Bruce returns to Europe.—Visits Paris—Italy.—Returns to England.—Quarrels with the Writers of the Day.—Retires to Scotland.—Marries.—At last publishes his Travels.—The Incredulity of the Credulous.—Bruce's Disappointment—Sorrow—Death.

But, although "home is home, though ever so homely," there is, perhaps, no idea in the human mind more indefinite than that which circumscribes the precise limits of our "home;" for, like the pupil of the eye, it dilates and contracts according to circumstances.

The European who has long sojourned under the constellations of the southern hemisphere, feels that he is "at home" when, from the neighbourhood of the Line, he first sees his old friend, the north star, rising above the horizon. To this man, home is for a moment the hemisphere in which he was born. Our own country, our own county, our own town, parish, house, room, are homes of different dimensions; and, regardless of all these, the sailor-boy has often felt that he was not really "at home" till he once more found himself in his mother's arms.

Bruce considered himself "at home" as soon as he landed at Marseilles; and we have deemed the foregoing observations necessary to account for the time which will yet elapse before he actually revisits his native land.

The Comte de Buffon, M. Guys, and many others who had taken particular interest in his travels, came to congratulate him on his return, and to listen to his adventures and discoveries. From their honourable friendship and in their liberal society Bruce for a short time enjoyed that refined intellectual happiness which is only known in civilized life. His health, however, was much impaired, and for five-and-thirty days he suffered very great agony from a worm, called faranteit, which had bedded itself in his leg below the knee. This worm is supposed by the Arabs to afflict those who have been in the habit of drinking stagnant water; and their mode of extracting it is by seizing it gently by the head, and then gradually winding it round a feather. Bruce had tried this plan; but, from the unskilfulness of his attendant, the worm was broken, and such severe inflammation ensued that the surgeon advised him to submit to amputation; "but," says Bruce, "to limp through the remains of life, after having escaped so many dangers, was hard; so much so, that the loss of life itself seemed more desirable." The inflammation, however, was at last reduced, though it did not entirely terminate for nearly a year after his arrival in Europe; and, as soon as his health was sufficiently restored, he set out for Paris, accompanied by the Comte de Buffon.

The reception he met with in that metropolis was exceedingly flattering. His travels became the subject of general conversation, and his company was courted by people of learning and rank.

As an acknowledgment of the favours which he had received from the French nation during the early part of his travels, Bruce presented to the Royal Library a copy of the Prophecies of Enoch, a literary curiosity of great value. He also sent to the king's garden at Paris some of the seeds of rare plants which he had collected in Abyssinia.

In July he left Paris for Italy. He was desirous to try the baths of Poretta; and, although he was naturally anxious to revisit Scotland, his native country, he had a still stronger inclination to complete his drawings of Africa, for which he required leisure, with the advice and assistance of professional men. He had also another reason, which, however absurd and unjustifiable, made him obstinately determine, against the advice of all his friends, to proceed to Italy. Before Bruce was consul at Algiers, he had fallen in love with a Scottish lady, to whom he had engaged himself by a promise of marriage. On the banks of the Nile, on the waters of the Red Sea, among the mountains of Abyssinia, and in the burning desert of Nubia, Bruce's heart had remained faithful to his engagement—the charming vision was constantly before him. At the "hillock of green sod" the reader will remember how he insisted that Strates should drink to the health of Maria! and he had at last hasted homeward, hoping to have all his delightful anticipations realized. But, on his arrival at Marseilles, he found that the lady had so far forgotten him, that she was at Rome, very comfortably married to the Marchese d'Accoramboni.

Sorely disappointed, his feelings highly irritated, his leg still inflamed from the farenteit, gaunt, weather-beaten, sunburnt, and in stature six feet four inches, good English measure, Bruce suddenly appeared at Rome before Filippo Accoramboni, to demand that he should apologize in writing for having married a lady who had been engaged to him. The Italian marquis, seeing no good reason for fighting with such a man, politely assured him he would not have married the lady had he known she was engaged to him; but Bruce most unreasonably insisted that this declaration should be expressed in writing, which the marquis very properly declined, upon which Bruce instantly sent him the following letter:

Mr. Bruce to Signor Accoramboni.

"Sir,—Not my heart, but the entreaties of my friends, made me offer you the alternative by the AbbÉ Grant. It was not for such satisfaction that, sick and covered with wounds, I have traversed so much land and sea to find you.

"An innocent man, employed in the service of my country, without any provocation or injury from me, you have deprived me of my honour, by violating all the most sacred rights before God and man; and you now refuse to commit to writing what you willingly confess in words. A man of honour and innocence, marquis, knows no such shifts as these; and it will be well for one of us to-day, if you had been as scrupulous in doing an injury as you are in repairing it.

"I am at least your equal, marquis; and God alone can do me justice for the injury which you have done me. Full of innocence, and with a clear conscience, I commit my revenge to Him; and I now draw my sword against you with that confidence with which the reflection of having done my duty, and the sense of the injustice and violence which I have suffered from you, without any reason, inspire me.

"At half past nine (French reckoning) I come in my carriage to your gate; if my carriage does not please you, let your own be ready. Let us go together to determine which of the two is the most easy, to offer an affront to an absent man, or to maintain it in his presence.

"I have the honour to be your humble servant,

"James Bruce."

This sort of epistle came upon the marchese like the simoom. It was impossible to stand against it; and there was nothing left for him but to prostrate himself to the earth, as Bruce had done in the desert. He therefore made the following reply:

Sign. Accoramboni to Mr. Bruce.

"Sir—When the marriage with Miss M., at present my wife, was contracted, it was never mentioned to me that there was a previous promise made to you, otherwise that connexion should not have taken place.

"With respect to yourself, on my honour, I have never spoken of you in any manner, your person not having been known to me. If, therefore, I can serve you, command me. With the profoundest respect, I sign myself,

"Your most humble and obliged servant,

"Filippo Accoramboni.

"Al. Sig. Cavaliere Janne Bruce."

This silly affair being concluded, Bruce remained for some months at Rome. From the nobility, as well as his countrymen who were there, he received marks of very particular attention; and Pope Clement XIV., the celebrated Ganganelli, presented him with a series of gold medals, relating to the different transactions of his pontificate. In the spring of 1774 Bruce returned to France, where he resided till the middle of June, when he left Paris, and very shortly afterward arrived in England, after an absence of twelve years. The public was naturally impatient to hear his adventures, and all people of distinction and learning appeared desirous to seek his acquaintance. He was introduced at court, and graciously received by his majesty George III., who was pleased not only to accept his drawings[38] of Baalbec, Palmyra, and the African cities, but to express his high approbation of the very great exertions which he had made to extend the boundaries of geographical knowledge.

"When I first came home," says Bruce, "it was with great pleasure I gratified the curiosity of the whole world by showing them each what they fancied most curious. I thought this was an office of humanity to young people and to those of slender fortunes, or those who, from other causes, had no opportunity of travelling. I made it a particular duty to attend and explain to men of knowledge and learning, that were foreigners, everything that was worth the time they bestowed upon considering the different articles that were new to them, and this I did at length to the Count de Buffon, and Mons. Gueneau de Montbeliard, and the very amiable and accomplished Madame d'Aubenton. I cannot say by whose industry, but it was in consequence of this friendly communication, a list or inventory (for they could give no more) of all my birds and beasts was published before I was well got to England."

Frank and open in society, Bruce, in describing his adventures, generally related those circumstances which he thought were most likely to amuse people by the contrast they afforded to the European fashions, customs, and follies of the day.

Conscious of his own integrity, and not suspecting that, in a civilized country, the statements of a man of honour would be disbelieved, he did not think it necessary gradually and cautiously to prepare his hearers for a climate and scenery altogether different from their own, but he at once landed them in Abyssinia, and suddenly showed them a vivid picture to which he himself had been long accustomed. They had asked for novelty, and, in complying with their request, he gave them good measure, and told them of people who wore rings in their lips instead of their ears; who anointed themselves, not with bear's grease or pomatum, but with the blood of cows; who, instead of playing tunes upon them, wore the entrails of animals as ornaments; and who, instead of eating hot, putrid meat, licked their lips over bleeding, living flesh. He described debauchery dreadfully disgusting, because it was so different from their own. He told them of men who hunted each other; of mothers who had not seen ten winters; and he described crowds of human beings and huge animals retreating in terror before an army of little flies! In short, he told them the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

At that time (to say nothing about the present day) the English public indolently allowed itself, with regard to particular regions of the earth, to be led and misled by a party of individuals, who dogmatically dictated what idle theory was to be believed, and what solid information was to be rejected. These brazen images Bruce refused to worship. In their presence he maintained his statements, and they frowned upon him with pompous incredulity. With just indignation, he sneered at their impertinence and folly; but they knew their power, and they deliberately banded together to run him down.

"There has not," says Dr. Clarke (who travelled in three quarters of the globe, and who at Cairo had an opportunity of corroborating Bruce's statements), "there has not been an example in the annals of literature of more unfair and disgraceful hostility than that which an intolerant and invidious party too successfully levelled during a considerable time against the writings of Bruce."

"I will venture to assert," says Belzoni, "that the only reason why such doubts could have been started respecting his (Bruce's) work, was the spirit of contradiction excited by the illiberality of travellers, and those who were no travellers: the former, because they had not power to resist jealousy, which, in spite of all their efforts to conceal it, shows itself through the veil of their pretended liberality and impartiality; and the latter, because they are unable to control their bad propensity to dispute and condemn everything they have no knowledge of."[39]

"It was the misfortune of that traveller (Bruce), who is now no more," says Dr. Russel, in his history of Aleppo, "to have known that his veracity had too often captiously, and sometimes capriciously, been called in question, owing, besides the nature of his adventures, partly, I believe, to a certain manner in conversing as well as in writing, which alienated many who were less than himself disposed to take offence. He is now beyond the reach of flattery or humiliation; and I trust it will not be imputed merely to the partiality of friendship, if, as a small but just tribute to his memory, I repeat here what I have often before asserted in occasional conversation, that, however I might regret a constitutional irritability of temper so injurious to its owner, or however I might wish to have seen him, at times, condescend to explanations which I have reason to think would have removed prejudices, I never, either in course of our acquaintance or in the perusal of his book, found myself disposed to suspect him of any intentional deviation from the truth" (p. 423).

As soon as Bruce found that in England public opinion was against him, in sullen indignation he determined to retire into his own country; for, although all ranks of people were amused with his adventures, yet, as soon as he perceived that they doubted his facts, his mind was too just and his spirit too proud to accept a smile as an atonement for a barbarous prejudice and an unjustifiable insult. Determined in no way to compromise his honour, he felt that he had better quit England, and that, under the storm which assailed him, there was "no place like home!"

In the autumn he accordingly went to the capital of Scotland, where he was received with that affectionate attention and regard which we must admit the Scotch to have been always ready to pay to any one among them who has reflected credit and honour upon their country.

From Edinburgh he proceeded to Kinnaird, where he rebuilt his house, and for some time occupied himself in arranging his estate, which, during his long absence, had not only fallen into disorder, but had become involved in legal difficulties.

For more than a year and a half he was thus employed, enjoying the bustle and arrangements which served to divert his mind from the subject which most naturally and severely oppressed it.

On the 20th of March, 1776, he married Mary Dundas, daughter of Thomas Dundas, Esq., of Fingask, and of Lady Janet Maitland, daughter of the Earl of Lauderdale. This amiable and accomplished person was much younger than Bruce; and it is rather a singular coincidence, that she was born the same year in which his first wife had died.

For some time after his return to Scotland Bruce kept up a correspondence with his friends in France, but after his marriage he had little intercourse with literary people.

In the shooting season he generally spent some time at a place called Ardwhillery, in the Highlands, and there, as well as at Kinnaird, he amused himself by translating the Prophecies of Enoch from the Abyssinian. He also made a slow progress in transcribing and arranging his journals; but, happy in his own domestic circle, and conscious that he had been a faithful servant to his country, he seemed to prefer repose to the vexation of laying his travels before the public.

Always fond of astronomy, from which he had derived so much practical advantage, he erected, on the top of his house at Kinnaird, a temporary observatory; and, dressed in Abyssinian costume, wearing even the turban, he occasionally enjoyed very natural and delightful reflections in gazing, from a tranquil and civilized country, upon constellations in the heavens, which he had so often watched in moments of danger and privation; but a man's notions seldom fit his neighbours; and, "Eh! the laird's gaen daft!" was the opinion which the country people of Kinnaird secretly expressed among themselves at Bruce's astronomical operations.

After having enjoyed nearly twelve years of quiet domestic happiness, Bruce lost his wife. She died in 1785, leaving him two children, a son and daughter. Thus deprived of his best friend and companion, he again became restless and melancholy. "The love of solitude," he very justly says, "is the constant follower of affliction. This again naturally turns an instructed mind to study." These feelings Bruce's friends strongly encouraged, and they used every endeavour to rouse him from his melancholy, and to persuade him to occupy his mind in the arrangement and publication of his travels.

"My friends unanimously assailed me," he says, "in the part most accessible when the spirits are weak, which is vanity. They represented to me how ignoble it was, after all my dangers and difficulties, to be conquered by a misfortune incident to all men, the indulgence of which was unreasonable in itself, fruitless in its consequence, and so unlike the expectation I had given my country by the firmness and intrepidity of my former character and behaviour.

"Others, whom I mention only for the sake of comparison, below all notice on any other account, attempted to succeed in the same design by anonymous letters and paragraphs in the newspapers; and thereby absurdly endeavoured to oblige me to publish an account of those travels, which they affected, at the same time, to believe I had never performed."

"It is universally known," states the Gentleman's Magazine for 1789, "that doubts have been entertained whether Mr. Bruce was ever in Abyssinia. The Baron de Tott, speaking of the sources of the Nile, says, 'A traveller named Bruce, it is said, has pretended to have discovered them. I saw at Cairo the servant who was his guide and companion during the journey, who assured me that he had no knowledge of any such discovery.'"

To the persuasions of his friends Bruce at last yielded, and, as soon as he resolved to undertake the task, he performed it with his usual energy and application. In about three years he submitted the work, nearly finished, to his very constant and sincere friend, the Hon. Daines Barrington. In the mean while, his enemies triumphantly maintained a clamour against him, and in his study he was assailed by the most virulent accusations of exaggeration and falsehood; and all descriptions of people were against him, from the moralist of the day down to the witty Peter Pindar.

In the Gentleman's Magazine for 1789, it is stated that Johnson had declared to Sir John Hawkins, "that when he first conversed with Mr. Bruce, the Abyssinian traveller, he was very much inclined to believe that he had been there, but that he had afterward altered his opinion!"

Peter Pindar amused all people (except Bruce) by his satirical flings, one of which was,

In the year 1790, seventeen years after his return to Europe, Bruce's work was printed and laid before the public. It consisted of five large quarto volumes, and was entitled, "Travels to discover the Sources of the Nile, in the years 1768, 1769, 1770, 1771, 1772, and 1773, by James Bruce of Kinnaird, Esq., F.R.S."

The work was dedicated to the king; and in his preface Bruce frankly explains the reasons which had delayed for so many years the publication of his travels, and admits that "an undeserved and unexpected neglect and want of patronage had been at least part of the cause. But," he continues, "it is with great pleasure and readiness I now declare that no fantastical nor deformed motive, no peevish disregard, much less contempt, of the judgment of the world, had any part in the delay which has happened to this publication. The candid and instructed public, the impartial and unprejudiced foreigner, are tribunals merit should naturally appeal to; there it always has found sure protection against the influence of cabals, and the virulent strokes of envy, malice, and ignorance."

He concludes his preface with the following noble words:

"I have only to add, that were it probable, as in my decayed state of health it is not, that I should live to see a second edition of this work, all well-founded, judicious remarks suggested should be gratefully and carefully attended to; but I do solemnly declare to the public in general that I never will refute or answer any cavils, captious or idle objections, such as every new publication seems unavoidably to give birth to, nor ever reply to those witticisms and criticisms that appear in newspapers and periodical writings. What I have written I have written. My readers have before them, in the present volumes, all that I shall ever say, directly or indirectly, upon the subject; and I do, without one moment's anxiety, trust my defence to an impartial, well-informed, and judicious public."

Now, had the public thus addressed been really "impartial, well-informed, and judicious," what a favourable impression would it have formed of a work appearing under circumstances which so peculiarly entitled it to belief! The author was not only of good family, but a man evidently proud of the same, and therefore not likely wilfully to disgrace it. He had received a liberal education, inherited an independent fortune, and for a number of years had deliberately prepared himself for the travels he had performed. He had not hastily passed through the countries which he described, but remained in them for six years. His descriptions were not of that trifling personal nature which in a short time it might be difficult to confirm or confute, but, with mathematical instruments in his hands, he professed to have determined the latitudes and longitudes of every place of importance that he visited, thus offering to men of science of all future ages data whereby to condemn him if he was inaccurate; while these data were of a description not to afford the slightest pleasure or amusement to the general reader. The work was not a hasty production; on the contrary, it appeared seventeen years after the travels it described had been concluded; and, finally, it was the production of an old man, who in fact, and in his own just opinion, had but a very few years to live; whose constitution had been worn out by the climates which he described, and whose fortune had been seriously impaired by his protracted absence.

But his enemies, with pen in hand, like Shylock whetting his knife, impatiently were waiting for his book; and it no sooner appeared than Bruce was deprived of what was nearest his heart—his honour and his reputation.

It was useless to stand against the storm which assailed him. His volumes were universally disbelieved; and yet it may be most confidently stated, that they do not contain a single statement which, according to our present knowledge of the world, can even be termed improbable.

Nevertheless, in attentively reading the latest edition of Bruce's Travels, it must be evident to every one that, in point of composition, the work has very great faults. Bruce had an immense quantity of information to give, but he wanted skill to impart it as it deserved; and certainly nothing can be worse than the arrangement of his materials. He hardly starts with his narrative before we have him talking quite familiarly of people and places known only to himself; and, although perfectly at ease and at home, he forgets that his reader is an utter stranger in the land.

He seems, likewise, never to have reflected that the generality of mankind were not as fond as himself of seeking to trace a dark speculative question to its source. His theories, which, whether right or wrong, are certainly ingenious, constantly break the thread of his narrative; and, like his minute history of all the kings of Abyssinia supposed to have reigned from the time of Solomon to this day, they wear out the patience of the reader. Yet these were evidently very favourite parts of his volumes; and, eager in detailing evidence and arguments which he conceived to be of great importance, he occasionally neglected his narrative, confused his facts and dates, and from his notes being made on separate slips of paper, he fell into several careless mistakes. His dates also are occasionally wrong; but in his notes which he brought to England, they are often inserted in so trembling a hand, that it is but too evident they were written on a bed of sickness. Besides, it must be evident to every one, that, when a man visits such immense countries as Bruce travelled over, his great difficulty is to attend to details. No man can attempt to conduct a trigonometrical survey, and to fill it up at the same time: if he has to determine the grand features of the country, it is impossible that he should be very attentive to minute parts; and if he be particular in his details, he can look but little to the general character of the regions he describes.

But Bruce was disbelieved in toto; and it was even proclaimed that he had never been in Abyssinia at all! Dr. Clarke says: "Soon after the publication of his Travels to discover the sources of the Nile, several copies of the work were sold in Dublin as waste paper, in consequence of the calumnies circulated against the author's veracity."

Nothing could be more dignified than his behaviour under such cruel treatment. He treated his country with the silent contempt which it deserved, disdaining to make any reply to publications impeaching his veracity; and when his friends earnestly entreated him to alter, modify, and explain the accounts which he had given, he firmly replied, in the words of his preface, "What I have written I have written!"

To his daughter, his favourite child, he alone opened his heart. Although scarcely twelve years of age when he published his Travels, she was his constant companion; and he used to teach her the proper mode of pronouncing the Abyssinian words, "that he might leave," as he observed, "some one behind him who could pronounce them correctly." He repeatedly said to her, with feelings highly excited, "I shall not live to see it, but you probably will, and you will then see the truth of all I have written thoroughly confirmed." In this expectation, however, it may here be observed, Bruce was deceived.

This daughter, who afterward married John Jardine, Esq., an advocate in Edinburgh, never lived to see justice done to the memory of her beloved parent. When Dr. Clarke's examination of the Abyssinian dean strongly corroborated some of Bruce's statements, Mrs. Jardine, who was then ill in bed, sketched with her pencil a short account of this confirmation, so happily expressed that it appeared in the Scots' Magazine for December, 1819, with scarcely the alteration of a word. To the last hour of her life she was devotedly attached to the memory of her excellent father; and in a memorandum written by one of the ablest authors of the present day, she has been described to us as one of the most amiable and intelligent women he ever knew.

After the publication of his Travels, Bruce occupied himself in the management of his estate and of his extensive collieries. He visited London occasionally, and kept up a correspondence with Daines Barrington and with Buffon. He also employed his time in biblical literature, and even projected an edition of the Bible, with notes, pointing out numberless instances in which the Jewish history was singularly confirmed by his own observations.

His notions of his own consequence and of the antiquity of his family were high, and he had, consequently, the reputation of being a proud man; yet he was in the habit of entertaining at Kinnaird, with great hospitality, strangers, and those people of distinction who visited him; and in his own family he was a charming companion, entering into the amusements of his children with great delight. His young and amiable daughter used to walk, almost every morning, by his side, while Bruce, who had now grown exceedingly stout and lusty, rode slowly over his estate to his collieries, mounted on a horse of great power and size. At Kinnaird he was often seen wearing the turban and reclining in an Eastern costume; and in those moments it may easily be conceived that his thoughts flew with eager pleasure to the mountains of Abyssinia—that Ozoro Esther, Ras Michael, Gusho, Powussen, Fasil, Tecla Mariam, were before his eyes; and that, in their society, beloved, respected, and admired, he was once again—Yagoube, the white man! But, although his life at Kinnaird was apparently tranquil, his wounded feelings respecting his travels occasionally betrayed themselves. One day, while he was at the house of a relation in East Lothian, a gentleman present bluntly observed that it was impossible that the natives of Abyssinia could eat raw meat! Bruce said not a word; but, leaving the room, he shortly returned from the kitchen with a piece of raw beefsteak, peppered and salted in the Abyssinian fashion. "You will eat that, sir, or fight me!" he said. When the gentleman had eaten up the raw flesh, Bruce calmly observed, "Now, sir, you will never again say it is impossible!"

Single-speech Hamilton was Brace's first-cousin and intimate friend. One evening, at Kinnaird, he said, "Bruce! to convince the world of your power of drawing, you need only draw us now something in as good a style as those drawings of yours which they say have been done for you by Balugani, your Italian artist." "Gerard!" replied Bruce, very gravely, "you made one fine speech, and the world doubted its being your own composition; but if you will stand up now here, and make another speech as good, we shall believe it to have been your own."

These trifling anecdotes sufficiently show how sensitive Bruce was to the unjust insults that had been offered to him. For twenty years that had elapsed since his return to Europe, he had endured treatment which it was totally out of his power to repel. It is true, he had been complimented by Dr. Blair and a few others on the valuable information he had revealed; but the public voice still accused him of falsehood, or, what is equally culpable, of wilful exaggeration; and against the public in mass an individual can do nothing. Bruce's happiness was now at an end; he had survived his reputation. When he was asked, "What could he do against so many?" he answered, "Die!" and this catastrophe soon happened.

The last act of Brace's life was one of refined and polite attention. A large party had dined at Kinnaird, and, as they were about to depart, Bruce was gayly talking to a young lady in the drawing-room, when, suddenly observing that her aged mother was proceeding to her carriage unattended, he hurried to the great staircase. In this effort, the foot which had carried him safely through all his dangers chanced to fail him; he fell down several of the steps, broke some of his fingers, pitched on his head, and never spoke again!

Thus died, in the sixty-fourth year of his age, in the healthy winter of his life, in vigour of mind and body, James Bruce of Kinnaird, a Scotchman, who was religious, loyal, honourable, brave, prudent, and enterprising. He was too proud of his ancestors, yet his posterity have reason to be proud of him. His temper was eager, hasty, and impetuous; he but selected for the employment of his life enterprises of danger, in which haste, eagerness, and impetuosity were converted into the means of serving the cause of science and his country. The zeal with which he toiled for the approbation of the world, and the pain he felt from its cruelty and injustice, exclude him from ranking among those great men who, by the help of religion, or even philosophy, may have learned to despise both; yet it must be observed, that, had he possessed this equanimity of mind, he would never have undertaken the great things which he accomplished.

Bruce belonged to that fearless race of men who are ever ready

He was merely a knight-errant in search of new regions of the world; yet the steady courage with which he encountered danger—his patience and fortitude in adversity—his good sense in prosperity—the skill and judgment with which he steered his lonely course through some of the most barren and barbarous regions of the earth, bending even the ignorance, passions, and prejudices of the people he visited to his own advantage—the graphic truth with which he describes the strange scenes that he witnessed, and his inflexible courage in maintaining the truth of his assertions against the mean, barbarous incredulity of his age, most deservedly place him at the head of his own class, where he stands second to none. His example, therefore, is well worthy the attention and study of every individual whose duty or inclination may lead him to attempt to penetrate the yet unknown, perilous, and uncivilized regions of the globe.

Four days after his death, his remains, attended by his tenantry and by several of the principal men in the country, were deposited in the churchyard of Larbert, in a tomb which Bruce had built for his wife and his infant child.

On the south side of the monument there is the following inscription:

in this tomb are deposited the remains
of
James Bruce, Esq., of Kinnaird,
who died on the 27th of april, 1794,
in the 64th year of his age.

his life was spent in performing
useful and splendid actions.
he explored many distant regions.
he discovered the sources of the nile.
he traversed the deserts of nubia.

he was an affectionate husband,
an indulgent parent,
an ardent lover of his country.

by the unanimous voice of mankind,
his name is enrolled with those
who were conspicuous
for genius, for valour, and for virtue.

The descendants of James Bruce of Kinnaird remain to this day in their country—unrewarded.