cursing. At times he would drop asleep, and ceasing to think of his breath, would awake suffocating, and break the silence of night with the most awful outcries. Seated in the armchair, on our last Saturday at sea, he died. His groans in this world will be heard no more; but where, oh where, is his soul?
The Sabbath morning broke calm and peaceful. At an early hour the body of the poor Greek was brought to the ship's gangway for burial. The corpse, sewed in a canvas winding-sheet, with weights attached to the feet, was laid on a plank at the open port. Every soul on board was present. Amid a solemn silence, a hymn was sung. The oldest of the missionary band, having read select portions from the Scriptures, and led in prayer, made a solemn address to the living; again he read from the Scriptures, and at a fitting moment the plank was raised, and the body launched into the deep. With a heavy splash it fell upon the water; there was a gurgling; a few bubbles rose and broke, and once more all was still as death.
The men resumed their seats, and listened with earnest solemnity to a brief address from another, calling upon them to prepare to meet
