he gradually sunk; and at last went out just as a taper might have done,
exposed to such gusts of wind as blew in that tempestuous region. He
died in the morning; but it was not until the evening that he was
prepared for a seaman's grave.

"I remember, in the course of the day, going to the side of the boy's
hammock, and on laying my hand upon his breast, was astonished to find
it still warm--so much so, that I almost imagined I could feel the heart
beat. This, of course, was a vain fancy; but I was much attached to my
little companion, being then not much taller myself--and I was soothed
and gratified, in a childish way, by discovering that my friend, though
many hours dead, had not yet acquired the usual revolting chillness.

"In after years I have sometimes thought of this incident, when
reflecting on the pleasing doctrine of the Spaniards--that as soon as
children die, they are translated into angels, without any of those cold
obstructions, which, they pretend, intercept and retard the souls of
other mortals. The peculiar circumstances connected with the funeral
which I am about to describe, and the fanciful superstitions of the
sailors upon the occasion, have combined to fix the whole scene in
my memory.

"Something occurred during the day to prevent the funeral taking place
at the usual hour, and the ceremony was deferred till long after sunset.
The evening was extremely dark, and it was blowing a treble-reefed
topsail breeze. We had just sent down the top-gallant yards, and made
all snug for a boisterous winter's night. As it became necessary to have
lights to see what was done, several signal lanterns were placed on the
break of the quarter-deck, and others along the hammock railings on the
lee-gangway. The whole ship's company and officers were assembled, some