some parts of the country, while other parts were comparatively healthy, he says in his Journal:  “I offer myself as a forlorn hope in order to ascertain whether there is a place fit to be a sanatorium for more unhealthy spots.  May God accept my service, and use me for his glory.  A great honor it is to he a fellow-worker with God.”  “It is a great venture,” he writes to his sister (28th April, 1851).  “Fever may cut us all off.  I feel much when I think of the children dying.  But who will go if we don’t?  Not one.  I would venture everything for Christ.  Pity I have so little to give.  But He will accept us, for He is a good master.  Never one like Him.  He can sympathize.  May He forgive, and purify, and bless us.”

If in his spirit of high consecration he was thus unchanged, equally far was he from having a fanatical disregard of life, and the rules of provident living.

“Jesus,” he says, “came not to judge,—­[Greek:  kriuo],—­condemn judicially, or execute vengeance on any one.  His was a message of peace and love.  He shall not strive nor cry, neither shall his voice he heard in the streets.  Missionaries ought to follow his example.  Neither insist on our rights, nor appear as if we could allow our goods to be destroyed without regret:  for if we are