l
wound. A messenger was despatched in the greatest haste for Dr.
Livingstone, whose house was eight or ten miles distant. The messenger
in his eagerness ran the whole way. Livingstone's friends were
horror-struck at the idea of his riding through the wood at night,
exposed to the rhinoceros and other deadly beasts. "No, no; you must not
think of it, Livingstone; it is certain death." Livingstone believed it
was a Christian duty to try to save the poor fellow's life, and he
resolved to go, happen what might. Mounting his horse, he rode to the
scene of the accident. The man had died, and the wagon had left, so that
there was nothing for Livingstone but to return and run the risk of the
forest anew, without even the hope that he might be useful in
saving life.

Another time, when he and a brother missionary were on a tour a long way
from home, a messenger came to tell his companion that one of his
children was alarmingly ill. It was but natural for him to desire
Livingstone to go back with him. The way lay over a road infested by
lions. Livingstone's life would be in danger; moreover, as we have seen,
he was intensely desirous to examine the fossil bones at the place. But
when his friend expressed the desire for him to go, he went without
hesitation. His firm belief in Providence sustained him in these as in
so many other dangers.

Medical practice was certainly not made easier by what happened to some
of his packages from England. Writing to his father-in-law, Mr. Moffat
(18th January, 1849), he says:

"Most of our boxes which come to us from England are opened,
and usually lightened of their contents. You will perhaps
remember one in which Sechele's cloak was. It contained, on
leaving Glasgow, besides the articles which came here, a
parcel of surgical instruments which I ordered, and of course
paid for. One of these was a valuable cupping apparatus. The
value at which the instruments were purchased for me was L4,
12s., their real value much more.

"The box which you kindly packed for us and despatched to
Glasgow has, we hear, been gutted by the Custom-House
thieves, and only a very few plain karosses left in it. When
we see a box which has been opened we have not half the
pleasure which we otherwise should in unpacking it.... Can
you give me any information how these annoyances may be
prevented? Or must we submit to it as one of the crooked