torturing death, or have lived through it and wrought out great issues, but have left scarcely any memorial behind except this-that countries once in darkness and the shadow of death are now open to the refining influences of civilisation, the highways are busy with new commerce, and the light of Christianity is penetrating through the mists of superstition.

Notwithstanding the perils he so graphically described, Mr. Alcock never hesitated

to go about freely among the people; and in order to make himself fully acquainted with the relations existing between the ruling classes and the masses, he undertook a journey from Nagasaki to Yeddo, which no foreigners, save some Dutchmen from a factory at De-sinia, had hitherto accomplished. It was a perilous but a splendid journey, lasting for thirty-two days, and unattended with any catastrophe.

But on the very night he first slept at Yeddo after his long and fatiguing journey, an attempt was made to massacre the whole of the British Legation. The Legation was located in a temple insecure at all times, and more particularly so in the summer, when

the sliding panels and screens were left open for the sake of coolness. There were, however, stockades and fences outside, and the gates, which were closed at night, were guarded by 150 soldiers. In the dead of night there were heard the simultaneous yell of a band of assassins and the clash and clangour of arms. The first to start up and to feel the shock of the attack was Mr. Oliphant, the newly-appointed Secretary of the Legation, who received two fearful wounds, and but for the fact of a beam standing between himself and the murderers, would have been killed. The next to suffer was Mr. Morrison, Consul at Nagasaki, who fired two or three shots with his revolver, but received a serious wound across the forehead. Together these men fled to Mr. Alcock's room, where they found him and two others, revolver in hand, waiting the approach of the enemy. But strange to say, although they could hear the smashing of doors and windows and the yelling of infuriated men, they stood there for ten minutes and no one came. So Mr. Alcock, who had been educated as a medical man, seeing his companions were getting faint from loss of blood, set to work to bind up their wounds, and then with the two unwounded men went out to seek for Mr. MacDonald, a member of the Legation, who was missing. They found him, and heard how he had rushed out into the courtyard in his night-shirt and seen the fighting of men wild with excitement, and how one of the civil service officers had thrown a native dress around him, which served as a disguise, and assisted him to escape.

When the attack was over the guard of 150 men began to exert themselves, and when the morning dawned the mystery of how any one had escaped was explained by the fact that the assailants had attacked the wrong side of the house. Where the onset had been made was easily ascertained, for the temple residence and grounds presented all the appearance of a place carried by assault and sacked. Floors and passages were bespattered with blood, and everywhere there were traces of most sanguinary violence. Mr. Alcock has given a narrative of the whole circumstances, and he says:-"At intervals along the avenue I found three corpses stretched on the ground, two of them bodies of the assailants, who, as I have said, had been frightfully hewn about. I have seen many a battle-field, but of sabre wounds I never saw any so horrible. One man had his skull shorn clean through from the back, and half the head sliced off to the spine, while his limbs only hung together by shreds. As I looked on these mangled and hideous remains and thought such as they were there it had been intended we should be, and such might still be the fate reserved for me from this confraternity, I confess to a shudder of mingled horror and disgust. Certainly a more providential escape from what, humanly speaking, seemed inevitable destruction, it is difficult to conceive. The fact of their having chosen the front avenue and entrance for their line of attack instead of the unguarded back is difficult to explain. Had they come in that direction my death must have been inevitable; mine the first, if not all in succession, for the winding path down the hill led directly to my bedroom."

It is said that in the annals of British diplomacy there is probably not another example of such a bloodthirsty and deliberate plot to massacre the officers of an embassy, or civilians who behaved so bravely, and continued afterwards to perform their duties under such perilous circumstances.*

* "New Japan." By Samuel Mossman.

It is just possible some one may say, "Are incidents such as have been recorded in this chapter within the legitimate definition of heroism?" We think so emphatically. Of heroes such as these we, as a nation, have most reason to be proud. "As the years roll on, England's special work in the world comes out more and more clearly. In spite of herself-often against her will-she has task after task set her in the wild neglected places of the earth, amongst savage or half-civilised races. Scarce a year passes that the work does not become more pressing and widen out in all directions. The call comes, now from the oldest haunts and homes of men-from India, from China, from Arabia, from the Malay Peninsula-now from the wondrous isles of the Pacific-now from the vast unexplored regions of Central or Southern Africa. Sometimes it is the conscious cry of the oppressed, 'Come over and help us ;' sometimes the unconscious appeal of anarchy and evil-doing in regions where we have planted our foot, and from which we cannot draw it back; for whatever the cause or form of the summons, it is sure to have restigia nulla retrorsum' written over it. And the call, however urgent, however exacting, has rarely failed to bring out the right man, whether it were for missionary, or soldier, or merchant, or traveller, ready to spend himself for his country and his country's work; simply, cheerily, unreservedly doing deeds, the reading and hearing of which here in England make our pulses bound and our eyes moisten, without a thought that they were anything more than what every Englishman is called on to do in some form or other for the dear old home. How many such have slipped quietly out of the ranks in the last few years, and what a noble swarth they have cut in the world's tangled harvest-work! Unlike in their characters, their powers, the tasks that they were set to do, but alike in this, that they did it, one and all, with their might, and paid for it with their lives; a bright beadroll of heroes of whom their land may well be proud, the Pattesons, Mackenzies, Goodenoughs, Margarys, whose record goes far to redeem the sloth and selfishness of a generation weighted heavily with wealth and luxury, and is sounding again and again in the ears of our youth the grand old lesson, 'A long life hath but few years, but a good name endureth for ever.'"*

66

His Early Career-Linyanti, the Capital of the Makololo Country-Sekeletu, the Chief-Up the Zambesi-To LoandaChristian Influences-Attacks of Fever-A Pleasant Picture-The "Smoke-resounding" Falls Returns to England - His Reception-Again Visits Africa-The 'Ma-Robert"-Poisoned Arrows-The River Shire-Arrival of Livingstone's Wife-Her Death-In Memoriam-The Lady Nyassa-Returns to England-The Third and Last Great Journey--The Nile Sources-Reported Death of the Great Traveller-A Search Expedition-Lost and Found-Mutiny and Desertion-Disappointed Hopes-At Ujiji-" Dr. Livingstone, I presume?"-Stanley's Timely Help-The Last Attempt-Approach of Death-The Faithful Nassick Boys-The Hut in Chilambo's Village-The Funeral Journey to the Coast-In Westminster Abbey-The Heroism of Suffering.

'N a former chapter we gave some account of the earlier years of the life of David Livingstone, tracing his career among the Bechuanas in South Africa from the time when he married Mary Moffat, the daughter of the great missionary, to the time when, having discovered Lake N'gami and the Zambesi river, and made the acquaintance of Sebituane, chief of the Makololo tribe, and laboured for eleven years in missionary work, he embarked his wife and children in a homeward-bound ship at Cape Town, and then, in June, 1852, plunged into the wilderness to open up a country shrouded in mystery, and to find a new centre from which to spread the knowledge of the Gospel.

Livingstone proceeded across the desert to Linyanti, the capital of the Makololo country, where formerly dwelt the mighty chief Sebituane. It has some 7,000 inhabitants, Vol. I., chap. v., pp. 66-69.