hem; and the two brothers fell in each
others arms.

On its return, the Persian caravan had one driver the less, for the
apostate was on his death-bed in the humble dwelling of his brother.
Once more a Christian, again reconciled to his God, he calmly awaited
his summons to a better world. For two weeks he lingered on, repenting
his error and praying for mercy. He died, and in the little jessamine
bower where he had met with the Mussulman, the monk buried the
Christian; he placed a cross upon his grave and mourned him long; but a
heavy load had been removed from his breast, and since that time he had
felt happy, having no weight on his mind to disturb him in the execution
of his sacred ministry.

Having narrated this passage in his history, the Padre Marini bid me
good night, and we prepared to sleep. I went to the boat, where,
stretching myself at the bottom, with my face turned towards the
glittering canopy above, I remained pensive and reflecting upon the
narrative of the monk, until at last I slept.

CHAPTER VI.

I felt chilly, and I awoke. It was daylight. I stood on my feet and
looked around me. I found myself floating on the deep sea, far from the
shore, the outline of which was tinged with the golden hues of morn. The
rope and stick to which the boat had been made fast towed through the
water, as the land-breeze, driving me gently, increased my distance from
the land. For some moments I was rather scared; the oars were left on
shore, and I had no means of propelling my little skiff.

In vain did I paddle with my hands and the stick which I had taken on
board. I turned and turned again round to all the points of the compass,
but to no purpose. At last I began to reflect. The sea was smooth and
quiet; so I was in no immediate danger. The Padre, when he awoke in the
morning, would discover my accident, and perhaps see the boat; he would
hasten to town, but he would not arrive till the evening; for he was an
old man, and had to walk twenty-five miles. Boats would be despatched
after me; even the Mexican schooner which lay in the bay. The next
morning I was certain to be rescued, and the utmost of my misfortune
would amount to a day of fast and solitude. It was no great matter; so I
submitted to my fate, and made a virtue of necessity.

Happily for me, the boat belonged to an American exceedingly fond of
fishing; and consequently it contained many necessaries which I had
before overlooked. Between the