nished important materials for elucidating the geo-' graphy of the desert.

But though we have now afsurance that the Niger has its rise in a chain of mountains which bound the eastern side of the kingdom of Bambouk, and that it takes its course in a contrary direction from that of the Senegal and the Gambia, which flow on the opposite side of the same ridge, yet the place of its final destination is still unknown; for whether it reaches the ocean, or is lost, as several of the rivers of mount Atlas are, in the immensity of the desert; or whether, like the streams of the Caspian, it terminates in a vast inland sea, are questions on which there hangs an impenetrable cloud.

From a passage in Eschylus, in which Prometheus relates to Io the story of her future wanderings, there is reason to believe that some of the ancients imagined the river Niger to be the southern branch of the Egyptian Nile, which others represented as rising in the hills, to which they gave the fanciful name of the mountains of the Moon. The passage from Eschylus, as translated by Potter, is exprefsed in the following words:

Avoid the Arimaspian troops.

-Approach them not, but seek

A land far distant, where the tawny race

Dwell hear the fountains of the sun, and where

The Nigris pours his dufky waters; wind
Along his banks till thou fhalt reach the fall,
Where, from the mountains with papyrus crown'd,
The venerable Nile impetuous pours

His headlong torrent; he shall guide thy steps
To those irriguous plains, whose triple sides
His arms surround; there have the fates decreed
Thee and thy sons to form the lengthen'd line.”

The accounts received by the committee, of the probable facility of opening a trade from great Britain to the various cities on the Niger, encourage a belief that the inland regions of Africa may soon be united with Europe in that great bond of commercial fellowship which the mutual wants and different productions of the other continents of the globe have happily established. Much, undoubtedly, we fhall have to communicate, and something we may have to learn: for the merchants of Barbary afsert that the people of Houfsa have the art of tempering their iron with more than European fkill; and that their files in particular are much superior to those of Great Britain and France.

To what degrees of refinement the unmeasured length of successive generations may have improved their manufactures; or to what arts, unknown and unimagined in Europe, their ample experience may have given rise, the next dispatches from major Houghton may probably disclose. That in some of these insulated empires the knowledge and the language of ancient Egypt may still imperfectly survive, is not an unpleasing supposition: nor is it absolutely impofsible that the Carthagenians, who do not appear to have perifhed with their cities, may have retired to the southern parts of Africa; and, though lost to the world in the vast oblivion of the desert, may have carried with them to the new regions they occupy, some portion of those arts and sciences, and of that commercial knowledge, for which the inhabitants of Carthage were once so emi,nently famed.'

7

MORAL REFLECTIONS.

To the Editor of the Bee, by Mira.

THERE is a point beyond which the human mind cannot suffer, and there are also bounds, beyond which human calamity cannot extend. Reflect, my beloved friend, with humble gratitude; reflect how far you are yet from reaching the verge of that frightful gulph. Reason, religion, friendship, and conscious rectitude, are yours; open your heart to those consolations which these supply; and above all, let the consideration of the fhortnefs of life mitigate the severity of its sufferings, and the afsured hope of that which is to come, teach you to rise superior to them; seek relief from that Being, who, in times of extremity, often brings us unhoped deliverance, and is alike powerful and willing to afsist those who put their trust in his aid. It is by awful dispensations, and in hours of peculiar darkness, that the Almighty teaches his feeble creatures, to raise their eyes from second causes, and what they call fortuitous events, to Him, the great first Cause and supreme Governor of the universe. It is then their virtues are made perfect by discipline, that their faith triumphs over the world: it is then the most enlightened of the human race are brought to a feeling sense of their own ignorance, that with humility they adore what they cannot comprehend, and cry out, Man is error and ignorance! Being of beings have mercy upon us!

Ah why has heaven condemn'd me to sustain

This grief, for ills I never can relieve; .

Why must I only weep the wretches' pain,

Prove the warm with, yet want the pow'r to give;

Why mark true merit immaturely fade,
Uncherished, unprotected and unknown;
Lost in obscurity's remotest fhaue,

The buds of genius blasted soon as blown!
Why must I see unpitied, unredrefs'd,
The cruel injuries of wanton pow'r;
Forc'd to conceal the anguish of my breast,
Denied to succour whom I most deplore!
Yet heaven can witness I ne'er with'd for wealth,
Nor the gay follies of a foreign land;
Ne'er sacrific'd to pleasure, peace and health,
Nor indolence preferr'd to useful toil;
Mine was the wish, far from the world to plam
The moral tale, instructive of my kind;
To point the best pursuits of social man,
And form by stealth the uncorrupted mind;
Unnotic'd to convey the prompt supply,

To chear dull poverty's obscure abode;
To read the language of the grateful eye,
Catch the warm praise, and point as due to God;
Of youth the kind affections to engage,

To nourish tender infancy with bread;
With kind compassion cherish feeble age,

And give the cordial which I yet may need. Yet say is happiness to wealth allied,

Had Heaven so will'd, it ne'er had been afsign'd,

To gratify the wish of pamper'd pride,

Or work. the purpose of th' invidious mind.

Hence vain complaints; hence and be heard no more!
Heaven's wond'rous plan, to Heav'n is only knowA;
Perhaps endowd'd with affluence and pow'r,
That insolence I hate had been my own;
With pleasure circled, and secure from fear,
Perhaps a stranger to each softer tie

I ne'er had known compassion's cordial tear,
The thousand cordial sweets of sympathy.
Though wealth by providence has been deny'd,.

Fair is my lot, no niggard blifs is mine;
For I can heal the wounds of honest pride,
And teach revenge its purpose to resign;

Can cherish modest merit with applause,

With kindness soothe the apprehensive mind'
Can plead with boldness virtue's injur'd cause,
Or hide the frailties of my feeble kind:
And oft the anguish of the bursting heart,
The gentle voice of friendship will restrain;

A mite to indigence will joy impart,

A pitying sigh, some respite give to pain,
A cheerful taie deceive the weight of years,
A doubtful hope, the trembling tear suspend,

A welcome look dispell a lover's fears.
A simple sonnet please a partial friend.

And these are mine, now I these gifts dispise,
Eternal power, to whom each gift I owe,
With-hold even from my prayers the means of vice,
Nor let my wish fulfill'd procure my woe.

Hector Mc Keil

TAK TENT AND BE WARY.

A SCOTS SONG NEVER PUBLISHED BEFORE,

1.

'HEH! lafs, but you're canty and vogie!
'Wow but your een look pawky and roguie!
'What was ye dooing in yonder green bogie,

?

MIRA,

· Up in this morning sae airy and grey?' "I've been wi' someboddie,-what need ye to speer "I've been wi' young Jamie,-I've been wi' my dear! "God save me! my mither will miss me, I fear : D'ye ken lafs he's courting me a' the lang day!"

II.

O Kate I tak tent' and be warie;
Jamie's a sad ane! he never will marry:
Think o' poor Tibby!-he's left her to carry

Black burning fhame till the day that the die!'
"I carena for Tibby,-
-a glaiket young quean!
"Her gaits wi' the fallows, we a' ken lang syne; ..
"The heart o' my laddie I never can tyne,
"He promis'd to marry me down on yon lea!

III..

"O no! I need nae ba warie;

"Yes, yes! he means for to marry; `

"Wi'mony sweet kisses he ca'd me his dearie,

"And swore he wad tak me before beltan day!"

O Kate, Kate! he'll deceive ye,

(The deil's in the cheil! he does naithing but grieve me,) He's fu' o' deceit, gin ye like to believe me,

The fause loon last night said the same thing to me.'

IV.

"Dear Jean but you're unco camstrarie,

"Ye'll ne'er let a boddie trou ever they'll marry;

"Ye've now gi'en me something that's no light to carry ; "Twill lie at my heart till the day that I die!"

She gaid awa sighing,-fhe gaid awa wae ;

Her mither flet sare, for her biding away;

She sat down to spin,-ne'er a word could the say,
But drew out a thread wi' the tear in her ee!

"O yes! 'tis time to be warie;

"Jamie's a sad ane, he never will marry ;
"He may rise in the morning, and wait till he's weary,
"He's no see my face this year and a day.”