er as a saint. Mothers asked of heaven a
child like Virginia; lovers, a heart as faithful; the poor, as tender a
friend; and the slaves, as kind a mistress.

"When the procession had reached the place of interment, the negresses of
Madagascar, and the caffres of Mosambiac, placed baskets of fruit around
the corpse, and hung pieces of stuff upon the neighbouring trees, according
to the custom of their country. The Indians of Bengal, and of the coast of
Malabar, brought cages filled with birds, which they set at liberty upon
her coffin. Thus did the loss of this amiable object affect the natives of
different countries, and thus was the ritual of various religions breathed
over the tomb of unfortunate virtue.

"She was interred near the church of the Shaddock Grove, upon the western
side, at the foot of a copse of bamboos, where, in coming from mass with
her mother and Margaret, she loved to repose herself, seated by him whom
she called her brother.

"On his return from the funeral solemnity, Monsieur de la Bourdonnais came
hither, followed by part of his numerous train. He offered Madame de la
Tour and her friend all the assistance which it was in his power to bestow.
After expressing his indignation at the conduct of her unnatural aunt, he
advanced to Paul, and said every thing which he thought most likely to
soothe and console him. 'Heaven is my witness,' said he, 'that I wished to
ensure your happiness, and that of your family. My dear friend, you must go
to France: I will obtain a commission for you, and during your absence will
take the same care of your mother as if she were my own.' He then offered
him his hand; but Paul drew away, and turned his head, unable to bear his
sight.

"I remained at the plantation of my unfortunate friends, that I might
render to them and Paul those offices of friendship which soften, though
they cannot cure, calamity. At the end of three weeks Paul was able to
walk, yet his mind seemed to droop in proportion as his frame gathered
strength. He was insensible to every thing; his look was vacant; and when
spoken to, he made no reply. Madame de la Tour, who was dying, said to him
often, 'My son, while I look at you, I think I see Virginia.' At the name
of Virginia he shuddered, and hastened from her, notwithstanding the
entreaties of his mother, who called him back to her friend. He used to
wander into the garden, and seat himself at the foot of Virginia's cocoa
tree, with his eyes fixed