of a mind in health. His patient dependence on that Providence which looks through all eternity, his silent resignation, his ready accommodation of his thoughts and behavior to its inscrutable ways, is at once the most excellent sort of self-denial, and a source of the most exalted transports. Society is the true sphere of human virtue. In social, active life, difficulties will perpetually be met with; restraints of many kinds will be necessary; and studying to behave right in respect of these, is a discipline of the human heart, useful to others, and improving to itself. Suffering is no duty, but where it is necessary to avoid guilt, or to do good; nor pleasure a crime, but where it strengthens the influence of bad inclinations, or lessens the generous activity of virtue. The happiness allotted to man in his present state is indeed faint and low, compared with his immortal prospects and noble capacities; but yet whatever portion of it the distributing hand of Heaven offers to each individual, is a needful support and refreshment for the present moment, so far as it may not hinder the attaining of his final destination.

"Return then with me from continual misery to moderate enjoyment and grateful alacrity. Return from the contracted views of solitude to the proper duties of a relative and dependent being. Religion is not confined to cells and closets, nor restrained to sullen retirement. These are the gloomy doctrines of Superstition, by which she endeavors to break those chains of benevolence and social affection that link the welfare of every particular with that of the whole. Remember that the greatest honor you can pay to the Author of your being is by such a cheerful behavior as discovers a mind satisfied with his dispensations."

Here my preceptress paused, and I was going to express my acknowledgments for her discourse, when a ring of bells from the neighboring village, and a new-risen sun darting his beams through my windows, awakened me.

ODE TO WISDOM.

The solitary bird of night

Through the pale shades now wings his flight,

And quits the time-shook tower

Where, shelter'd from the blaze of day,

In philosophic gloom he lay,

Beneath his ivy bower.

With joy I hear the solemn sound
Which midnight echoes waft around,

And sighing gales repeat:
Fav'rite of Pallas!' I attend,
And faithful to thy summons bend,
At Wisdom's awful seat.

Minerva, the goddess of wisdom.

She loves the cool, the silent eve,
Where no false shows of life deceive,
Beneath the lunar ray;

Here Folly drops each vain disguise,
Nor sports her gayly-color'd dyes
As in the glare of day.

O Pallas! queen of every art

That glads the sense, or mends the heart,
Bless'd source of purer joys;

In every form of beauty bright,
That captivates the mental sight
With pleasure and surprise;
To thine unspotted shrine I bow;
Assist thy modest suppliant's vow,
That breathes no wild desires:
But taught, by thy unerring rules,
To shun the fruitless wish of fools,
To nobler views aspires.

Not fortune's gem, ambition's plume,
Not Cytherea's' fading bloom,

Be objects of my prayer:
Let avarice, vanity, and pride,
These glittering, envied toys divide,
The dull rewards of care:

To me thy better gifts impart,
Each moral beauty of the heart,
By studious thought refined:
For wealth, the smiles of glad content;
For power, its amplest, best extent,
An empire o'er my mind.

When fortune drops her gay parade,
When pleasure's transient roses fade,
And wither in the tomb,
Unchang'd is thy immortal prize,
Thy ever-verdant laurels rise
In undecaying bloom.

By thee protected, I defy

The coxcomb's sneer, the stupid lie

Of ignorance and spite;

Alike contemn the leaden fool,

And all the pointed ridicule

Of undiscerning wit.

From envy, hurry, noise, and strife,

The dull impertinence of life,
In thy retreat I rest;

Pursue thee to thy peaceful groves,
Where Plato's sacred spirit roves,

In all thy graces dress'd.

1 Venus.

He bade Ilissus' tuneful stream
Convey the philosophic theme
Of perfect, fair, and good:
Attentive Athens caught the sound,
And all her listening sons around
In awful silence stood.

Reclaim'd, her wild, licentious youth
Confess'd the potent voice of truth,
And felt its just control;

The passions ceased their loud alarms,
And virtue's soft, persuasive charms
O'er all their senses stole.

Thy breath inspires the poet's song,
The patriot's free, unbiass'd tongue,
The hero's generous strife;
Thine are retirement's silent joys,
And all the sweet, endearing ties
Of still, domestic life!

No more to fabled names confin'd,
To thee, Supreme, All-perfect Mind,
My thoughts direct their flight;
Wisdom's thy gift, and all her force
From thee deriv'd, unchanging source
Of intellectual light!

Oh! send her sure, her steady ray,
To regulate my doubtful way
Through life's perplexing road;
The mists of error to control,
And through its gloom direct my soul
To happiness and good!

Beneath her clear, discerning eye,
The visionary shadows fly

Of folly's painted show;

She sees, through every fair disguise,
That all, but virtue's solid joys,
Is vanity and wo.

MUNGO PARK, 1771-1806.

MUNGO PARK, the renowned African traveller, was born at Fowlshiels, in Selkirkshire, Scotland, September 10, 1771, and was the seventh of thirteen chil dren. Though the circumstances of his father, who was a farmer, were very limited, he did all he could for the education of his children, and Mungo was placed in the grammar-school at Selkirk, where he distinguished himself for his ready talents as well as for his remarkable perseverance and application. He had

A small stream near Athens.

an early desire to study medicine, in which he was gratified by his father, and after qualifying himself in his profession at Edinburgh, he went to London in search of employment, and was speedily appointed assistant surgeon on board the Worcester, East Indiaman, through the interest of that world-renowned patron of enterprising and scientific men-Sir Joseph Banks. Mr. Park showed himself every way worthy of this appointment; and shortly after his return from the East Indies he entered the service of the "Association for the Promotion of Discovery through the Interior of Africa," and sailed from Portsmouth on the 22d of May, 1795, in the brig Endeavour.

His instructions were to proceed to the Niger by the nearest and most convenient route, and endeavor to trace its course, from its rise to its termination, and visit as many of the principal cities on its banks as possible. His vessel arrived at the mouth of the Gambia on the 21st of June, and after sailing up the river as far as Jonkakonda, he quitted her, and made preparations to proceed into the interior of the country by land. He was soon seized with fever, attended with delirium, which brought him almost to the grave, and he did not recover sufficiently to commence his journey till December. He then set out with a negro servant, who understood the Mandingo and English languages, as a guide and interpreter, and five others who were not immediately under his control, but who were made to understand that their own safety depended on their fidelity to him. Their outfit was a most meagre one, considering the long and perilous journey they were to undertake. The dangers that they encountered, and the sufferings they endured from hunger and thirst, and sickness, and assaults from predatory bands of savages, together with their constant exposure to attacks from wolves and hyenas and even lions that beset their path, have caused this to be considered as one of the most dangerous journeys in modern travels. It would be, of course, out of the question, in this short notice, to go into any of the details, full of perilous interest as they were: suffice it to say, that on the 21st of July, 1796, weak and almost entirely exhausted, Mr. Park had the inexpressible gratification of coming in sight of Sego, the capital of Bambarra, situated on the long wishedfor river, which the natives term Joliba or the "Great Water." But we will give his own words on

THE FIRST SIGHT OF THE NIGER.

Hearing that two negroes were going to Sego, I was happy to have their company, and we set out immediately. I was constantly taken for a Moor, and became the subject of much merriment to the Bambarrans, who, seeing me drive my horse before me, laughed heartily at my appearance. "He has been at Mecca," says one; "you may see that by his clothes ;" another asked if my horse was sick; a third wished to purchase it, &c.; so that I believe the very slaves were ashamed to be seen in my company. Just before it was dark, we took up our lodgings for the night at a small village, where I procured some victuals for myself and some corn for my horse, at the moderate price of a button, and was told that I should see the Niger (which the negroes call Joliba, or the Great Water)

The

early the next day. The lions are here very numerous; the gates are shut a little after sunset, and nobody allowed to go out. thoughts of seeing the Niger in the morning, and the troublesome buzzing of musquitoes, prevented me from shutting my eyes during the night, and I had saddled my horse, and was in readiness before daylight; but on account of the wild beasts, we were obliged to wait until the people were stirring and the gates opened. This happened to be a market-day at Sego, and the roads were everywhere filled with people carrying different articles to sell. We passed four large villages, and at eight o'clock saw the smoke over Sego.

As we approached the town, I was fortunate enough to overtake the fugitive Kaartans, to whose kindness I had been so much indebted in my journey through Bambarra. They readily agreed to introduce me to their king; and we rode together through the marshy ground, where, as I was looking anxiously around for the river, one of them called out geo affilli, (see the water;) and looking forwards, I saw with infinite pleasure the great object of my mission, the long-sought for majestic Niger, glittering in the morning sun, as broad as the Thames at Westminster, and flowing slowly to the eastward.1 I hastened to the brink, and having drunk of the water, lifted up my fervent thanks in prayer to the Great Ruler of all things, for having thus far crowned my endeavors with success.

KINDNESS OF A WOMAN TO HIM, AND A SONG OVER HIS DISTRESS.

I waited more than two hours without having an opportunity of crossing the river; during which time, the people who had crossed carried information to Mansong the king, that a white man was waiting for a passage, and was coming to see him. He immediately sent over one of his chief men, who informed me that the king could not possibly see me until he knew what had brought me into this country; and that I must not presume to cross the river without the king's permission. He therefore advised me to lodge at a distant village, to which he pointed, for the night; and said, that in the morning he would give me further instructions how to conduct myself. This was very discouraging. However, as there was no remedy, I set off for the village, where I found, to my great mortification, that no person would admit me into his house. I was regarded with astonishment and fear, and was obliged to sit all day without victuals in the shade of a tree; and the night threatened to be very uncomfortable, for the wind rose, and there was

1 Later and more fortunate travellers have solved the great problem, the honor of explaining which was denied to Park; and we now know that this great river, after flowing to a considerable distance eastward of Timbuctoo, makes a bend or elbow like the Burampooter, and after pursuing a south-westerly course, falls into the Atlantic Ocean on the coast of Benin. Read, "Journal of an Expedition to explore the course and termination of the Niger, with a narrative of a voyage down that river to its termination. By Richard and John Lander."