incapacitated him for work; and for many years he had suffered from a
serious affection of the heart, which had been greatly aggravated, even
if it was not in the first instance caused, by his habit of beating
himself violently on his chest with a huge stone, at the conclusion of
his sermons - to the natural horror of his hearers, who, it is said,
were often alarmed lest he should drop dead before their eyes. The fatal
issue of such practices could only be a question of time. At length,
mental anxiety and sorrow added their weight to his burden -
particularly disappointment at the slow progress of his enterprise, and
grief over the death of his fellow-countryman and close friend, Father
Crespì, who passed to his well-earned rest on New Year's Day, 1782.
After this loss, it is recorded, he was never the same man again, though
he held so tenaciously to his duties, that only a year before the call
came to him, being then over seventy, he limped from San Diego to
Monterey, visiting his missions, and weeping over the outlying Indian
rancherìas, because he was powerless to help the unconverted dwellers in
them. He died at San Carlos, tenderly nursed to the end by the faithful
Palou, on the 28th August, 1784; and his passing was so peaceful that
those watching thought him asleep. On hearing the mission bells toll for
his death, the whole population, knowing well what had occurred, burst
into tears; and when, clothed in the simple habit of his order, his body
was laid out in his cell, the native neophytes crowded in with flowers,
while the Spanish soldiers and sailors pressed round in the hope of
being blessed by momentary contact with his corpse. He was laid beneath
the mission altar beside his beloved friend Crespì; but when, in after
years, a new church was built, the remains of both were removed and
placed within it.

It is not altogether easy to measure such a man as Junipero Serra by our
ordinary modern standards of character and conduct. He was essentially a