While Dr. Livingstone was in England he was welcomed with highest honors. He was invited to visit Queen Victoria and her husband, the Prince Consort. But so strong was the missionary spirit in him that he preferred talking to cotton spinners and the people in the slums of the East End of London. He was quite glad to go back to Africa and escape from the medals, degrees, and other great honors showered upon him. After his return to the Dark Continent for the last time, he went farther than ever into the interior in an attempt to discover, or at least to prove, where the great river Nile begins. When he had nearly reached the goal, he was driven back by hostile tribes which had recently suffered from attacks of slave traders. At this time the Arabs who carried Livingstone’s letters down to the coast to be sent to England destroyed them all, for fear he had written to England about the slave outrages they had committed. For this reason nothing was heard of him for years. It was thought that he had been murdered by savages or had died of African fever. At last the publisher of _The New York Herald_ sent Henry M. Stanley, the newspaper’s foreign correspondent, with all the money he needed, to find Dr. Livingstone; or, if he were no longer living, to get any records that could be found. After a long search the American newspaper man heard of a white man hundreds of miles farther in the interior. Trace and trail grew more and more distinct and at last the American company, with the American flag flying, marched up to Livingstone’s camp on the shore of one of the great lakes he had discovered. Of this meeting Stanley wrote: “As I advanced slowly toward him I noticed he looked pale and weary. He had a gray beard, and wore a cap with a faded gold band on it. I could have run to him and embraced him, only I did not know how he would receive me; so instead I walked up to him and said, ‘Dr. Livingstone, I presume?’ “‘Yes,’ said he with a kind smile. We both grasped hands. “‘I thank God, Doctor, that I have been permitted to see you!’ said I, and he answered, ‘I feel thankful that I am here to welcome you.’ “I found myself gazing at the wonderful man at whose side I now sat in the heart of Africa. Every hair of his head, every line of his face, his pallor and the wearied look he wore, all told me what I had longed so much to know.” The two explorers spent months together talking over their discoveries and experiences. Stanley had much to tell of what was going on in the world outside. Nearly all Livingstone’s store of supplies had been stolen, but Stanley had prepared for that. He insisted on providing the old missionary with everything he might need. Of Stanley’s tenderness Livingstone wrote to his daughter: