A MELANCHOLY FATE. 197

again to his friend, communicating the melancholy
intelligence of the death of his unfortunate at-
tendant, Borone. “He had quite recovered,” says
the letter, “from an attack of illness, and on the
evening of his melancholy fate was unusually gay,
singing to a tune that Arakiel, Mr Hawkins’ ser-
vant, played upon the guitar. Shortly after mid-
night we were awakened by the cries of Francesco,
who had fallen into the street out of the window
of the chamber where he slept. On the servants
going down to him, he languishingly groaned to
Arakiel, who was the first that reached him, ‘Ah,
povero Hrancesco € morto!’ and presently after
expired. We have every reason to think he was
walking in his sleep. . . . . The next day, at
evening, he was buried at the Church of the Ma-
donna, under the shade of a mulberry-tree. The
obsequies were performed in a very decent manner
by four Greek priests, who chanted over him the
burial service. . . . . The archbishop, who a
few days before had expressed the strongest obliga-
tions to the English nation, pitifully sent a papas
to demand 50 piastres (about L.12) for his permis-
sion to bury him. Yielding to the remonstrances
of the consul, he withdrew his preposterous claim,
but has since intimated that he would be glad of a
present. We mean to send him a Greek Testa-
ment, that a metropclitan, who has four suffragans,