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“‘Come in,’ I heard a voice say. Entering I found Mr. Bennett in bed.

“‘Who are you?’ he asked.

“‘My name is Stanley,’ I answered.

“‘Ah, yes! sit down; I have important business on hand for you.

“‘Where do you think Livingstone is?’

“‘I really do not know, sir.’

“‘Do you think he is alive?’

“‘He may be, and he may not be,’ I answered.

“‘Well, I think he is alive, and that he can be found, and I am going to send you to find him.’

“‘What!’ said I, ‘do you really think I can find Dr. Livingstone? Do you mean me to go to Central Africa?’

“‘Yes, I mean that you shall go and find him wherever you may hear that he is…. Of course you will act according to your own plans and do what you think best–BUT FIND LIVINGSTONE.'”

The question of expense coming up, Mr. Bennett said: “Draw a thousand pounds now; and when you have gone through that, draw another thousand; and when that is spent, draw another thousand; and when you have finished that, draw another thousand, and so on; but, FIND LIVINGSTONE.”

Stanley asked no questions, awaited no further instructions. The two men parted with a hearty hand clasp. “Good night, and God be with you,” said Bennett.

“Good night, sir,” returned Stanley. “What it is in the power of human nature to do I will do; and on such an errand as I go upon, God will be with me.”

The young man immediately began the work of preparation for his great undertaking. This in itself was a task requiring more than ordinary judgment and foresight, but Stanley was equal to the occasion.

On January 6, 1871, he reached Zanzibar, an important native seaport on the east coast of Africa. Here the preparations for the journey were completed. Soon, with a train composed of one hundred and ninety men, twenty donkeys, and baggage amounting to about six tons, he started from this point for the interior of the continent.

Then began a journey the dangers and tediousness of which can hardly be described. Stanley and his men were often obliged to wade through swamps filled with alligators. Crawling on hands and knees, they forced their way through miles of tangled jungle, breathing in as they went the sickening odor of decaying vegetables. They were obliged to be continually on their guard against elephants, lions, hyenas, and other wild inhabitants of the jungle. Fierce as these were, however, they were no more to be dreaded than the savage tribes whom they sometimes encountered. Whenever they stopped to rest, they were tormented by flies, white ants, and reptiles, which crawled all over them.

For months they journeyed on under these conditions. The donkeys had died from drinking impure water, and some of the men had fallen victims to disease.

It was no wonder that the survivors of the expedition–all but Stanley–had grown disheartened. Half starved, wasted by sickness and hardships of all kinds, with bleeding feet and torn clothes, some of them became mutinous. Stanley’s skill as a leader was taxed to the utmost. Alternately coaxing the faint-hearted and punishing the insubordinate, he continued to lead them on almost in spite of themselves.

So far they had heard nothing of Livingstone, nor had they any clew as to the direction in which they should go. There was no ray of light or hope to cheer them on their way, yet Stanley never for a moment thought of giving up the search.

Once, amid the terrors of the jungle, surrounded by savages and wild animals, with supplies almost exhausted, and the remnant of his followers in a despairing condition, the young explorer came near being discouraged.

But he would not give way to any feeling that might lessen his chances of success, and it was at this crisis he wrote in his journal:–

“No living man shall stop me–only death can prevent me. But death–not even this; I shall not die–I will not die–I cannot die! Something tells me I shall find him and–write it larger–FIND HIM, FIND HIM! Even the words are inspiring.”