Livingstone’s problem had now definitely to be solved. Sekeletu was not a whit behind Sebituane in friendliness, and not much inferior in intelligence. He had no desire for the Bible, fearing that it might compel him to content himself with one wife. But he set an example to the tribe in reverent attention to Livingstone’s simple preaching, and he had absolute faith in the protection afforded to his people by Livingstone’s presence and skill. But exactly a week after the arrival at Linyanti, Livingstone had his first taste of malaria, nor did the well-meant efforts of the native doctors do much to cure him. He experienced its weakening effect. If he looked up suddenly he was affected with a strange giddiness. “Everything appeared to rush to the left, and if I did not catch hold of some support I fell heavily on the ground.” The same horrible sensations occurred at night, “whenever I turned suddenly round.” One thing was clear--Linyanti was no place for a healthy settlement. Some might add that with fever in the system it was idle to think of a journey of a thousand miles or more. But this was not Livingstone’s way of looking at things. “There is a good deal in not giving in to this disease,” he writes; “he who is low-spirited will die sooner than the man who is not of a melancholic nature.” Ill as he was, he was resolute to continue his explorations, and with Sekeletu and a large band of Makololo for companions, he travelled some hundreds of miles of waterway, ascending the great river to the north-west from Seshéke. Here the Zambesi is called the Leeambye, and Livingstone expresses his delight at skimming along in great canoes, gazing on a wonderful inland river which no white man had hitherto explored. He finds, as ever, in the wonders and beauties of nature, the splendour of the wild birds, and the curious fascination of the river-beasts some relief from the awful spectacle, constantly present, of human cruelty and degradation. “The sciences,” he writes, “exhibit such wonderful intelligence and design in all their various ramifications, some time ought to be devoted to them before engaging in missionary work.... We may feel that we are leaning on His bosom while living in a world clothed in beauty, and robed with the glorious perfection of its Maker and Preserver.... He who stays his mind on his ever-present, ever-energetic God, will not fret himself because of evil-doers. He that believeth shall not make haste.” It was indeed well for him that he had this power to absorb himself in “whatsoever things are lovely,” for the nightmare of heathenism was always with him. He has to witness Sekeletu’s revenge on those who had plotted against him. Some of the scenes are incredibly horrible; and his protests are unavailing. The miseries of slavery wrung his heart, and as he advances into the dark interior, the chorus of human agonies is ever in his ears. “I was in closer contact with heathens than I had ever been before, and though all