he compares not unfavorably, both in character and manners, with some of the men we make acquaintance with in our wanderings through Africa. It was in April 1867, one year after his start from Zanzibar, that Livingstone crossed the Chambesi, and soon afterwards found himself on the mountains overlooking Lake Liemba, which proved to be none other than the southern point of our old friend Lake Tanganyika. Thence he zigzagged westward over sponge covered earth till he struck Lake Moero, with a stream flowing into its southern end——really the Lualaba, on its way from Lake Bangweola——and out at its northern——again the Lualaba——into other lakes which the natives spoke of. Now, more than ever before, he was persuaded that he was on the headwaters of the Nile, and he would have followed his river up only to surprise himself by coming out into the Atlantic through the mouth of the great Congo, if it had not been for native wars ahead. Then he put back to examine a great lake of this river system, which the natives said existed south of Lake Moero. After a tramp of weeks through wet and dry, he found himself on the marshy banks of Lake Bangweola. Close by where he struck it, was its outlet, the Lualaba, here known as Luapula. It is a vast reservoir, 200 miles long by 130 broad, and has no picturesque surroundings, but is interspersed with many beautiful islands. [Illustration: A SOKO HUNT.] Confident now that he had the true source of the Nile——for the water-shed to the south told him that every thing below it ran into the Zambesi——nothing remained but for him to return to where he had left off his survey of the Lualaba, far to the north, and to follow that stream till he proved the truth of his theory. In going thither he would take in Lake Tanganyika. It was a terrible journey. For sixteen days he was carried in a litter under a burning sun, through marshy hollows and over rough hills. Sight of Tanganyika revived his drooping spirits, but he feared he must die before reaching Ujiji. It was March 1869, before he reached the coveted resting place, but he found awaiting him no aid, no medicines, no letters. He had been dead to the world for three long years. King Mirambo was off on the war-path against the Arabs, and Livingstone had to wait, undergoing slow recovery for many months.