nder had received his release from earthly duty.
The Elizabeth must lose her guardian.
With calm confidence, he met his fate, and, at eight o'clock on Sunday morning, June 3d, he breathed his last.
At midnight, the Elizabeth had anchored off Gibraltar; but the authorities refused permission for any one to land, and directed that the burial should be made at sea. As the news spread through the port, the ships dropped their flags half-mast, and at sunset, towed by the boat of a neighboring fr in deep water.
Golden twilight flooded the western sky, and shadows of high-piled clouds lay purple on the broad Atlantic.
In that calm, summer sunset funeral, what eye foresaw the morning of horror, of which it was the sad forerunner?
At Gibraltar, they were detained a week by adverse winds, but, on the 9th of June, set sail again.
The second day after, Angelino sickened with the dreadful malady, and soon became so ill, that his life was despaired of. His eyes were closed, his head and