"The jealousy of the traders, and of the missionaries settled on the African coast, who constantly withheld or perverted that information which was absolutely necessary for the successful prosecution of the journey, induced Ruxton to abandon the attempt for the present. He made, however, several interesting excursions towards the interior, and more especially in the country of the Bosjesmans. "Finding his own resources inadequate for the accomplishment of his favorite project, Mr. Ruxton, on his return to England, made application for Government assistance. But though this demand was not altogether refused, it having been referred to the Council of the Royal Geographical Society, and favorably reported upon by that body, so many delays interposed that Ruxton, in disgust, resolved to withdraw from the scheme, and to abandon the field of African research which he had already contemplated from its borders. "He next bent his steps to Mexico; and, fortunately, has presented to the world his reminiscences of that country, in one of the most fascinating volumes which of late years has issued from the press. "It would however appear that the African scheme, the darling project of his life, had again recurred to him at a later period; for in the course of the present spring, before setting out on that journey which was destined to be his last, the following expressions occur in one of his letters:--"'My movements are uncertain, for I am trying to get up a yacht voyage to Borneo and the Indian Archipelago; have volunteered to Government to explore Central Africa; and the Aborigenes Protection Society wish me to go out to Canada to organize the Indian tribes; whilst, for my own part and inclination, I wish to go to all parts of the world at once.' "His last letter, written just before his departure from England, a few weeks previous to his death, will hardly be read by anyone who ever knew the writer without a tear of sympathy for the sad fate of this fine young man, dying miserably in a strange land, before he had well commenced the hazardous journey whose excitement and dangers he so joyously anticipated:-- "'As you say, human nature can't go on feeding on civilized fixings in this big village; and this child has felt like going west for many a month, being "half froze for buffler-meat and mountain doin's." My route takes me _via_ New York, the Lakes, and St. Louis, to Fort Leavenworth or Independence, on the Indian frontier. Thence, packing my "possibles" on a mule, and mounting a buffalo horse (Panchito, if he is alive), I strike the Santa Fé trail to the Arkansa, away up that river to the mountains, winter in the Bayou Salade, where Killbuck and La Bonté joined the Yutes, cross the mountains next spring to Great Salt Lake--and that's far enough to look forward to--always supposing my hair is not lifted by Comanche or Pawnee on the scalping route of the Coon Creeks and Pawnee Fork.'