Stanley saw him and hastened to where he was.
“Dr. Livingstone, I presume.”
“Yes,” said he with a cordial smile, lifting his hat.
They grasped each other’s hands. “Thank God!” said Stanley, “I have been permitted to see you!”
“Thankful I am that I am here to welcome you,” was the doctor’s reply.
They turned toward the house, and remained long together, telling each other of their adventures; hearing and receiving news. At length Stanley delivered his batch of letters from home to the doctor, and he retired to read them.
Then came a long and happy rest for both the explorers. Livingstone improved in health and spirits daily. His old enthusiasm was restored and he would be on his travels again. But he was entirely out of cloth and trinkets, was reduced to a retinue of five men, and had no money to hire more.
One day Stanley said, “have you seen the north of Tanganyika yet?”
“No; I tried to get there, but could not. I have no doubt that Tanganyika as we see it here is really the Upper Tanganyika, that the Albert Nyanza of Baker is the Lower Tanganyika, and that they are connected by a river.”
Poor fellow! Did ever mortal man cling so to a delusion, put such faith in native stories and old traditions.