time menaced him, manifested itself with great violence, and continued to torment him during the whole season of the rains. His landlord, meanwhile, exerted himself to keep up his hopes, and having by some means or another obtained possession of an English Common Prayer Book, he communicated the use of it to Park, who was thus enabled to beguile the gloomy hours of his solitude and sickness. At length the rains became less frequent, and the fever abated, so that he could move out to enjoy the fresh air in the fields. On the 19th of April, Karfa, the slave-merchant, having collected his slaves, and completed all necessary preparations, set out towards the coast, taking our traveller, to whom his behaviour had always been marked by the greatest kindness, along with him. Their road led them across a vast wilderness, where the sufferings of every member of the caravan, and more particularly of the slaves, were most exquisite; but affliction was far from having taught them commiseration, for a fine young female slave, fainting from fatigue, had no sooner signified her inability to go on, than the universal cry of the caravan was, “cut her throat, cut her throat.” By the interposition of Karfa her life was spared, but she was abandoned on the road, where she was no doubt soon devoured by wild beasts. At length, after a long, toilsome journey, Karfa succeeded in fulfilling his promise, and conducted our traveller safe to Pisania, where the good old man was overwhelmed with the gratitude of his guest. Park now took his passage in an American vessel, and on arriving in the West Indies, quitted this ship for a packet bound for Falmouth, where he arrived on the 22d of December, 1797, after an absence of two years and seven months. Immediately on his landing he hastened to London, where he arrived before daylight on the morning of Christmas-day. It being too early an hour to call on his brother-in-law, Mr. Dickson, he strolled about for some time in the neighbouring streets. At length, finding one of the entrances into the gardens of the British Museum accidentally open, he went in and walked about there for some time. It happened that Mr. Dickson, who had the care of those gardens, went there early that morning on some trifling business. What must have been his emotions on beholding, at that extraordinary time and place, the vision, as it must at first have appeared, of his long lost friend, the object of so many anxious reflections, and whom he had long numbered with the dead.