said, "to tell them of the fortitude and enterprise of those who had distinguished themselves in the cause of discovery, and to hold up to the admiration of his young friends their intrepidity and perseverance, as he hoped thus to incite them to habits of industry and application, and to show them how much may be accomplished by the proper exercise of the 'talents' with which each individual is furnished. Every one," continued Uncle Thomas, "is not endowed with the genius of a Bacon or a Newton, or that of a Shakespeare or a Scott, but there are very few who have not some peculiar qualification, or who really know the extent of their powers, because they neglect to bring them into exercise. Had Mungo Park, for instance, of whose adventures I will tell you presently, remained at home in ease and inactivity, he might never have suspected his own powers of endurance; and how comparatively little should we now know of the interior of Africa. He died, it is true, leaving unsolved

the great problem in African geography-the source and termination of the Niger; but his example incited others to make the attempt, and our knowledge of those countries and their inhabitants has been gradually increasing."

"I am glad that you are going to tell us about Park," said Frank, whose interest in this traveller had been excited by an anecdote which he had read a day or two before, regarding the consolation which Park derived from contemplating the extraordinary beauty of a little moss plant when he was naked and alone in the midst of an African wilderness, hundreds of miles distant from the nearest European settlement, and when everything around him was full of danger and difficulty; "I am very anxious to know about Park," and he began to relate the anecdote to which we have alluded.

"Stop, my dear!" said Uncle Thomas. "I will tell you about him by and bye, and when you hear the story of his sufferings previous to this touching incident, you will be better able

of

to appreciate and to understand it, and to enter into his feelings on the occasion. Before we begin with Park, however, I must tell you John Ledyard, one of his predecessors, and perhaps, one of the most singular men that ever lived. But I must bid you good-bye at present. To-morrow evening I will be ready for you."

On the following evening, when the boys had as usual seated themselves round Uncle Thomas's chair, he began :

"John Ledyard was born in Connecticut, in North America, in the year 1751. Almost from his childhood his character exhibited symptoms of that restlessness which marked his future career; and before he was twenty-one years of age, he had with characteristic impatience alternately adopted and rejected the professions of law and divinity. Nothing worth relating has been recorded of him during his stay

in the lawyer's office, but his college life affords some stories too characteristic to be passed over.

"Soon after he relinquished the study of the law, it happened that an old friend of his grandfather's, who had recently established a school, or college, at which young men were educated as missionaries to the Indians, offered to receive Ledyard into his establishment for this purpose. The offer was eagerly embraced; but Ledyard seems to have adopted the profession more on account of the novelty of the scenes to which it would introduce him, and the adventures which it promised to afford, than from any proper feeling of the importance of the cause in which he was about to engage.

"After remaining about four months at college, he one day suddenly disappeared, without communicating his intentions to any one, and, as was afterwards discovered, penetrated far into the country, at that time almost a wilderness, and wandered about from tribe to tribe among the Indians. After an absence of

three months and a half he again returned, and resumed his studies; but it was now evident that his heart was no longer set upon a missionary career. Instead of devoting himself to such studies as were necessary to fit him for this arduous duty, he spent much of his time in acting plays. Calm study had no charms for him. He delighted to engage in perilous undertakings, in which difficulties were to be encountered and overcome. One of his college

frolics is thus related :

"In the depth of winter, when the ground was covered with snow, he persuaded a party of his fellow-students to accompany him to the top of a neighbouring mountain to pass the night. The president of the college made no objection to the project, as he thought it would help to inure the young men to hardships, to which a residence among the Indians would constantly expose them. The party accordingly set out, headed by Ledyard. He led them by a pathless route through the thickets of a swamp,