to develop his hobbies and weak side.  I think it possible, however, that Livingstone, with an unsuitable companion, might feel annoyance.  I know I should do so very readily, if a man’s character was of that oblique nature that it was an impossibility to travel in his company.  I have seen men, in whose company I felt nothing but a thraldom, which it was a duty to my own self-respect to cast off as soon as possible; a feeling of utter incompatibility, with whose nature mine could never assimilate.  But Livingstone was a character that I venerated, that called forth all my enthusiasm, that evoked nothing but sincerest admiration.

Dr. Livingstone is about sixty years old, though after he was restored to health he appeared more like a man who had not passed his fiftieth year.  His hair has a brownish colour yet, but is here and there streaked with grey lines over the temples; his whiskers and moustache are very grey.  He shaves his chin daily.  His eyes, which are hazel, are remarkably bright; he has a sight keen as a hawk’s.  His teeth alone indicate the weakness of age; the hard fare of Lunda has made havoc in their lines.  His form, which soon assumed a stoutish appearance, is a little over the ordinary height with the slightest possible bow in the shoulders.  When walking he has a firm but heavy tread, like that of an overworked or fatigued man.  He is accustomed to wear a naval cap with a semicircular peak, by which he has been identified throughout Africa.  His dress, when first I saw him, exhibited traces of patching and repairing, but was scrupulously clean.

I was led to believe that Livingstone possessed a splenetic, misanthropic temper; some have said that he is garrulous, that he is demented; that he has utterly changed from the David Livingstone whom people knew as the reverend missionary ; that he takes no notes or observations but such as those which no other person could read but himself; and it was reported, before I proceeded to Central Africa, that he was married to an African princess.

I respectfully beg to differ with all and each of the above statements.  I grant he is not an angel, but he approaches to that being as near as the nature of a living man will allow.  I never saw any spleen or misanthropy in him—­as for being garrulous, Dr. Livingstone is quite the reverse:  he is reserved, if anything; and to the man who says Dr. Livingstone is changed, all I can say is, that he never could have known him, for it is notorious that the Doctor has a fund of quiet humour, which he exhibits at all times whenever he is among friends.  I must also beg leave to correct the gentleman who informed me that Livingstone takes no notes or observations.  The huge Letts’s Diary which I carried home to his daughter is full of notes, and there are no less than a score of sheets within it filled with observations which he took during the last trip he made to Manyuema alone; and in the middle of the book there is sheet