174; THE OCEAN. 



delay this, as plants in a living state give out 

 oxygen.* 



Every night the pole-star is perceptible nearer the 

 horizon, and every day the meridian sun reaches to 

 a higher and yet a higher point, until it appears 

 almost vertical. The wind gradually becomes lighter, 

 until we arrive at the "calm latitudes," where we 

 lie weeks without making any progress. The captain 

 and crew whistle for wind with as much perseverance 

 as if they had never been disappointed, and every 

 one watches anxiously for the least breathings of 

 a breeze. Nothing can exceed the tantalizing tedium 

 of this condition ; the wearied eye gazes intently 

 upon the glistening sea, and eagerly catches the 

 slightest ruffling of the mirror-like smoothness, in 

 hopes that it may be an indication of wind ; but on 

 glancing at the feather-vane upon the ship's quarter, 

 the hope fades on perceiving it hang motionless 

 from its staff. A still more delicate test is then 

 resorted to, that of throwing a live coal overboard, 

 and marking if the little cloud of white steam has 

 any lateral motion ; but no ! it ascends perpendi- 

 cularly till dispersed in the air. Now and then the 

 polished surface of the sea is suddenly changed to 

 a blue ripple ; expectation becomes strong, for there 

 is no doubt of the reality of the motion ; but before 

 the sails can feel the breeze, it has died away again, 

 the air is as still, and the sea as glassy, as before. 

 Coleridge has well described such a state in his 

 " Ancient Mariner : " — 



* I may be permitted to call attention to the fact that this 

 passage stands verbatim as it did in the first edition, which was 

 published in 1844. It is the principle of the Marine Aquarium, 



