What I wants this morning very bad, indeed, it is--I wants a drink made of the sweet-smelling leaves, like as you strewed over my messmate--the Lord in heaven bless you for it." "Oh, Mr.Welch, that is a curious fancy; but you shall not ask me twice for anything; the jungle is full of them, and I'll fetch you some in five minutes.

So you must boil the water." She scudded away to the jungle, and soon returned with some aromatic leaves.

While they were infusing, Hazel came up, and, on being informed of Welch's fancy, made no opposition; but, on the contrary, said that such men had sometimes very happy inspirations.

He tasted it, however, and said the smell was the best part of it, in his opinion.

He then put it aside to cool for the sick man's use.
They ate their usual breakfast, and then Welch sipped his spiced tea, as he called it.