but, on reaching Deptford, the vessel was seized by a custom house officer, brought back, and exchequered. This was a severe blow, but Ledyard was never without a resource: "I shall make the tour of the globe, (says he,) from London eastward, on foot." A subscription was raised by Sir Joseph Banks, Sir James Hall, and others, by which means he got over to Hamburgh, which he reached, he tells us, "in perfect health, and with ten guineas exactly," with which he had to traverse the vast continents of Europe and Asia. His ten guineas, however, were otherwise disposed of His host, at the tavern where he lodged, having informed him that a Major Langhorn, an American officer, and " a very good kind of man, " had left Hamburgh for Copenhagen, "with only one spare shirt, and very few other articles of clothing, Ledyard concluded that the man must necessarily be in distress; and, moreover, that a person in this situation was just suited to be the companion of his travels. The sympathy was irresistible. "I shall fly to him, (says he,) and lay my little all at his feet." Accordingly, though it was the dead of winter, and Copenhagen several hundred miles out of his way, he set out on this charitable expedition. After a tedious journey through Sweden and Finland, he reached the Danish capital, and discovered his countryman, the Major, shut up in his room, where he had been some time detained in captivity for want of money and a clean shirt. Ledyard's countenance glowed with joy as he disbursed the remains of his ten guineas into the palm of this needy adventurer. After staying a fortnight, he propounded to his friend the other grand object of his visit, viz. that the Major should accompany him to St. Petersburgh. The proposition

met with an abrupt refusal. "No," was the reply; "I esteem you, but no man on earth shall travel with me the way I do." This dissolved the intended association; and Ledyard, having parted with his friend and his last shilling, set out alone for the Russian capital. The passage by sea being impracticable, he was obliged to perform a journey of twelve hundred miles, round the Gulf of Bothnia, which, in a direct line, did not exceed fifty. We cannot here follow him in his route from St. Petersburgh across the regions of snow and desolation which he traversed on his way to Okotsk. After many hardships and delays, he reached Irkutsk, where he was apprehended as a French spy, and put under arrest by an order from the Empress. Accompanied by a guard of soldiers, he was conveyed back to the frontiers of Poland, a distance of six thousand versts, in six weeks! "Thank Heaven!" he exclaimed, as he approached the boundaries of civilized Europe, "petticoats appear, and the glimmerings of other features." Here the soldiers set him at liberty, giving him to understand that he might go where he pleased, only if he again returned to the dominions of the Empress, he would certainly be hanged. He contrived, by drawing on his friends, to reach London, where he was introduced to Mr. Beaufoy, Secretary to the African Association. In a short time he set out on a mission of discovery to that ill-fated country; and was among the first that fell a victim to the cause of African Geography. His plan was to proceed up the Nile as far as Senaar, and from thence to strike across the African continent to the coast of the Atlantic. He died, however, at Cairo, of a billious complaint, about the end of November, 1738, in the thirty-eighth year of his age.

THE CURASSOW

Is a bird which bears much resemblance to the pheasant, though naturalists have agreed in considering it as a distinct genus. It comprehends four or five species, with some varieties, but they are all of them foreign birds, and belong only to the warm climates of America. They are mostly about the size of a small turkey, and are generally distinguished by a crest of feathers, which curl at the ends.

This crest can be raised or depressed at will. The plumage of the Crested Curassow is of a deep black, with a slight gloss of green upon the head, crest, neck, back, wings, and upper part of the tail; and dull white beneath, and on the lower tailcoverts.

There is another species which is called the CASHEW CURASSOW, or CASHEW BIRD, from a large blue gibbosity, resembling a cashew nut, and as

large as a pear, which is situated at the base of the forehead. The whole bird is of a shining bluish color, reflecting purple glosses; except the lower part of the belly, the covert feathers, under the tail, and the tips of the tail feathers, which are white.

In Mexico, Guiana, and Brazil, these birds are very numerous, both in a wild and a tame state. The flesh is excellent. We hope ere long to see this fine bird domesticated in the United States.

THE DIAMOND BEETLE.

This Beetle belongs to the weevil tribe, and its scientific denomination is the Imperial Weevil. It inhabits South America, chiefly Brazil, and is the most resplendently colored of all the insect class.

The ground color of the wings is a coal black, with numerous parallel lines of sparkling indentations round, which are of a green gold color, highly brilliant, from minute reflecting scales, like the scales of a butterfly. There is another rich and elegant species of this insect in India; where, however, it is so very scarce, that the wing cases (and sometimes the whole insect), are set like a gem on rings, and worn by the great. The body is of a silky green with broad golden bands. This insect is the Curculio regalis.

FILIAL AFFECTION OF THE MOORS.

A Portuguese surgeon was accosted one day by a young Moor from the country, who, addressing him by the usual appellation of foreign doctors in that place, requested him to give him some drogues to kill his father, and, as an inducement, promised to pay him well. The surgeon was a little surprised at first, as might be expected, and was unable to answer immediately; but quickly recovering himself (for he knew the habits of the people well), replied with sang froid equal to the Moor's, "Then you don't live comfortably with your father, I suppose?" "Oh, nothing can be better," returned the Moor; "he has made much money, has married me well, and endowed me with all his possessions; but he cannot work any longer, he is so old, and he seems unwilling to die." The doctor, of course, appreciated the amiable philosophy of the Moor's reasoning, and promised to give him what he desired. He accordingly prepared a cordial potion, more calculated to restore energy to the old man, than to take it away. The Moor paid him well, and departed. About eight days after he came again, to say that his father was not dead. "Not dead!" exclaimed the apothecary, in well-feigned surprise; "he will die.” He composed accordingly another draught, for which he received an equal remuneration, and assured the Moor that it would not fail in its effects. In fifteen days, however, the Moor came again, complaining that his father thrived better than ever. "Don't be discouraged," said the doctor, who doubtless found these periodical visits by no means unprofitable, "give him another potion, and I will exert all my skill in its preparation.' The Moor took it, but returned no One day the surgeon met his young ac

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