CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. XXXV 
see him. Father Bustamante was an aged priest, 
who had been particularly kind to my uncle on his 
first arrival in Malaga. My unple went immedi- 
ately to Father Bustamante, gave him every conso- 
lation in his power, and then returned to his own 
house, very unwell, there to die a martyr to his 
charity. Father Bustamante breathed his last before 
daylight ; my uncle took to his bed, and never rose 
more. As soon as we had received information of 
his sickness, I immediately set out on foot for the 
city. His friend Mr. Power^ now of Gibraltar, was 
already in his room, doing every thing that friend- 
ship could suggest, or prudence dictate. My uncle's 
athletic constution bore up against the disease 
much longer than we thought it possible. He 
struggled with it for five days, and sank at last about 
the hour of sunset. He stood six feet four inches 
high ; and was of so kind and generous a disposition, 
that he was beloved by all who knew him. Many a 
Spanish tear flowed when it was known that he 
had ceased to be. We got him a kind of coffin made, 
in which he was conveyed at midnight to the out- 
skirts of the town, there to be put into one of the 
pits which the galley-slaves had dug, during the day, 
for the reception of the dead. But they could not 
spare room for the coffin ; so the body was taken out 
of it, and thrown upon the heap which already occu- 
pied the pit. A Spanish marquis lay just below him. 
" Divesne prisco natus ab Inacho, 
Nil interest, an pauper, et infima 
De gente." 
Thousands died as though they had been seized 
b 2 
