Not until the 13th was any bulletin issued which caused real anxiety and alarm. On the day following, the morning papers contained the ominous announcement that he had "passed a restless night, and the symptoms had assumed an unfavourable character during the day." The _Times_, in a leading article, while hoping for the best, startled all by its statement that "the fever which has attacked him is a weakening and wearying malady." On the morning of Saturday there was a favourable turn, but which was soon followed by a most serious relapse. About four p.m. the fever assumed a malignant typhoid type, and he began to sink with such rapidity that all stimulants failed to check the quick access of weakness. At nine o'clock a telegram was received in the City that the Prince was dying fast, and at a few minutes before eleven all was over. "On Saturday night last," said one of the daily journals of the succeeding Monday, "at an hour when the shops in the metropolis had hardly closed, when the theatres were delighting thousands of pleasure-seekers, when the markets were thronged with humble buyers seeking to provide for their Sunday requirements, when the foot-passengers yet lingered in the half-emptied streets, allured by the soft air of a calm, clear evening, a family in which the whole interest of this great nation is centred were assembled, less than five-and-twenty miles away, in the Royal residence at Windsor, in the deepest affliction around the death-bed of a beloved husband and father. In the prime of life, without--so to speak--a longer warning than that of forty-eight hours, Prince Albert, the Consort of our Queen, the parent of our future Monarchs, has been stricken down by a short but malignant disorder." Shortly after midnight, the great bell of St. Paul's, which is never tolled except upon the death of a member of the Royal Family, boomed the fatal tidings over a district extending, in the quietude of the early Sabbath morn, for miles around the metropolis. [Sidenote: DEATH OF PRINCE ALBERT.]