crossed the hallan he perceived the sick man's brother the next to him in age sitting at the window with his elbow leaning on the table, and his head on his closed fist, while the tints of sorrow and anger seemed mingled on his blunt countenance. Farther on stood his mother and elder sister leaning on each other, and their eyes shaded with their hands, and close by the sick youth's bed-side; beyond these kneeled old Gawin the shepherd, his fond and too indulgent father. He held the shrivelled hand of his son in his, and with the other he held that of a damsel who stood by his side: And Isaac heard him conjuring his son in the name of the God of heaven. Here old Isaac's voice interrupted the affecting scene.

"Peace be to this house,-may the peace of the Almighty be within its walls," said he with an audible voice. The two women uttered a stifled shriek, and the dying man a "poh! poh!" of abhorrence.-Old Gawin the shep herd, though he did not rise from his knees, gazed round with amazement in his face; and looking first at his dy ing son, and then at old Isaac, he drew a full breath, and said with a quiver ing voice, "Surely the hand of the Almighty is in this!"

There was still another object in the apartment well worthy of the at tention of him who entered-it was the damsel who stood at the bed-side; -but then she stood with her back to Isaac, so that he could not see her face, and at the sound of his voice, she drew her cloak over her head and retired behind the bed, sobbing, so that her bosom was like to rend. The cloak was similar to the one worn that day by old Isaac, for, be it remembered, he had not the gaudy tartan one about him, but the russet grey plaid made to him by his beloved daughter. Isaac saw the young woman resting behind the bed, and heard her weeping, but a stroke of electricity seemed to have affected the nerves of all the rest of the family on the entrance of the good old man, so that his attention was attracted by those immediately under his eye. The mo ther and daughter whispered to each other in great perplexity. Old Gawin rose from his knees; and not knowing well what to say or do, he wiped the dust with great punctuality from

the knee-caps of his corduroy breeches, even descending to the minutia of scraping away some specks more adhesive than the rest, with the nail of his mid finger. No one welcomed the old man, and the dying youth in the bed grumbled these bitter words, "I see now on what errand Ellen was sent! confound your officious ness!"

"No, on my word, Graham, you are wrong; therefore hush. The child was at Tr to meet the carrier for your drogs," said old Gawin.

"Poh! poh! all of a piece with the rest of the stuff you have told me. Come hither Ellen, and let me see what the doctor has sent." The girl came near, and gave some vials with a sealed direction.

"So you got these at T-r, did you?"

"Yes, I got them from Jessy Clapperton; the carrier was away."

Lying impertinent imp! who told you to say that? Was it your mamma there or your worthy dad? Answer me !" The child was muté and looked frightened. "Oh! I see how it is! You have done very well my dear, very cleverly, you give very fair promise. Get me some clothes, pray-I will try if I can leave this house."

"Alas, my good friends, what is this?" said Isaac," the young man's reason, I fear, is wavering. Good Gawin, why do you not give me your hand? I am extremely sorry for your son's great bodily sufferings, and for what you and your family must suffer mentally on his account. Pray how do you do?”

菌

"Right weel, Sir. As weel as may be expected," said Gawin, taking old Isaac's hand, but not once lifting his eyes from the ground to look the good father in the face.

"And how are you, good dame?" continued Isaac, taking the old wo man's hand and shaking it.

"Right weel, thanks t'ye, Sir. It is a cauld day this. Ye'll be cauld?" "Oh no, I rather feel warm."

beloved daughter Euphy. But enough of this-I see you have some mantles in the house, of the very same kind." "No: not the same. We have none of the same here."

"Well, the same or nearly so, it is all one. My sight often deceives me now." The family all looked at one another. "But enough of this," continued old Isaac, "I came not thus far to discuss such matters. The sick young man, from what I heard, I fear, is incapable of spiritual conver sation ?"

"Yes I am," said he, from the bed, with a squeaking hectic voice, "and I would this moment that I were dead. Why don't you give me my clothes? Sure never was a poor unfortunate being tormented as I am! Won't you have pity on me, and let me have a little peace for a short time? It is not long I will trouble you. Is it not mean and dastardly in you all to combine against an object that cannot defend himself?".

Alack, alack!" said old Isaac, "the calmness of reason is departed for the present. I came to converse a little with him on that which concerns his peace here, and his happiness hereafter: to hold the mirror up to his conscience, and point out an ob ject to him, of which, if he take not hold, all his hope is a wreck." "I knew it! I knew it!" vociferated the sick man. "A strong and great combination: but I'll defeat it, ha, ha, ha! I tell you, Mr Confessor, I have no right or part in that object you talk of. I will have no farther concern with her. She shall have no more of me than you shall have. If the devil should have all, that is absolute-Will that suffice?" Alas! he is not him self," said old Isaac," and has nearly been guilty of blasphemy. We must not irritate him farther. All that we can do, is to join in prayer that the Lord will lay no more upon him than he is able to bear, that he will heal his wounded spirit, and restore him to the use of reason; and that, in the midst of his wanderings, should he blaspheme, the sin may not be laid to his charge. Gawin the shepherd was about to speak and explain something that apparently affected him; the dy ing youth had likewise raised himself up on his elbow, and with an angry countenance was going to reply; but when the old man took off his

broad brimmed hat, and discovered the wrinkled forehead and the thin snowy hair waving around it, the sight was so impressive that silence was imposed on every tongue. He sung two stanzas of a psalm, read a chapter of the New Testament, and then kneeling by the bedside, he prayed for about half an hour with such fervency of devotion, that all the family were deeply affected. It was no com mon-place prayer, nor one so general that it suited any case of distress; every sentence of it spoke home to the heart, and alluded particularly to the very state of him for whom the petitions were addressed to heaven. Old Gawin gave two or three short sighs, which his wife hearing, she wiped her eyes with her checqued apron. Their fair daughter made the same sort of noise that one does who takes snuff, and the soft harmless youth, their second son, who leaned forward on the table instead of kneeling, let two tears fall on the board, which he formed with his forefinger into the initials of his name; the little girl looked from one to another, and wondered what ailed them all, then casting down her eyes, she tried to look devout, but they would not be restrained. The dying youth, who at the beginning testified the utmost impatience, by degrees became the most affected of all. His features first grew composed, then rueful, and finally he turned himself on his face in humble prostration. Isaac pleaded fervently with the Almighty that the sufferer's days might be lengthened, and that he might not be cut off in the bloom of youth, and exuberance of levity;-at that season when man is more apt to speak than calculate, and to act than consider, even though speech should be crime, and action irretrievable ruin. "Spare and recover him, O merciful Father, yet for a little while," said he, "that he may have his eyes opened to see his ruined state both by nature and by wicked works; for who among us liveth and sinneth not, and what changes may be made in his dispositions in a few years or a few months by thy forbearance ? Thou takest no pleasure in the death of sinners, but rather that all should repent and turn unto thee and live; therefore, for his immortal soul's sake, and for the sake of what thy Son hath suffered for ruined man, spare him

till he have time and space to repent. Should his youthful mind have been tainted with the prevailing vice of infidelity, so that he hath been tempted to lift up his voice against the most sacred truths revealed by thyself; and should he, like all the profane, have been following his inclinations rather than his judgment, how is he now prepared to abide the final result? or to be ushered into the very midst of those glorious realities which he hath hitherto treated as a fiction? And how shall he stand before thee, when he discovers, too late, that there is indeed a God whose being and attributes he hath doubted, a Saviour whom he had despised, a heaven into which he cannot enter, and a hell which he can never escape? Perhaps he hath been instrumental in unhing ing the principles of others, and of misleading some unwary being from the paths of truth and holiness; and even in the flush of reckless depravity, may have deprived some innocent, loving, and trusting being, of virtue, and left her a prey to sorrow and despair; and with these and more grievous crimes on his head, all unrepented, and unatoned,-how shall appear before thee?

At this part of the prayer, the sobs behind the bed became so audible, that it made the old father to pause shortly in the midst of his fervent supplications at the footstool of grace, and the dying youth, was heard to weep in suppressed breathings. Isaac went on, and prayed still for the sufferer as one insensible to all that passed, but he prayed so earnestly for his forgiveness, for the restoration of his right reason, and for health and space for repentance and amendment, that the sincerity of his heart was apparent in every word and every tone.

When he rose from his knees there was a deep silence, no one knew what to say or to whom to address himself, for the impression made on all their minds was peculiarly strong. The only motion made for a good while was by the soft young man at the table, who put on his bonnet as he was wont to do after prayers, but remembering that the minister was present, he slipped it off again by the ear, as if he had been stealing it from his own head. At that instant the dying youth stretched out his hand. Isaac saw it, and looking at his mo

ther, said he wanted something. "It is yours-your hand that I want," said the youth, in a kind and expres sive tone. Isaac started, he had judged him to be in a state of delirium, and his surprise may be conceived when he heard him speak with calmness and composure. He gave him his hand, but from what he had heard fall from his lips before, knew not how to address him. "You are a good man," said the youth, "God in heaven reward you!” "What is this I hear?" cried Isaac breathless with astonishment. "Have the disordered senses been rallied in one moment? Have our unworthy prayers indeed been heard at the throne of omnipotence, and answered so suddenly? Let us bow ourselves with gratitude and adoration. And for thee, my dear young friend, be of good cheer, for there are better things intended toward thee. Thou shalt yet live to repent of thy sins, and to become a chosen vessel of mercy in the house of him that saved thee."

"If I am spared in life for a little while," said the youth," I shall make atonement for some of my transgressions, for the enormity of which I am smitten to the heart.'

"Trust to no atonement that you can make yourself," cried Isaac fervently. "It is a bruised reed, to which, if you lean, it will go into your hand and pierce it; a shelter that will not brook the blast. You must trust to a higher atonement, else your repentance shall be as stubble, or as chaff that the wind carrieth away."

"So disinterested!" exclaimed the youth. "Is it my wellbeing alone over which your soul yearns? This is more than I expected to meet with in humanity! Good old father, I am unable to speak more to you to-day, but give me your hand, and promise to come back to see me on Friday. If I am spared in life you shall find me all that you wish, and shall never more have to charge me with ingratitude." In the zeal of his devotion, Isaac had quite forgot all personal injuries. He did not even remember that there were such beings as his grandchildren in existence at that time; but when the young man had said those words, that he should find him all that he wished, and that he would no more be ungrateful," the

sobs and weeping behind the bed grew so audible, that all farther exchange of sentiments was interrupted. The youth grasped the old father's hand, and motioned for him to go away, and he was about to comply, out of respect for the feelings of the sufferer, but before he could withdraw his hand from the bed, or rise from the seat on which he had just sat down, the weeping fair one burst from behind the bed; and falling on his knees with her face, she seized his hand in both hers, kissed it an hundred times, and bathed it all over with her tears. Isaac's heart was at all times soft as wax, and at that particular time in a mood to be melted quite he tried to soothe the damsel, though he himself was as much affected as she was-but her mantle was still over her head, and how could he know her?-His old dim eyes were moreover so much suffused with tears, that he did not perceive that mantle to be the very same with his own, and that one hand must have been the maker of both.-He shook her hand so close below her bosom, that his had not room to move, then drawing it forth, he embraced her neck and shoulders, saying, "Be comforted, love, he will mend He will mend, and be yet a stay to you and to them all-be of good comfort. dear love."

When he had said this, he wiped his eyes hastily and impatiently with the lap of his plaid, seized his old pikestaff, with the head turned round like crummy's horn; and as he tottered through the floor, drawing up his plaid around his waist, its purple rustic colours caught his eye, dim as it was; and he perceived that it was not his tartan one with the gaudy spangles, but the grey marled one that was made to him by his beloved daughter. Who can trace the links of association in the human mind? The chain is more angled, more oblique, than the course marked out by the bolt of heaven-as momentarily formed, and as quickly lost. In all cases, they are indefinable, but on the mind of old age, they glance like dreams and visions of something that have been, and are for ever gone. The instant that Isaac's eye fell on his mantle, he looked has tily and involuntarily around him, first on the one side and then on the other, his visage manifesting trepidation and uncertainty. Pray what have you lost, Sir ?" said the kind and

VOL. IX.

THE termination of the Niger is the great problem of African geography, the solution of which has hitherto baffled all the efforts of European travellers. Nor need we much won

der at this, considering the unexampled risks to which Europeans are necessarily exposed in the prosecution of this object, from the climate of the country peculiarly hostile to their constitutions, from the fatigues and privations to be undergone, and from the barbarous and lawless character of the government, under which there is no adequate security either for person or property. The life of an African traveller is a continual series of hair-breadth escapes. If he succeeds in conciliating the government and people by a feigned compliance with their religion and customs, he has still in the climate an equally formidable enemy to contend with; and when he is once disabled by sickness, he is at the mercy of the ferocious set of wretches by whom he is surrounded, who, far from aiding him, or contributing to his recovery, are only awaiting the moment of his decease to plunder him. That none of the numerous and brave men who have adventured on the field of African discovery, should, amid these complicated evils, have succeeded in penetrating into

Accompanied by Geographical Notices of Soudan, and of the course of the Niger, with a Chart of the Routes, and a variety of Coloured Plates, illustrative of the Costumes of the several Natives of Northern Africa. By Captain G. F. Lyon, R. N. Companion of the late Mr Ritchie. London. John Murray. 1821.

the heart of the country, and completely explored this unknown region, is certainly not to be wondered at. We may rather admire the astonishing perseverance which has enabled them to brave so many dangers, and to traverse so large a portion of a country inhabited by such an unfriendly race, of uncouth and ferocious manners, and of a hostile faith. We ought rather to be grateful for the various and interesting information which we have received from the different adventurers who have visited Africa, than grudge that they have not performed impossibilities, by subduing the insurmountable obstacles to their further progress, which grew up almost at every step.

Africa, it is true, has not yet been fully explored. But it is like a fortress besieged on all sides; it has been assaulted from every quarterfrom the east, west, and north; but though we have seized some of the outworks, the body of the fortress still holds out. We must not imagine, however, that our incursions into the country have been wholly useless. They have brought us information which is not only highly useful and interesting in itself, but which will enable us to shape our course aright in any future researches which we may attempt. Each successive adventurer in Africa clears away some of the obstacles that impede the track of discovery, and makes it more easy for future travellers: and thus, by slow degrees, and by various and persevering attempts, will the whole of this continent be at length laid open to the eager curiosity of Europe. We must succeed at last. Some adventurer, inore fortunate than the rest, though not more prudent or courageous, will grasp the wished for prize, for it seems impossible that so much energy, and such various and well directed efforts, should long continue to be exerted in vain.

The present work contains an account of the mission of Mr Ritchie, who travelled into the interior of Africa under the orders of the British government. He was accompanied by Lieutenant Lyon of the royal navy, and by John Belford, a ship-wright from the dock-yard at Malta. They met at Tripoli 25th November 1818, whence

they purposed to set out to the southward for the purpose of exploring the interior. At Tripoli they were introduced to the Bashaw, who was made fully acquainted with their views, and also to the Viceroy of Fezzan, named Mukni, who was lately returned from a slave hunt, and had brought from the interior a numerous body of captives and many camels, and was in consequence in great favour with the Bashaw. He also promised them protection, and they waited at Tripoli until he should return to Mourzouk, the capital of Fezzan, when they proposed to accompany his caravan. His departure was delayed for some time, and they employed the interval in assuming the dress of the country, and instructing themselves in all the minutiæ of its religion and manners. While in Tripoli a grand procession of the Maraboots, a certain order of Mahometan priests, took place, of which Mr Lyon gives an amusing account. These priests, he observes, are of two classes,-idiots who are allowed to say and do whatever they please, and men possessed of all their senses, who, by juggling and performing many bold and disgusting tricks, acquire the right of being the greatest rogues and nuisances in the whole community. They assemble in mosques every Friday afternoon, eating snakes, scorpions, &c. affecting to be inspired, and committing every ridi culous extravagance. Mr Lyon, at the hazard of his life if he had been discovered, witnessed the annual procession of the Maraboots, which be gan on the 9th January 1819. These saints run about the streets, affecting to be furious, and playing a thousand disgusting and ferocious tricks.

"During the time the Maraboots," says MrLyon," who are guarded and attended by a great number of people) are allowed to parade the streets, no Christians or Jews can with any safety make their appearance, as they would, if once in the power of these wretches, be instantly torn to pieces; indeed, wherever they show themselves, on their terraces or from their windows, they are sure of a plentiful shower of stones from the boys who are in attendance." p.

9.

"As we passed through one of the streets, (he continues) a party of Maltese and other Christians were discovered on a terrace, and were instantly assailed by showers of stones. I observed, that whenever the Maraboots passed the house of a Christian, they affect