which accompanied the expedition, the indomitable Clapperton pursued his way, and had the happiness to reach the spot at which his previous journey, commenced from the other side of the continent, had ended. Here, as if the work allotted to him in this world was ended, this brave man gave way under the effects of toil and privation. Nothing can convey a more touching testimony to the character of Clapperton than the narrative of his end, given by his faithful serf ant, Richard Lander. Sleeping on the reedy banks of a stagnant stream had brought on dysentery. "Twenty days," says Lander, "my poor master remained in a low and distressed state. His body, from being robust and vigorous, became weak and emaciated, and indeed was little better than a skeleton."
Lander himself was in a fever and almost unable to stir, but he was assisted by an old black slave. Meanwhile his patient's sleep was always short and disturbed, and troubled with frightful dreams. Lander read to him daily from the New Testament, till, one day calling him to his bedside, Clapperton told him that he should shortly be no more, and that he felt himself dying. "God forbid, my dear master!" exclaimed Lander; but the dying man only answered by bidding him not be so much affected, as it was the will of the Almighty. He then gave some minute directions for the return of the survivors, for the care of his journals and other things, and soon afterwards breathed his last. Lander obtained permission to bury the body, and himself performed the mournful task of reading over it the funeral service.
"Then," continues Lander, in his beautiful narrative of this event, "I returned, disconsolate and oppressed,
