'At noon,' says Gamba, 'I came to his bedside. He asked me if there were any letters for him. There was one from the Archbishop Ignatius to him, which told Byron that the Sultan had proclaimed him, in full divan, an enemy of the Porte. I thought it best not to let him know of the arrival of that letter. A few hours afterwards other letters arrived from England from his most intimate friends, full of good news, and most consolatory in every way, particularly one from Mr. Hobhouse, and another from Douglas Kinnaird; but he had then become unconscious--it was too late!' April 18, 1824, was Easter Day, a holiday throughout the length and breadth of Greece, and a noisy one, too. It is the day on which the Greeks at Missolonghi were accustomed to discharge their firearms and great guns. Prince Mavrocordato gave orders that Parry should march his artillery brigade and Suliotes to some distance from the town, in order to attract the populace from the vicinity of Byron's house. At the same time the town guard patrolled the streets, and informed people of Byron's danger, begging them to make as little noise as possible. The plan succeeded admirably; Byron was not disturbed, and at three o'clock in the afternoon he rose, and, leaning on the arm of Tita, went into the next room. When seated, he told Tita to bring him a book, mentioning it by name. About this time Dr. Bruno entreated him, with tears in his eyes, to be again bled. 'No,' said Byron; 'if my hour is come, I shall die whether I lose my blood or keep it.' After reading a few minutes he became faint, and, leaning on Tita's arm, he tottered into the next room and returned to bed. At half-past three, Dr. Bruno and Dr. Millingen, becoming more alarmed, wished to call in two other physicians, a Dr. Freiber, a German, and a Greek named Luca Vaya, the most distinguished of his profession in the town, and physician to Mavrocordato. Lord Byron at first refused to see them; but being told that Mavrocordato advised it, he said: 'Very well, let them come; but let them look at me and say nothing.' They promised this, and were admitted. When about him and feeling his pulse, one of them wished to speak. 'Recollect your promise,' said Byron, 'and go away.' In order to form some idea of the state of things while Byron's life was slowly ebbing away, we will quote a passage from Parry's book, which was published soon after the poet's death: