Alas! our watching proved in vain. Yesterday morning, in the grey dawn, the sweet soul passed quietly away, unconsciously and without pain, in her early spring-time. She was only twenty-two. She had battled through the fever and subsequent dysentery, and we thought all danger was over, when suddenly a change for the worse set in, and it became evident there was no hope. We have the comfort of knowing that if human skill could have availed to keep her here, we certainly had excellent medical advice, having two very clever doctors—Macgregor and Mayo—in constant attendance, and two more in consultation.... Her one regret, since she arrived here, was that she had left her only child in England—a lovely little fellow, aged three. She has missed him sorely. Now we are glad to think that he is safe at home.... At sunset we laid her to rest, under the shadow of a great boulder of red rock, on a headland overlooking the sea, with palms and wild-citron trees and tall reedy grass all round,—a most lovely spot, especially at sunrise, when the sun comes up out of the sea—or in the beautiful moonlight. I found it one day while exploring the bush round the cemetery. It is within its boundaries, yet quite apart. Captain Knollys had a narrow path cleared yesterday leading to it. The evening was dreary beyond description. The sea and sky were leaden. We had the first part of the service in church by candle-light. Mr Maudslay had made a lovely cross of white flowers, which lay on the coffin. By the time we came out it was quite dark, and we stumbled along the wretched path through the town to the shore, where boats were waiting. Of course we were all present, and sad enough, as you may well believe; for this is a heavy cloud for our small community. It is two miles from the church to the cemetery (which lies a mile beyond Nasova). Happily it did not rain while we were going, but previous downpours had made the steep clay path leading up to the hill from the sea-beach so slippery, that it was all the sailors could do to carry the coffin (Captain Grant Suttie had sent his boats and men from the Nymphe). The service was read by the dim light of a lantern, and was scarcely ended when the rain fell in torrents—a dismal night indeed....