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.  While in the act of making this dastardly appeal, a musket ball from the enemy entered his mouth, and killed him on the spot.  The others behaved with the greatest coolness and intrepidity.  The fugitives gained on their pursuers, and when they found the chase discontinued altogether, Lander stood up for the last time in the canoe, and being seconded by his remaining associates, he waved his hat, and gave a last cheer in sight of his adversaries.  He then became sick and faint from loss of blood, and sank back exhausted in the arms of those who were nearest to him.  Rallying shortly afterwards, the nature of his wound was communicated to him by Mr. Moore, a young surgeon from England, who had accompanied him up the river, and whose conduct throughout this disastrous affray was most admirable.  The ball could not be extracted, and Lander felt convinced his career would soon be terminated.  When the state of excitement to which his feelings had been