Shaw is improving fast.  I am unsuccessful as yet in procuring soldiers.  I almost despair of ever being able to move from here.  It is such a drowsy, sleepy, slow, dreaming country.  Arabs, Wangwana, Wanyamwezi, are all alike—­all careless how time flies.  Their to-morrow means sometimes within a month.  To me it is simply maddening.

August 30th.—­Shaw will not work.  I cannot get him to stir himself.  I have petted him and coaxed him; I have even cooked little luxuries for him myself.  And, while I am straining every nerve to get ready for Ujiji, Shaw is satisfied with looking on listlessly.  What a change from the ready-handed bold man he was at Zanzibar!

I sat down by his side to-day with my palm and needle in order to encourage him, and to-day, for the first time, I told him of the real nature of my mission.  I told him that I did not care about the geography of the country half as much as I cared about finding Livingstone!  I told him, for the first time, “Now, my dear Shaw, you think probably that I have been sent here to find the depth of the Tanganika.  Not a bit of it, man; I was told to find Livingstone.  It is to find Livingstone I am here.  It is to find Livingstone I am going.  Don’t you see, old fellow, the importance of the mission; don’t you see what reward you will get from Mr. Bennett, if you will help me?  I am sure, if ever you come to New York, you will never be in want of a fifty-dollar bill.  So shake yourself; jump about; look lively.  Say you will not die; that is half the battle.  Snap your fingers at the fever.  I will guarantee the fever won’t kill you.  I have medicine enough for a regiment here!”

His eyes lit up a little, but the light that shone in them shortly faded, and died.  I was quite disheartened.  I made some strong punch, to put fire in his veins, that I might see life in him.  I put sugar, and eggs, and seasoned it with lemon and spice.  “Drink, Shaw,” said I, “and forget your infirmities.  You are not sick, dear fellow; it is only ennui you are feeling.  Look at Selim there.  Now, I will bet any amount, that he will not die; that I will carry him home safe to his friends!  I will carry you home also, if you will, let me!”

September 1st:—­According to Thani bin Abdullah whom I visited to-day, at his tembe in Maroro, Mirambo lost two hundred men in the attack upon Tabora, while the Arabs’ losses were, five Arabs, thirteen freemen and eight slaves, besides three tembes, and over one hundred small huts burned, two hundred and eighty ivory tusks, and sixty cows and bullocks captured.

September 3rd.—­Received a packet of letters and newspapers from Capt.  Webb, at Zanzibar.  What a good thing it is that one’s friends, even in far America, think of the absent one in Africa!  They tell me, that no one dreams of my being in Africa yet!

I applied to Sheikh bin Nasib to-day to permit Livingstone’s caravan to go under my charge to Ujiji, but he would not listen to it.  He says he feels certain I am going to my death.