Meanwhile he was supported chiefly by the contributions of the officers of the garrison, themselves not well able to spare much.

While leading this lonely life he seems gradually to have given way to gloomy despondency.

I recollect one passage in his diary (which I once saw for an hour) where he expresses himself thus: "Another year has gone by, and with it all signs of the promised vessel.

Oh! God, even hope seems to have deserted me." At length a vessel from Sydney arrived, bringing a large supply of stores of every kind for the mission, but it was too late, for Father Anjello and his sorrows were alike resting in the tomb.
One day news came that he was ill; a boat was sent immediately for him, and found him dying.

He was removed to the settlement and next day he breathed his last--another, but not the last victim to the climate.