hed
me, added to my grief for the sad death of my poor brother. Every
calamity seemed to oppress me. After some years of happiness I saw,
by little and little, disappear from this world, the persons on whom I
had concentrated my dearest affections; but, alas! I had not even then
reached the term of my sorrows, for other and most bitter sufferings
were still to be passed through.

I saw with pleasure my boy was enjoying the best health, and that he
was daily increasing in strength; and yet I was far from being happy,
and to the melancholy caused by the losses I had experienced was
added another most fearful alarm. My beloved Anna had never thoroughly
recovered after her accouchement, and day by day her health was growing
weaker. She did not seem aware of her state. Her happiness at being
a mother was so great that she did not think of her own condition.

I had gathered in my sugar-cane crop, which was most abundant,
and my plantations were finished, when, wishing to procure some
amusement for my wife, I proposed to go and spend some time at the
house of her sister Josephine, for whom she entertained the warmest
affection. She, with great pleasure, agreed to do so. We set out with
our dear little Henry and his nurse, and took up our quarters at the
house of my brother-in-law, Don Julian Calderon, then residing in a
pretty country-house on the banks of the river Pasig, half a league
from Manilla.

Of the three sisters of my wife, Josephine was the one for whom I had
the most affection: I loved her as I did my own sister. The day of our
arrival was one of rejoicing. All our friends at Manilla came to see
us, and Anna was so pleased in seeing our little Henry admired that
her health seemed to have improved considerably; but this apparent
amelioration lasted but a few days, and soon, to my grief, I saw that
she was growing worse than ever. I sent for the only medical man in
Manilla in whom I had confidence, my friend Genu. He came frequently
to see her, and after six weeks of constant attention, he advised
me to take her back to my residence near the lake, where persons
attacked with the same malady as my dear Anna had often recovered. As
she herself wished to return, I appointed a day for our departure. A
commodious boat, with good rowers, was ready for us on the Pasig, at
the end of my brother-in-law's garden; and a numerous assemblage of our
friends accompanied us to the water's edge. The moment of separation
was one o