the new enterprise, would have caused any other than Ledyard, to hesitate at least, if not to shrink from it in utter satiety, lassitude, despair, or horror.

The route traced for him by the Association, was from London to Paris, thence to Marseilles, across the Mediterranean to Egypt, from Alexandria to Grand Cairo, from Cairo to Sennaar, and thence westward, in the latitude and supposed direction of the Niger. He stopped in Paris seven or eight days, performing homage of gratitude to his inestimable friends, Jefferson and Lafayette. In a little more than a month, he was in Alexandria; and, in less than a week more, at Grand Cairo, only the starting post of his arduous expedition. His strictures on the state of things in Egypt, as they fell under his notice, are recommended by the sagacity, raciness, and candour, which distinguish all his effusions. The information which they afford, is of course but scanty. To know Egypt thoroughly, all its antiquities, and its modern history and condition, recourse must be had to the vast and incomparably splendid work on that country, prepared by the adepts in the sciences and fine arts, who accompanied Napoleon thither. The chief scene of Ledyard's inquiries, at Cairo, was the slavemarket; as he hoped to extract from the negroes brought to it from the interior of Africa, some geographical data, or other intelligence useful for his main enterprise. The poor wretches, mostly young women, and the greater part of them from remote countries, assured him that he would be well treated by their countrymen. He was told, that the importation of negro slaves into Egypt, the year of his arrival, would amount to twenty thousand. Three months were consumed at Grand Cairo, before he had any certainty of being able to proceed in his design. He awaited the departure of the caravan, which he wished to accompany to Sennaar. We have now drawn to the conclusion of all his visions, and must relate the deplorable catastrophe, in the language of his biographer :

"After much vexatious delay, all things were at last ready for his departure, and his next communication might be expected from Sennaar. The Aga had given him letters of recommendation, his passage was engaged, the terms settled, and the day fixed, on which the caravan was to leave Cairo. He wrote in good spirits and apparent health, and the confidence of the Association had never been more firm, nor their hopes more sanguine, than at this juncture. Their extreme disappointment may well be imagined, therefore, when the next letters from Egypt brought the melancholy intelligence of his death.

"During his residence at Cairo, his pursuits had made it necessary for him to be much exposed to the heat of the sun, and to other deleterious influences of the climate, at the most unfavourable season of the year. The consequence was an attack of a bilious complaint, which he thought to remove by the common remedy of vitriolic acid. Whether this was administered by himself, or by some other person, is not related, but the quantity taken was so great, as to produce violent and burning pains, that threatened to be fatal, unless immediate relief could be procured. This was attempted by a powerful dose of tartar emetic. But all was in vain. The best medical skill in Cairo was called to his aid without effect, and he closed his life of vicissitude and toil, at the moment when he ima

gined his severest cares were over, and the prospects before him were more flattering, than they had been at any former period." He was decently interred, and all suitable respect was paid to his obsequies, by such friends as he had found among the European residents in the capital of Egypt.

"The precise day of his death is not known, but the event is supposed to have happened towards the end of November, 1788. He was then in the thirtyeighth year of his age."

Regret is deep, not only for the extinction of such a spirit, but for the loss of that chance of discovery, which attended his undertaking. He had seen more of Asia and Africa; he could endure more; persevere further; than any other man. His intense zeal, incredible activity, dauntless courage, resolute honour, comprehensive intelligence, promised all that could be achieved by an individual. Beyond three hundred leagues, however, he was to go alone, in the attempt to cut the continent across, between the parallels of twelve and twenty degrees of north latitude; and it may be doubted, whether failure was not inevitable. The biographer of Mungo Park observes, that the sufferings of that traveller during his first journey, and the melancholy fate of Major Houghton, Mr. Horneman, and other explorers distinguished by their enterprise and ability, demonstrate the utter hopelessness of such undertakings, when attempted by solitary and unprotected individuals. Without any contest with the natives, or death by wild animals, or any other accident, out of forty-three Europeans who left the Gambia in perfect health, with Park, only four survived, (one being deranged,) when he wrote from Sansanding. In capacity of endurance, Ledyard might be regarded as equal to any of his race; probably no man ever underwent severer trials. "I have known," said he in one of his conversations with Mr. Beaufoy, "I have known both hunger and nakedness to the utmost extremity of human suffering; I have known what it is to have food given me as charity to a madman; and I have at times been obliged to shelter myself under the miseries of that character, to avoid a heavier calamity. My distresses have been greater than I have ever owned, or ever will own to any man.

Notwithstanding the unequalled hardships of his life, and the invariable frustration of his plans, Ledyard never lost confidence in himself, or in the goodness of the Deity; nor betrayed the least misanthropic spleen. The smallest ray of hope excited him to the utmost effort; whatever seemed possible, he would essay with alacrity, "contemplatively, cheerily, and industriously;"he overflowed with gratitude for any obligation; the benevolence of his disposition is abundantly exemplified by his ruinous excursion to Copenhagen, for the relief of Major Langhorn. In the midst of his disasters, and in the severest straits, he repeats, fondly as it were-"Upon the whole, mankind have used me well." "I have always thought urbanity more general, than

many think it to be." "Hospitality, I have found as universal as the face of man." We have already cited his tender tribute to woman. Such testimony is doubly creditable to our nature. Indeed, who that has mingled long with society, or travelled much, being himself possessed of good qualities, but has experienced more kindness than malevolence; more than he has ever bestowed, or could bestow,-enough to enable him, also, to exclaim-" upon the whole, mankind have used me well!" As an example of Ledyard's religious confidence and strain, we may quote this paragraph of a letter to his mother, sent when he was about to depart from London for Egypt :

“Truly is it written, that the ways of God are past finding out, and his decrees unsearchable. Is the Lord thus great? So also is he good. I am an instance of it. I have trampled the world under my feet, laughed at fear, and derided danger. Through millions of fierce savages, over parching deserts, the freezing north, the everlasting ice, and stormy seas, have I passed without harm. How good is my God! What rich subjects have I for praise, love, and adoration!"

His affections centered in his mother and sisters at home, and his country was exceedingly dear to him. His journals and letters yield the finest ejaculations of unfeigned domestic love, expansive patriotism, and tender sensibility. We offer the subjoined extracts, as examples taken at random :

"My prospects at present, are a voyage to the East Indies, and eventually round the world. It will be of two or three years duration. If I am successful, I shall not have occasion to absent myself any more from my friends; but, above all, I hope to have it in my power to minister to the wants of a beloved parent, and others who languish and fade in obscurity. My dear sisters engage my tenderest love, and solicitude for their future welfare. My best wish is, that they may be educated and disposed of, suitably to the beauty of their persons, and their excellent hearts; and that I could be instrumental in conferring such a kind. ness. I beg my brotherly salutations to them. Tell them, I long to strew roses in their laps, and branches of palm beneath their feet."

*

"I die with anxiety to be on the back of the American States, after having either come from, or penetrated to the Pacific ocean. There is an extensive field for the acquirement of honest fame. A blush of generous regret sits on my cheek, when I hear of any discovery there, which I have had no part in; and particularly at this auspicious period. The American Revolution invites to a thorough discovery of the continent, and the honour of doing it, would become a foreigner; but a native only can feel the genuine pleasure of the achievement. It was necessary, that a European should discover the existence of that continent, but, in the name of Amor Patriæ, let a native explore its resources and boundaries. It is my wish to be the man. I will not yet resign that wish, nor my pretensions to that distinction."

"I have once visited the Foundling Hospital, and the Hospital de Dieu, in Paris; twice I never shall. Not all the morality from Confucius to Addison, could give me such feelings. Eighteen foundlings were brought the day of my visit. One was brought in while I was there. Dear little innocents! But you are, happily, insensible of your situations. Where are your unfortunate mothers? Perhaps in the adjoining hospital, they have to feel for you, and themselves too. But where is the wretch, the villain, the monster?—I was not six minutes in the house. It is customary to leave a few pence; I flung down six livres, and retired."

Ledyard spoke, and no doubt honestly, of his preference for

the scenes and persons of home, when he was hieing to Kamtschatka, or eagerly preparing to plunge into the interior of Africa. So, Mungo Park, as he entered that continent the second time, wrote to his wife-"I need not tell you how often I think about you. The hopes of spending the remainder of my life with my wife and children will make every thing seem easy; and you may be sure I will not rashly risk my life, when I know that your happiness and the welfare of my young ones depend so much upon it." Those hopes and resolves, and that knowledge, might almost be questioned, when it is recollected, that, after Park's first expedition, he was well situated in every respect with his family; that he had acquired renown sufficient to content any ordinary ambition; in short, that no necessity drove him from the domestic circle, and involved him in the risks to which he fell a victim. But we do not doubt he was sincere. The passion of enterprise, and a thirst for glory, only increased by the share which he had gathered, explain the apparent inconsistency of his professed sentiments with his conduct. Ledyard never had the same motives for remaining at home; but we cannot suppose that one of his excellent faculties and virtues would have been unable to succeed there, if any local influence could have subdued his natural propensity to range the earth, and brave all imaginable ills and dangers, in quest of knowledge and "a small degree of honest fame." "The peculiar frame of his mind and temper," says his biographer, "was such, that nothing would have been more idle, either in himself or any other person, than to think of chaining him down to any of the dull courses of life, to which the great mass of mankind are contented to resort, as the means of acquiring a fortune, gaining a competence, or driving want from the door. Poverty and privation were trifles of no weight with him, compared with the irksome necessity of walking in the same path that all the world walked in, and doing things as all the world had done them before. He thought this a very tame pursuit, unworthy of a rational man, whose soul should be fired with a nobler ambition.” This kind of enthusiasm smacks of insanity, in the estimation of the very sober-minded of our generation;-the theory is not rare, that a certain number of crazy folk, acting at large in the various pursuits of society, are indispensable in the economy of human existence and improvement. Whoever attends to the situation of a prime minister in England or France, or of an American President, will be apt to conclude, that the avidity for political eminence and power, indicates as much wildness of fancy, or distemperature of judgment, as the errantry in question. A Londonderry and a Canning perish from immense and inevitable official fatigue and anxiety; hundreds of those near them are ready to spring into the same place. The fatal breach is filled without the least difficulty. The lives

of conquerors, usurpers, viziers, sultanas, queens, courtiers, afford innumerable instances of like infatuation.

Captain Carver yielded to the same constitutional bias as Ledyard and Park; and he who had penetrated into "antres vast and deserts wild," and survived in full vigour a two or three years' intercourse with savage life, and seven thousand miles of desperate roam, died in London, through want, with three commissions in his pocket; having experienced there worse treatment from the Lords Commissioners of Trade and Plantations, than he ever suffered by any individual Indian or barbarous tribe.* Zebulon Pike and Meriwether Lewis, explorers, whose achievements shed lustre on the American name, were cast in a similar mould, and tempered or leavened with the same mercurial and irresistible spirit. Lewis, "when only eight years of age, habitually went out in the dead of night, alone with his dogs, into the forest, to hunt the racoon and opossum. In this exercise, no season nor circumstance could obstruct his purposehe plunged through the winter snows and frozen streams." The history of his expedition with General Clark, shows how admirably his manhood corresponded to the habits and energies of his youth. We may give a passing sigh to the manner of his death, remembering vividly the graphic and pathetic picture of it which Wilson, the Ornithologist,-a congenial spirit, worthy of being commemorated in the same page,-has left for posterity. The exit of Pike was more happy and glorious-almost as signal and inspiring as any recorded in military annals. He enjoyed the dulce et decorum in his end, as he had lived for his country.

* "On my arrival in England, I presented a petition to his Majesty in council, praying for a reimbursement of those sums I had expended in the service of the government. This was referred to the Lords Commissioners of Trade and Plantations. Their Lordships, from the tenor of it, thought the intelligence I could give, of so much importance to the nation, that they ordered me to appear before the Board. This message I obeyed, and underwent a long examination; much I believe to the satisfaction of every Lord present. When it was finished, I requested to know what I should do with my papers; without hesitation, the first Lord replied, that I might publish them whenever I pleased. In consequence of this permission, I disposed of them to a bookseller; but when they were nearly ready for the press, an order was issued from the council board, requiring me to deliver, without delay, into the Plantation Office, all my Charts and Journals, with every paper relative to the discoveries I had made. In order to obey this command, I was obliged to re-purchase them from the bookseller, at a very great expense, and deliver them up. This fresh disbursement, I endeavoured to get annexed to the account I had already delivered in; but the request was denied me, notwithstanding I had only acted, in the disposal of my papers, conformably to the permission I had received from the Board of Trade. This loss, which amounted to a very considerable sum, I was obliged to bear; and to rest satisfied with an indemnification for my other expenses. Thus situated, my only expectations are from the favour of a generous public; to whom I shall now communicate my Plans, Journals, and Observations, of which I luckily kept copies, when I delivered the originals in the Plantation Office. And this I do the more readily, as I hear they are mislaid; and there is no probability of their ever being published."-Carver's Travels, London, 1781.