"The conduct of the expedition will devolve upon the individual by whom it was procted; who, having long contemplated the enterprise, and having already visited the South frican shores, has possessed ample opportunities of collating information, and estimating e local resources at the point from which it is intended to proceed. He will be associated ith a few efficient colleagues in the different departments of science; and he will thus be ell enabled to carry into effect the chief purposes of the expedition, by becoming exclusively le pioneer of discovery. In addition to the individuals who may depart from England, lose who may probably join the expedition from the Cape of Good Hope, will, from that aracteristic spirit of adventure so frequently resulting from a long residence among the old features of the South African colony, be well constituted to devote themselves to the xploration of an unknown continent. "The native co-operation of interpreters and others, which the expedition will have vailable in the Cape colony, will comprise individuals of various inland tribes, particularly f the Bichuana and Sichuana nations, whose languages are supposed to possess a radical ffinity to many of the other dialects, similar to that known to exist between those of the pposite coasts, Congo and Mozambique,—and to be intelligible through the greater part of outhern Africa. And, as the party proceed, they will endeavour to obtain further assistnce from the different tribes through whose territories they may pass, and from whom they may be able to procure guides and interpreters for places in advance, whose presence, in nany other respects, would greatly facilitate their further progress. There is, perhaps, ut little doubt that, accompanied from the first by a select number of trusty and intelligent atives, the whole interior of this large Southern continent may be readily and safely raversed. "The means required to carry this expedition into effect, will not, it is trusted, be found vanting at the hands of the British public. The success of the efforts which will be made o obtain the necessary resources must, in a great degree, depend upon the importance and nterest of the objects proposed; and, unless these have been greatly over-rated, it is conidently anticipated that not only will individual support be largely afforded, but that the various scientific and philanthropic societies will contribute liberally towards an undertaking which, if successful, will enlarge the bounds of science, and facilitate the progress of civilization. Should the individual contributions be comparatively small, the committee nevertheless hope that the combined assistance of numbers will enable the expedition to be organized upon such a scale as may ensure its efficiency and success. It is obvious, however, that, in this respect, it must be entirely regulated by the amount of funds at their disposal. But, although the completeness of the plans must depend upon the assistance of the public, it is not intended that any unexpected deficiency shall prevent the expedition from proceeding. The projector and his colleagues are determined that, how small soever may be the scale upon which they may be compelled to make their preparations, they will still proceed, trusting to increased energy to compensate for smaller means. They will not, however, dwell upon the possibility of such a result, as they implicitly trust to the known sympathy of the public mind with objects of this character. For, notwithstanding the discouraging circumstances under which African discovery has ever been prosecuted, there is, perhaps, little ground for apprehending any decline of that zeal which has hitherto actuated an enlightened government and an enterprising public, to second the efforts of English adventurers, in their frequent attempts to extend our knowledge of a country in which, more than in any other part of the globe, the progress of the traveller would abound with event and interest. And surely it cannot fail to afford a pleasing reflection to every contributor, while the party are traversing the almost boundless plains of Africa, that he has done something towards the investigation of the earth he inhabits; and, above all, towards extending the hand of recompense to the unknown, yet deeply injured tribes of this unfortunate country, for the former wrongs they have received at our hands. "The dangers to be incurred will, it may be rationally hoped, under studied plans of precaution grounded on the experience of others, be few in comparison with those which there might be cause to apprehend from the results of former African expeditions, and which, in each case, have demonstrated the deplorable consequences of too little regard for precautionary measures. Travellers, justly celebrated both for enterprise and intrepidity, might be adduced, whose fate has afforded a melancholy illustration of this fact. "Precautionary measures, therefore, most rigidly regarded, shall, it is determined, next to a pervading trust in Divine power, constitute the chief characteristic to ensure the safety of the present expedition. Unlike all former African expeditions, it will be a grand object to render it, as nearly as possible, independent of the African native for its supplies; an independence which is at once the greatest safeguard in travelling through his country, and the only key to its interior. By thus having resources within itself, available in any case of exigency, it will be enabled to avoid the necessity, which in previous cases has proved so fatal, of endangering the party by too sudden an appearance before unknown and hostile tribes; nor will it be needful to harass them by pushing on from destination to destination in search of provisions, or to linger in unhealthy parts in the uncertainty of finding food in advance, but they will be enabled to bivouack in safety, and locate, here and the ta chosen spots whose situation might denote their salubrity. And, with regard to climer z general, while no artificial means will be left behind which may be known to posies: tendency to counteract its fatality, they will, on the score of prevention, especially bera mind the rule which should be an axiom with the tropical traveller, that the most unbeata climes may be traversed in certain seasons with almost perfect safety. And while da expedition, in its intercourse with the natives, will be invariably actuated by a spirit a conciliation, it will, on the other hand, be so organized as to enable it to exhibit a re show of force whenever emergency may demand. Indeed, every forethought has be exerted, to anticipate and provide against both difficulties and dangers :-yet the pract adventurers are far from admitting the principle, that in human agency there is safety; in they are more powerfully impressed by the sentiment, that human aid will avail them i little, if unprotected by that Being, who can vouchsafe support and protection in the deer as well as in the city; and from whom alone success and its attendant advantages can b expected as the results of an undertaking otherwise too great for human energies a accomplish. "In fine, this expedition, if successful, will realize important ends in the view boch d the philosopher and the politician;-will open a hitherto untrodden field for the exertion of science, commerce, and philanthropy;-will determine the features of a country for a enveloped in the deepest obscurity, and the character and habits of those varieties of te human species by whom it is peopled, and will prepare the way, in a great degree, for t introduction of civilization and Christianity. And, since the exploration of the earth in these purposes is one of the noblest occupations to which the human faculties can le directed, it is but a rational conviction, that to such an undertaking, prosecuted unde full and confiding trust in a Divine and Provident power, would certainly be vouchsafed the approving protection of the omnipresent Author of all." T ON THE CULTIVATION OF POETRY AT THE It is not my intention in the present essay The commencement of the nineteenth century presented to the poetic admirer prospects the most cheering. The youthful energies of Scott, Campbell, Moore, and Wordsworth had burst forth, each in his own style bidding fair to excel all competitors:-"The Lay of the Last Minstrel," which revived all the romantic charms of chivalry and border ballad-"The Pleasures of Hope," that charming, fanciful, hope-inspiring poem-"The Odes of Anacreon," which displayed the genius of one immortal bard, attended and adorned by a kindred spirit; these and similar productions were the theme of the day, and secured to their respective authors the bays of poetical fame. These, however, were obliged to give way to the productions of a brighter genius, whose poetic soul, combining the spirit of poetry with versatility of talent, shone forth the brightest star in the poeti cal hemisphere. Need I mention “Chikk Harold," to awaken the recollection of a new era of poetry? The succeeding poems of Scott-" Marmion," "The Lady of the Lake," "Rokeby," &c.-afforded ampl proof of the genius of the author, and the taste of the public. Moore's "Lab Rookh," "Loves of the Angels," &c. and the "Last Man" of Campbell, besides the beautiful productions of Crabbe, Rogers, Wordsworth, Southey, &c., placed Eng poetry high in the scale of excellence. Still, however, the genius of Byron stood aloof-alone in his glory-absorbing all attention, and drawing in his train berless imitators. The death of this extraordinary ges threw a cloud over the territory of the Muses, which apparently envelopes it st Scott had already hung his harp on the willows, and given his powers greater scope in the production of those novels what constitute his greatest efforts. While these left behind seemed to rest content with the laurels they had won. Not that we we without poets. No, we had plenty, springing up daily, and on all sides. Albums, ma gazines, periodicals, &c. teemed with gross imitations of Byron. Oh! what a display of conceit, ignorance, and folly were the fruits of this poetical mania! That false egotism, the principal fault of Byron's productions, but which, clothed in bas language, and associated with the events of life, attracted a powerful interest, was, hose imitators, so disgusting and nauis, that it required the lash of the critic be used with unsparing severity. 'he question, therefore, naturally arises, nce the causes of the dearth of talent the poetic world? Before, however, endeavour to trace the cause of this line, let us take a glance at the protions of those who have stood foremost poetic talent since the days of Byron. w and far between have been the merits of poem that will outlive the present geneon, and secure to its author posthumous e; of those few we may mention the rks of the poet Montgomery, the Ettrick pherd, L. E. L., and the author of Corn-Law Rhymes:" these, in their pective productions, are undoubtedly first of those poets whose works still clare the muses have not forsaken the d. They have not endeavoured to itate Byron, and consequently have not len into his errors. Sacred subjects: loftiest presented to the mind of manve formed the ground work whereon : poet Montgomery has employed his cy: how far he has succeeded in ating Miltonic subjects in a Miltonic yle, it is unnecessary to discuss, but, from eir favourable reception, we may augur sign favourable to the religious taste of e nation. Nor have the simple, homely, id sweetly-worded songs of Caledonia inished with her favourite bard; the true ver of poetry may often trace the spirit E Burns in the poems of Hogg. Nor ust I forget to mention with praise liss Landon; indeed, gallantry and ourtesy demands it: without attributing her the desire of attempting every style f literature, she has embraced, and suceeded in, a great variety of subjects. Every annual, and almost every periodical, ears witness to her industry and taste. at once the accomplished novelist, poet, ong-composer, tale-teller, and Christian wrist, she possesses strength of genius ery rare in her sex, and variety of alent the most admirable. Of Ebenezer Elliott, who, sprung from the homely earths of the humble by the strength f his genius into notice, without the id of education and patronage, it is nly necessary to observe, that from what as already appeared from his pen, he bids fair to rank high in poetic fame, n the bold, open, and daring fancies so necessary in the treatment of subjects Of politics and common life. That poetry is, to use a vulgar phrase, "quite out of fashion," is evident; though we are now and then treated with a translation from a duke, an ode from a marquis, or a sonnet from an earl, by way of extending their patronage to the muses! I do not wish these remarks to be conveyed as an aspersion on those elegant publications the annuals; far from it. I often feel delighted, in perusing them, at finding the productions of many old favourites, such as Bernard Barton, Allan Cunningham, Mrs. Hemans, Mary Howitt, &c., and consider them as a decided improvement, forming the vehicles of much useful and interesting mat. ter. Notwithstanding, the reader will acknowledge that there is a too pompous display of aristocratic contributions in some of them; not but that the nobility ought to be scholars, and may be men of genius, as, in the first place, they have the sure means of acquiring knowledge, and, in the latter, the chance of being gifted with extraordinary talent. At the same time, we hope that these productions, often inserted on account of their rank and station, and to please their friends, will never be held up as a specimen of the English poetry of the day. If we glance at the literary notices of the present period, we may form a tolerable idea of the prevailing taste. Amid the numerous volumes that issue on political economy, the "last new" novels, and theological works, we now and then meet with " a poem, by -;" &c. In one or two periodicals a trifling notice is taken, and no more is heard. Our magazines will scarcely devote a page to the muses; and the youthful poet, whose genius might, in other days, have floated on the full tide of popularity, "Is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness in the desert air." Still, among these productions, many display beauty of style and strength of thought, that justly entitle their authors to honourable notice. We will now briefly consider the causes of this decline. Nothing is so fluctuating as public opinion; no patronage so generous as its praises, no criticism so severe as its censures. Still it is the most powerful and just bar where our productions can receive judgment; for though it may tolerate inferior works for a time, it ever rewards and admires those of merit and ability. Public taste therefore, having deserted the muses, the coy maids are left without admirers, and have taken the veil in despair; or, difficult to please, they find none among earth-born mortals on whom to bestow their heavenly gifts. One of the causes consists in the insult offered to the celestial Nine by those conceited coxcombs, who, conceiving that by copying the dress they could personify the man, provoked those gentle dames by imitations of their favourite. The rage for novel-reading, and the talent displayed in those productions, has turned the taste for the present. The advancement of mechanical science, and the pecuniary advantages resulting therefrom, have also assisted in turning the minds of men of talent from the more enchanting graces of poetry. But the grand cause consists in the interest taken in political questions, which lately have so much absorbed the attention of all classes. How opposite these dispositions! The one seeks the solitudes of nature, and the peaceful scenes of private life, the other flies to the senate, to the field, or to commercial enterprise, and courts the applause of a busy, stirring world. Thus deprived of encouragement, the minstrel of song and chivalry hangs his harp on the willows, and mourns the Augustan era of English poetry, when Milton, Pope, Dryden, and Prior poured forth their song; or of a later period, when Thomson, Cowper, Gray, Goldsmith, &c., followed in their train. To the man of pleasure, whose sole object is the pursuit of sensual enjoyment, poetry has no charms, save that which panders to his depraved appetite: he may, with the glass in his hand, sing the amorous or bachanalian song, and thus pay a tribute to the muses; but he has no taste for pure sentiment, no interest in the fate of an art, whose chief aim should be to render pleasure the blessing of life, instead of making us its slaves. If the fate of poetry, left in the hands of the man of pleasure, will surely be neglected, what must it expect at the hands of the selfish, avaricious being, whose love of wealth stints the growth of those nobler faculties which adorn the mind, and renders him incapable of feeling those aspirations of fancy, which almost prove the immortality of our destination? The practical student of those sciences which call more for the exercise of the judgment than appeal to the imagination, will naturally feel averse to promote the interests of an art of so opposite a tendency to those he studies; and looks more to the practical utility of a steam-engine than to the culture of those graces which fix the inte rest of the poet. Who is it, then, to whom this subject is interesting? I answer, to those who feel as they read the beauties of the great poets; whose minds are borne along with that of their author; and whe can with judgment cull the flowers from the weeds that would usurp their placel To such I would say, Be not discou raged; poetry is not a thing of yesterday neither is its duration limited till to-mor row's setting sun. Some unborn child genius may yet awake the slumbering muses, and astonish and delight the word with his productions; for one star sets but that another may rise. In conclusion, I would say to the youth ful poet, that if he wishes to mount the ladder of fame in the present day, he must not waste his time in mere ephemeral productions. He must not join in the rage for pretly ballad writing, of "black eyes and red roses,"-of "where we met," and "where we parted; this is a hack neyed path. Neither must he indulge in writing "odes on Canary birds,” or “lines on infants;" the public has long ago sickened of these wretched substitutes for poetry. Such verses, reserve for your scrap book. Your love ditties above all, keep private, however well worded, unless your amour is one of romance and interest. But study that style which accords with the spirit of the ages I allude to moral and political subjects Truth in her simple garb, virtue and vice in their proper colours, and Nature as she presents herself to the eye, must, with the aid of a powerful fancy, be faithfully por trayed in the poem, whatever may be the subject. It is an erroneous idea that the powers of poetry are exhausted; as well might we conclude that the genius of inven tion has attained the accomplishment of every novelty. History, both sacred and profane, offers incidents still without illustration in verse-the romance of human life still hovers o'er our paths—and Nature with her bountiful productions is still unexhausted. Then let us hope that this apparent dearth of talent and taste in the poetic world may lead to still higher efforts, and an improved taste in this department keep pace with the rapid advance of all other branches of literature. The revival of the ancient glory of British poetry will then be hailed as the happiest omen of a general intellectual renovation and advance. E ACCOUNT OF JOHN HENDERSON, B. A. ›RMERLY OF PEMBROKE COLLEGE, oxford. he biographical sketches that have been n of Mrs. Hannah More, mention is le of Mr. John Henderson, an extraorry young man, who was honoured with lady's friendship, and distinguished by that of Dr. Johnson. No partiirs, however, of this person, are related: does it appear that any detail of his ory has ever been published. To supthe deficiency, in some measure, is the ect of the present communication, which nes from a friend of John Henderson, one who, with him, enjoyed the acintance of Hannah More. John Henderson was born on the 27th March, 1757, at Ballegarane, near Lirick, in Ireland. His father was a traling preacher in Mr. Wesley's connexion, soon after the birth of this his only ld, he returned to England, and opened oarding-school at Hanham, in Gloucesshire, about four miles from Bristol. re the intellectual powers of John began develop themselves in his infancy, to a gree that excited general astonishment. might be said that he was born a thinkz being; and what was most remarkable, ile yet in arms he was never known to y, or manifest any restless impatience for e attainment of those things which are e usual objects of infantine desire. A spirit intelligence distinguished him in the earest period of his childhood : and the quesons he asked, as soon as he was able to eak, were sometimes such, that those who eard him knew not how to answer: so that seemed as if he had come into the world ther to instruct others, than to be taught mself. As Mr. Henderson's school was the ordinary description, and professed thing higher than writing and the eleents of mathematical learning, John Henerson was sent to Mr. Wesley's establishent, at Kingswood. Here his progress as so rapid, that, before he had reached is tenth year, he was found qualified to ssist the masters, some of whom were ank enough to confess, that, boy as he was, is knowledge surpassed what they could oast. About this time a circumstance ccurred which made a great noise, and ccasioned much controversy. In order to procure a succession of serious candidates Or the ministry in the established church, eCountess of Huntingdon and her riends formed the plan of educating oung men properly disposed, and then ending them to the University. Accordingly, six students, after going through a course of preparatory instruction, were entered at Edmund Hall, Oxford, with a view to graduation, and admission into holy orders. The conduct of the young men was irreproachable, but they were marked objects, and occasion was soon found to furnish a pretext for their expulsion from the University. Upon this, the countess entered into an agreement with Mr. Howell Harris, one of Mr. Whitefield's earliest disciples, and a preacher himself, for the purchase of his house at Trevecca, in South Wales, and the appropriation of it to the purposes of instruction. That eminently accomplished and most exemplary man, Mr. John Fletcher, though a foreigner, was pitched upon to preside over this seminary; and thither he went, accompanied by John Henderson, as the prelector in Greek, at the age of twelve years. This will not astonish the reader who knows what Grotius and Pascal did at a 'similar age, and that the learned Wotton entered the University of Cambridge before he was ten, and took his degree at fourteen. The institution at Trevecca, indeed, though pompously called a college, was of a very inferior character, and hardly deserving the name even of a classical school; since the object of it extended no farther than the initiation of young men into the rudiments of the Latin and Greek languages, so as to enable them to pass the simple examination for orders, which was but too common at that time, especially in the principality of Wales. This, however, does not render the circumstance here related of John Henderson's precocious talent for teaching, the less extraordinary; but rather the contrary, considering the difficulty of imparting the principles of grammatical learning to minds not duly prepared by a train of discipline while in a state of flexibility. The But the history of this period is short: for though the institution at Trevecca was professedly founded on evangelical principles, it soon became the seat of discord. inmates, instead of going through the probationary trial of silence, required in the school of Pythagoras, and still rigidly practised in the Chartreuse, applied themselves to studies ill adapted to promote friendship and edification, inter sylvas Academi. By the introduction of the Calvinistic creed as the basis of instruction in this seminary, the groves of Trevecca exhibited sounds so little resembling the harmony of the spheres, that they were only worthy of the school where we are told, the students, in their retirement, engaged in disputations upon questions that never could be solved, |