From Pole to Pole: A Book for Young People

by Sven Anders Hedin

David Livingstone

In a poor but respectable workman's home in Blantyre, near Glasgow, was born a hundred years ago a little lad named David Livingstone, who was to make himself a great and famous name, not only as the discoverer of lakes and rivers, but also as one of the noblest men who ever offered their lives for the welfare of mankind.

LIVINGSTONE'S JOURNEYS IN AFRICA

In the national school of the town he quickly learned to read and write. His parents could not afford to let him continue his studies, but sent him at ten years of age to a cotton mill, where he had to work from six o'clock in the morning till eight in the evening. The hard work did not break his spirit, but while the machines hummed around him and the thread jumped on the bobbins, his thoughts and his desires flew far beyond the close walls of the factory to life and nature outside. He did his work so well that his wages were raised, and he spent his gains in buying books, which kept him awake far into the night. To add to his knowledge he attended a night-school, and on holidays he made long excursions with his brothers.

Years fled and the boy David grew up to manhood. One day he told his parents that he wished to be a medical missionary, and go to the people in the east and south, tend the sick, and preach to any who would listen. In order to procure means for his studies he had to save up his earnings at the factory, and when the time was come he went with his father to Glasgow, hired a room for half-a-crown a week, and read medicine. At the end of the session he went back to the factory to obtain money for the next winter course. Finally he passed his examination with distinction, and then came the last evening in the old home and the last morning dawned. His father went with him to Glasgow, took a long farewell of his son, and returned home sad and lonely.

Livingstone sailed from England to the Cape, and betook himself to the northernmost mission-station, Kuruman in Bechuanaland. Even at this time he heard of a fresh-water lake far to the north. It was called Ngami, and he hoped to see it one day.

From Kuruman he made several journeys in different directions to gain a knowledge of the tribes and their languages, to minister to their sick and win their confidence. Once when he was returning home from a journey and had still 150 miles to trek, a little black girl was found crouching under his waggon. She had run away from her owner because she knew that he intended to sell her as a slave as soon as she was full-grown, and as she did not wish to be sold she determined to follow the missionary's waggon on foot to Kuruman. The good doctor took up the frightened little creature and provided her with food and drink. Suddenly he heard her cry out. She had caught sight of a man with a gun who had been sent out to fetch her and who now came angrily to the waggon. It never occurred to Livingstone to leave the defenceless child in the hands of the wretch. He took the girl under his protection and told her that no danger would befall her henceforth. She was a symbol of Africa, the home of the slave-trade. And Africa's slaves needed the help of a great and strong man. Livingstone understood the call and worked to his last hour for the liberation of the slaves, as Gordon did many years later. He strove against the cruel and barbarous customs of the natives and their dark superstitions, and hoped in time to be able to train pupils who would be sent out to preach all over the country. In one tribe the medicine-men were also rainmakers. Livingstone pointed out to the people of the tribe that the rainmakers' jugglery was only a fraud and of no use, but offered, if they liked, himself to procure water for the irrigation of their fields, not by witchcraft but by conducting it along a canal from the neighbouring river. Some rough tools were first hewn out, and he had soon the whole tribe at work, and the canal and conduits were laid out among the crops. And there stood the witch-doctors put to shame, as they heard the water purling and filtering into the soil.

In 1843 Livingstone started off to found a new mission-station, named Mabotsa. The chief of the place was quite willing to sell land, and he received glass beads and other choice wares in payment. Mabotsa lay not far from the present Mafeking, but seventy years ago the whole region was a wild. On one occasion a lion broke into the village and worried the sheep. The natives turned out with their weapons, and Livingstone took the lead. The disturber of the peace was badly wounded and retired to the bush. But suddenly he rushed out again, threw himself on Livingstone, buried his teeth in his shoulder, and crushed his left arm. The lion had his paw already on the missionary's head, when a Christian native ran up and struck and slashed at the brute. The lion loosed his hold in order to fly at his new assailant, who was badly hurt. Fortunately the animal was so sorely wounded that its strength was now exhausted, and it fell dead on the ground. Livingstone felt the effects of the lion's bite for thirty years after, and could never lift his arm higher than the shoulder; and when his course was run his body was identified by the broken and reunited arm bone. He had to keep quiet for a long time until his wound was healed. Then he built the new station-house with his own hands, and when all was ready he brought to it his young bride, the daughter of a missionary at Kuruman.