Eleven days after his entrance into Oujiji shots were heard a quarter of a mile from the lake. The doctor arrives. A man, a white man, is before him. "Doctor Livingstone, I presume?"
"Yes," replied the latter, raising his cap, with a friendly smile.
Their hands were warmly clasped.
"I thank God," continued the white man, "that He has permitted me to meet you."
"I am happy," said Livingstone, "to be here to receive you."
The white man was the American Stanley, a reporter of the New York _Herald_, whom Mr. Bennett, the proprietor of that journal, had just sent to find David Livingstone.
In the month of October, 1870, this American, without hesitation, without a word, simply as a hero, had embarked at Bombay for Zanzibar, and almost following Speke and Burton's route, after untold suffe
