out by the
London Daily Telegraph and the New York Herald, and penetrated into the
very heart of Africa.

He crossed the continent from shore to shore, overcoming on his march
dangers and difficulties compared with which those encountered on his
first journey sank into insignificance. He afterward gave an account of
this expedition in his book entitled, "Darkest Africa."

Stanley had successfully accomplished one of the great works of the
world. He had opened the way for commerce and Christianity into the
vast interior of Africa, which, prior to his discoveries, had been
marked on the map by a blank space, signifying that it was an
unexplored and unknown country.

On his return the successful explorer found himself famous. Princes and
scientific societies vied with one another in honoring him. King Edward
VII of England, who was then Prince of Wales, sent him his personal
congratulations; Humbert, the king of Italy, sent him his portrait; the
khedive of Egypt decorated him with the grand commandership of the
Order of the Medjidie; the Geographical Societies of London, Paris,
Italy, and Marseilles sent him their gold medals; while in Berlin,
Vienna, and many other large European cities, he was elected an
honorary member of their most learned and most distinguished
associations.

What pleased the explorer most of all, though, was the honor paid him
by America. "The government of the United States," he says, "has
crowned my success with its official approval, and the unanimous vote
of thanks passed in both houses of the legislature has made me proud
for life of the expedition and its achievements."

Honored to-day as the greatest explorer of his age, and esteemed alike
for his scholarship and the immense services he has rendered mankind,
Sir Henry Morton Stanley, the once friendless orphan lad whose only
home was a Welsh poorhouse, may well be proud of the career he has
carved out for himself.

THE NESTOR OF AMERICAN JOURNALISTS

"I heard that a neighbor three miles off, had borrowed from a still
more distant neighbor, a book of great interest. I started off,
barefoot, in the snow, to obtain the treasure. There were spots of bare
ground, upon which I would stop to warm my feet. And there were also,
along the road, occasional lengths of log fence from which the snow had
melted, and upon which it was a luxury to walk. The book was at home,
and the good people consented, upon my promise that it should be
nei