Livingstone and I lodged together. We read Latin
and Greek, and began Hebrew together. Every day we took walks, and
visited all the spots of interest in the neighborhood, among them the
country churchyard which was the burial-place of John Locke. In a place
so quiet, and a life so ordinary as that of a student, there did not
occur many events worthy of recital. I will, however, mention one or
two things, because they give an insight--a kind of prophetic
glance--into Livingstone's after-career.
"One foggy November morning, at three o'clock, he set out from Ongar to
walk to London to see a relative of his father's[11]. It was about
twenty-seven miles to the house he sought. After spending a few hours
with his relation, he set out to return on foot to Ongar. Just out of
London, near Edmonton, a lady had been thrown out of a gig. She lay
stunned on the road. Livingston immediately went to her, helped to carry
her into a house close by, and having examined her and found no bones
broken, and recommending a doctor to be called, he resumed his weary
tramp.
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