The King Of Attah, Who Seemed To Have Formed An Attachment To Lander, Presented Him With Four Small But Very

Beautiful horses, which he succeeded in conveying to Fernando Po. Poor old Pascoe the black, who buried Belzoni, and whose

Name occurs so frequently in Clapperton's journal, and the narrative of the Landers, as a faithful and brave servant, died at Attah.

For some time, no information which could be relied upon reached this country, relative to the progress of the expedition, although some sinister reports were afloat relative to the fatal termination of it. At length, however, all suspense was extinguished by the arrival of an individual belonging to the expedition, who gave the following account of the melancholy manner in which Richard Lander met his death, and which was subsequently corroborated by Mr. Moore, a medical gentleman attached to the expedition, and who was himself an eyewitness of the whole murderous scene. The particulars of the mournful event of Lander's death are thus given:

"Richard Lander and his associates entered the Brass River, and began ascending it in excellent spirits. With them were two or three negro musicians, who, when the labours of the day were over, cheered their countrymen with their instruments, at the sound of which they danced and sang in company, while the few Englishmen be longing to the party, amused themselves with angling on the banks of the stream, in which, though not very expert, they were tolerably successful. In this pleasing manner, stemming a strong current by day, and resting from their toil at night, Richard Lander and his little band, totally unapprehensive of danger, and unprepared to overcome or meet it, proceeded slowly up the Niger. At some distance from its mouth, and on his way thither, they met King Jacket, a relative of King Boy, and one of the heartless and sullen chiefs, who rule over a large tract of marshy country on the banks of the Brass River. This individual was hailed by our travellers, and a present of tobacco and rum was offered to him, he accepted it with a murmur of dissatisfaction, and his eyes sparkled with malignity, as he said in his own language, 'White man will never reach Eboe this time.' This sentence was immediately interpreted to Lander by a native of the country, a boy, who afterwards bled to death from a wound in the knee, but Lander made light of the matter, and attributed Jacket's prophecy, for so it proved, to the petulance and malice of his disposition. Soon, however, he discovered his error, but it was too late to correct it, or evade the danger which threatened him. On ascending as far inland as sixty or seventy miles, the English approached an island, and their progress in the larger canoe was effectually obstructed by the shallowness of the stream. Amongst the trees and underwood that grew on this island, and on both banks of the river in its vicinity, large ambuscades of the natives had previously been formed, and shortly after the principal canoe had grounded, its unfortunate crew, busily employed to heave it into deep water, were saluted with irregular but heavy and continued discharges of musketry. So great was Lander's confidence in the sincerity and good will of the natives, that he could not at first believe that the destructive fire, by which he was literally surrounded, was any thing more than a mode of salutation they had adopted in honour of his arrival. But the Kroomen who had leaped into the boat, and who fell wounded by his side, soon convinced him of his mistake, and plainly discovered to him the fearful nature of the peril into which he had fallen so unexpectedly, and the difficulty he would experience in extricating himself from it. Encouraging his comrades with his voice and gestures, Lander prepared to defend himself to the last, and a loud and simultaneous shout from his little party assured him that they shared his feelings, and would follow his example. Meanwhile, several of the savages having come out of their concealment, were brought down by the shots of the English, but Lander whilst stopping to pick up a cartridge from the bottom of the canoe, was struck near the hip by a musket ball. The shock made him stagger, but he did not fall, and he continued cheering on his men. Soon finding, however, his ammunition expended, himself seriously wounded, the courage of his Kroomen beginning to droop, and the firing of his assailants, instead of diminishing become more general than ever, he resolved to attempt getting into the smaller canoe, afloat at a short distance, as the only remaining chance of preserving a single life. For this purpose, abandoning their property, the survivors threw themselves into the stream, and with much difficulty, for the strength of the current was incredibly strong, most of them succeeded in accomplishing their object. No sooner was this observed by the men in ambush, than they started up and rushed out with wild and hideous yells; canoes that had been hidden behind the luxuriant foliage which overhung the river, were in an instant pushed out into the middle of the stream, and pursued the fugitives with surprising velocity; whilst numbers of people, with savage antics and furious gesticulations, ran and danced along the beach, uttering loud and startling cries. The Kroomen maintained on this occasion, the good reputation which their countrymen have deservedly acquired; their lives depended on their energy and skill, and they impelled their slender bark through the water with unrivalled swiftness. The pursuit was kept up for four hours, and poor Lander, without ammunition or any defensive weapon whatever, was exposed to the straggling fire, as well as the insulting mockery of his pursuers. One incident, which occurred in the flight, deserves to be recorded. A white man named T - - , completely overpowered by his fears, refused to fire on the savages, who were within a paddle's length of him, but stood up in the canoe, with a loaded musket in his hand, beseeching them by his gestures to take him prisoner, rather than deprive him of his life.

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