When it was known that Father Francis was expired, many of the ship, and even the most devoted to the governor, ran to the cabin.  They found the same fresh colour on his face as he had when living, and at the first sight could hardly persuade themselves that he was dead.  When they had looked on him at a nearer distance, piety began to be predominant over all their other thoughts:  they kneeled down by him, and kissed his hands with reverence, recommending themselves to him, with tears in their eyes, as nothing doubting but that his happy soul was perfectly enjoying God in heaven.

His corpse was not laid into the ground till Sunday towards noon.  His funerals were made without any ceremony; and, besides Antonio de Sainte Foy, Francis d’Aghiar, and two others, there were not any more assistants.  An historian of the Indies has written, that the unsupportable coldness of that day, was the occasion of it.  But in all probability, the apprehension which the ship’s company had of drawing on themselves the displeasure of the governor, Don Alvarez, had at least as great a share in it as the sharpness of the season.  They took off his cassock, which was all in tatters; and the four, who had paid him those last duties, divided it amongst them, out of devotion; after which they arrayed him in his sacerdotal habits.

George Alvarez took upon himself the care of bestowing the body in a large chest, made after the Chinese fashion; he caused this chest to be filled up with unslaked lime; to the end that, the flesh being soon consumed, they might carry the bones in the vessel, which within some few months was to return to India.

At the point of the haven there was a little spot of rising ground, and at the foot of this hillock a small piece of meadow, where the Portuguese had set up a cross.  Near that cross they interred the saint:  they cast up two heaps of stones, the one at his head, the other at his feet, as a mark of the place where he was buried.

In the mean season, God made manifest the holiness of his servant in the kingdom of Navarre, by a miraculous accident, or rather by the ceasing of a miracle.  In a little chapel, at the castle of Xavier, there was an ancient crucifix made of plaster, of about the stature of a man.  In the last year of the Father’s life, this crucifix was seen to sweat blood in great abundance every Friday, but after Xavier was dead the sweating ceased.  The crucifix is to be seen even at this day, at the same place, with the blood congealed along the arms and thighs, to the hands and sides.  They, who have beheld it, have been informed by the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, that some persons of that country having taken away some of the flakes of that clotted blood, the bishop of Pampeluna had forbidden any one from henceforward to diminish any part of it, under pain of excommunication.  They also learnt, that it had been observed, according; to the news which came from the Indies, that at the