Though the subject of these notes seems to have been in every sense the life and soul of the expedition, yet, as the French writer Lanoye tartly pointed out, at the time of his writing poor Lander's grave in the cemetery of Fernando Po was undistinguished by any monument; nor do I know whether or not this omission has even yet been rectified. 'A solitary palm tree,' says Baikie,[100] 'marks the spot where this heroic traveller and most intrepid pioneer of civilization fell;' but the village itself from which the attack was delivered has, I believe, been moved about a quarter of a mile farther up the river.

The Royal Geographical Society, however, has not been unmindful of Lander's claim to a place in the front rank of discoverers, and have fixed in the Chapel Royal, Savoy, a stained glass memorial window, the subjects of which are the Transfiguration and the Last Supper, with the following inscription:

'In memory of Richard Lemon Lander, the discoverer of the source of the Niger, and the first Gold Medallist of the Royal Geographical Society.[101] He was born at Truro, in 1804, and died in the Island of Fernando Po in 1834, from wounds inflicted by the natives. This window is inserted by her Majesty's permission by some of his relations and friends, and by some of the Fellows of the Royal Geographical Society.'

This was in substitution for the tablet erected in 1834, and destroyed by the fire of 7th July, 1864.

His native place has not forgotten his fame, as the Doric column at Truro surmounted by his statue testifies. The plate on the foundation-stone bore this inscription: 'To honour the enterprise and sufferings of the brothers Richard and John Lander, natives of this town, and to commemorate the early fate of Richard, who perished on the Quorra, Ætat. 30.' And his name has been given to two places on the Niger. That he did not himself forget his Cornish home is clear from his having named an island on the river 'Truro Island,' and one of the high hills on its banks, 'Cornwall Mountain.'

A writer in the 'Annual Biography and Obituary' for 1834 says of him that 'Richard Lander was of short stature, but he possessed great muscular strength, and a constitution of iron.' No stranger could help being 'struck (as Sir Joseph Banks was with Ledyard) with the breadth of his chest, the openness of his countenance, and the restlessness of his eye. He was gifted in an eminent degree with that passive courage which is so requisite a qualification in an African traveller. His manners were mild, unobtrusive, and highly pleasing, which, joined to his cheerful temper and ingenuous handsome countenance, rendered him a favourite with everyone that knew him, by most of whom he was beloved in the fullest sense of that word.'

So greatly was Richard Lander beloved by the untutored Africans, that at various places in the interior where he had remained some time, as at Katunga, Boussa, Yaoorie, numbers of the inhabitants ran out of their huts to embrace him on his leaving, and with hands uplifted, and eyes filled with tears, they blessed him in the name of their gods.

The Literary Gazette for 3rd May, 1834, had the following observations on Lander's death: 'Thus has another sacrifice to African discovery been made: a man whose character was of the highest human stamp. Calm and resolute, steady and fearless, bold and adventurous, never did there exist a more fit instrument for the undertaking of such exploits as those which have shed a lustre over his humble name. We cannot express the sorrow with which the sad calamity has filled us—it is a deep private affliction, and a lasting national regret.'

A pension of £70 a year was granted by the Government to Lander's widow, and a donation of £50 to his daughter; and a sum of 80 guineas which had been collected in Truro (with a view to presenting the Landers with a piece of plate) was diverted towards the cost of erecting the Lander column. An infant son of the same name died the same year as his father, and was buried in the churchyard of the Savoy.

I do not know that I can more suitably conclude these imperfect remarks than by quoting the following touching letter—I believe the last he ever wrote—as an illustration of his amiable, unselfish character: