tempest. Louisa and Desclieux
contemplated it with a sweet joy, as at once the emblem and the omen
of domestic happiness amid the storms of life. But, alas! the wind
suddenly lulled--not the least breath to fill the sails, not a wave
broke against the motionless vessel: an awful calm succeeded; and
what is more terrible upon this scene of continual agitation than a
calm unwonted and too often fatal? The dead heat of the tropics was
felt in all its power by the helpless voyagers; they languished and
fainted with a continual thirst; and, horrible to relate, the water
was failing, for they had thrown so much overboard, that they were
limited to a very small allowance--a cupful at most.

If men, notwithstanding their energies, sunk under the sufferings
caused by the intense heat and burning thirst, what must have been
the state of the poor little plant which faded away before the eye!
It had its allowance also, but it was not enough; and every morning
and evening Desclieux gave it his, only for which it would have died.
Louisa was astonished to see the feeble plant yet bearing up; but
Desclieux carefully concealed from her the means he was using, lest
she also would deprive herself of water for it, and that he did not
wish--he preferred suffering alone; and a long sojourn in the hottest
parts of Arabia had in a great measure inured him to the climate, so
that he did not feel it so much as others. The calm was
uninterrupted, the remainder of the water was nearly exhausted, their
situation was become dreadful, and there was no hope, in their case,
of any relief from another vessel, for all were alike becalmed; and
it was sad to see the ocean without a sail in the horizon, or, if
there was one, it too was motionless. Their ration of water was now
reduced to one small liqueur glass. One drop only, just to moisten
his lips, and Desclieux poured the rest on the plant, now apparently
dying.

'Alas! how you are changed!' said Louisa to him one day: 'how pale
you have become. You are suffering: this heat is killing you.'

He knew it; but he had promised to water the plant, even though he
himself was to die of thirst; and he was faithful to his word. One
evening, when Louisa and her parents were questioning him, he thus
answered in a feeble voice, 'You are right; I die of thirst, that my
charge may live--it is my duty.' And saying these words, he laid his
parched lips upon its withered leaves, as one would kiss the hand of
an exp