On reaching Kolobeng from ’Ngami they found the station deserted. The Bakwains had removed to Limauee. Sechele came down the day after, and presented them with an ox—a valuable gift in his circumstances. Sechele had much yet to bear from the Boers; and after being, without provocation, attacked, pillaged, and wasted, and robbed of his children, he was bent on going to the Queen of England to state his wrongs. This, however, he could not accomplish, though he went as far as the Cape. Coming back afterward to his own people, he gathered large numbers about him from other tribes, to whose improvement he devoted himself with much success. He still survives, with the one wife whom he retained; and, though not without some drawbacks (which Livingstone ascribed to the bad example set him by some), he maintains his Christian profession. His people are settled at some miles’ distance from Kolobeng, and have a missionary station, supported by a Hanoverian Society. His regard for the memory of Livingstone is very great, and he reads with eagerness all that he can find about him. He has ever been a warm friend of missions has a wonderful knowledge of the Bible, and can preach well. The influence of Livingstone in his early days was doubtless a real power in mission-work. Mebalwe, too, we are informed by Dr. Moffat, still survives; a useful man, an able preacher, and one who has done much to bring his people to Christ.
It was painful to Livingstone to say good-bye to the Bakwains, and (as Mrs. Moffat afterward reminded him) his friends were not all in favor of his doing so; but he regarded his departure as inevitable. After a short stay at Kuruman, he and his family went on to Cape Town, where they arrived on the 16th of March, 1852, and had new proofs of Mr. Oswell’s kindness. After eleven years’ absence, Livingstone’s dress-coat had fallen a little out of fashion, and the whole costume of the party was somewhat in the style of Robinson Crusoe. The generosity of “the best friend we have in Africa” made all comfortable, Mr. Oswell remarking that Livingstone had as good a right as he to the money drawn from the “preserves on his estate”—the elephants. Mentally, Livingstone traces to its source the kindness of his friend, thinking of One to whom he owed all—“O divine Love, I have not loved Thee strongly, deeply, warmly enough.” The retrospect of his eleven years of African labor, unexampled though they had been, only awakened in him the sense of unprofitable service.