The voices of spring flowers and other tales

Material Information

The voices of spring flowers and other tales
Series Title:
Chambers's library for young people
M. S
Lamb, Ruth, b. 1829 ( Author )
William and Robert Chambers
Place of Publication:
London ;
William and Robert Chambers
Publication Date:
Physical Description:
147 p., [1] leaf of plates : ill. ; 15 cm.


Subjects / Keywords:
Fairies -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1870 ( lcsh )
Allegories -- 1870 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1870
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Allegories ( rbgenr )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
Scotland -- Edinburgh
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )


Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
Statement of Responsibility:
by M.S.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections ( with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026941263 ( ALEPH )
ALH7351 ( NOTIS )
56903621 ( OCLC )

Full Text

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BY M. S.


Printed by W. & R. Chambers.













IT was spring-flowers enamelled the ground
that had so lately been covered with frost; the
tender buds upon the trees were swelling and
bursting into life; the young shoots that had
for many months been wrapped in a clothing
of snow, were putting forth their leaves of
freshest green; birds sang on the branches,
or flew hither and thither, collecting materials
for their nests; the wind blew from the south,
bearing on its wings the odour of violets. The
glorious sun shone gaily on all around, and
nature, responding to the warm influence, sent

forth its grateful offering of fresh wild-flowers,;
the squirrels sprang from tree to tree; and the
wood-pigeon, nestling in the branches, cooed
softly to her mate, and seemed in her voice of
love to speak the promise of the coming summer.
In this scene of loveliness, a little girl wandered
forth. She stopped frequently to inhale the
scent of the sweet violets, and to cull bright
flowers as they rose to view; till, wearied with
the load she had gathered, she sat down on a
grassy mound to arrange her treasures, and
with childish glee chatted to each as it passed
through her tiny fingers.
At last she exclaimed: "What is it that
makes flowers so beautiful, and all so unlike
each other ? I wish they could speak to me,
and tell me where they lie hidden all the
dark cold winter, when the snow lies on the
ground !" While occupied with these thoughts,
a dreamy influence rapidly stole over her
bright fancy, and sleep fell on her heavy
eyelids. She did not know that the spot
on which she lay was fairy ground, and if
there a favoured being chanced to sleep, the
secrets of fairy-land would be revealed to that
being Now, this little girl was born on a

Midsummer Eve, and was therefore peculiarly
favoured by the fairies. She was, besides,
good, gentle, and true, and of a nature such
as the good spirits love to watch over; and
as that little girl lay with her arms encircling
the flowers, her attendant fairy touched her
eyes with her enchanted wand, and she opened
them on a scene of unspeakable beauty. A
strain of music, softer and sweeter than she
had ever before heard, fell on her ear; and
astonishment held her in silent admiration.
She was not frightened, for all was too beautiful;
but wonder and delight so filled her mind, that
she could only gaze speechless on the scene
around her. She seemed to be in a vast and
brilliantly lighted hall; but yet, when she
looked steadfastly at the ceiling, there was
the sky, with its myriads of stars looking like
a net-work of diamonds-the same sky she
so often gazed on from her little bed, but far
more blue, and the stars .more clear and
bright. The walls, too, were everchanging;
sometimes they appeared like those of some
magnificent saloon, with columns and arches
hung with tapestry, and brilliantly illuminated;
and again, when she looked, they seemed to

wave like tall trees, whose tops almost reached
the sky. But the most wonderful thing of all,
was the company with which this hall was
filled. All around her, as far as she could
see, was a multitude of little people, all beau-
tiful and all splendidly dressed, but so small,
that she could have covered any one of them
with her little hand; some were so tiny,
indeed, that she could hardly discern their
features. She felt that she could not step
without crushing some of them, and so re-
mained lying where she was, only raising
herself on her elbow, and looking with great
delight on all around her. At last she heard
a low sweet voice speaking to her.
"Little girl," it said, you were wishing, but
a short time since, that the flowers could speak
to you; we are the spirits of the flowers, and
have heard and granted your wish. You shall
now see some of us singly; and then we will
answer what questions you like to ask."
The fairies now retired for a short distance,
leaving a little space round the child, in which
appeared, one by one, various little beings, all
most beautiful, but, yet all differing one from
the other. And first there came a slender

little figure, clothed entirely in robes of purest
white, except that the border of her dress and
of her veil were of a light green. She was very
beautiful, but very, very pale, and so fragile that
it seemed as if a breath would have destroyed
her. By her side walked a little fellow, very
upright, with rather a consequential air; he
was dressed in the old-fashioned style, with his
jerkin of purple velvet, and his trunk-hose and
full sleeves of the same colour, slashed with
white. The little girl knew that they were
called Snowdrop and Crocus, and she said:
"Snowdrop, what makes you look so pale?
Why are you not gay like the flowers that
come after you ? And why, in spite of this, does
every one watch for you, and greet you with a
loving welcome ?"
And the Snowdrop answered: "I belong both
to the winter and spring, and die beneath the
too piercing rays of the summer sun. I have
borrowed the whiteness of the snow, from which
I rise; while the spring, of which I am the
harbinger, has bestowed on me some faint traces
of her own beautiful green. Spring's harbinger
am I, and therefore do all love me, for all love
and welcome the bringer of glad tidings."

Then the little girl turned, and saw that
many others had arrived. On one side were
assembled a gay group attired as for a ball,
their light robes of purple, and red, or silver-
white, were floating on the air-these were the
Anemones; and close beside them stood their
partners, the Tulips, in gay fancy-dresses, striped
with many colours; near these last were the
Fritillaries, with their short cloaks and caps
nodding in the wind, as if going to pay their
court to their chief, the Crown Imperial.
"We," they cried, we change not with the
times, nor give in to new customs, whether of
dress or actions. Loyalty and faith are out
of fashion now; and few cherish us, or care to
have us in their gardens; but there are still
some spots where old friends find a welcome,
and there we make our abode."
"Old friends," said another voice, and the
Wall-flower came forward; "who has a better
right to that title than I ? And who, except
the Ivy, clings so fondly and closely as I do to
the relics of the past ? To those who will listen
to my voice, I tell of times departed; of the
great and noble of other days; of mitred abbots
and lowly monks; of holy and learned men; of

nobles and their serfs; the oppressor and the
oppressed, now equal in the grave; and more
than this, I speak of a time not far distant,
when those who now hear me will be as they;
and this is why, in spite of my humble dress
of russet brown and yellow, my perfume is so
sweet, and I am sought for and valued by
those of thoughtful mind. But here is one will
teach you a yet mightier lesson," and she drew
forward a figure like an angel, in robes of the
brightest blue.
Beautiful fairy!" cried the child, whence
come you? For I know you not; and what
lesson am I to learn of you? "
"Little lady," replied the fairy, but a short
time ago I was called 'meanest flower among
the mean,' now few surpass me in beauty; and
you, too, may gain a beauty equal, nay, superior
to mine.
From the dust I take my rise,
Upward glancing to the skies.'
Our origin is the same, it depends on you
whether our fates be also alike."
The child heard in silent wonder, and bending
her little head with humility to the lesson,
turned to where stood a humbler group.

The Dead Nettle was there, with its dull
russet dress; and the Valerian and Ground-
ivy, clad in lilac; and the Clovers in red, white,
and yellow; and Cowslips looking like industri-
ous housewives in brown-holland aprons; and
many another flower of the spring; and
the Cowslips nodded and curtsied, and said:
"Types, are we, little maiden, of the more
homely and domestic virtues. Not one of us
but has her appointed use; even the insigni-
ficant Vetch and lowly Arum supply food to
those who, but for them, would have languished
and died. All may not possess beauty or talent,
but, however placed, all may follow our
'None so humble but may bless,
None too mean'for usefulness.'"

And now fresh arrivals diverted the child's
attention. One little fairy was there, in
brightest blue, and with the dimpled face and
sunny smiles of childhood. Her name was
Eyebright-her pet-name, as one of the older
fairies said, for she had been originally named
Veronica; but this, and many other names
besides, had been given her to distinguish her

from her numerous relatives, all bearing the
surname of Veronica. To some of these the
little girl was now presented, and told that
others were too delicate to bear the still keen
air. And then there was the Primrose, in her
robes of pale sulphur; and the Wood-sorrel, in
glittering white; and the elegant ladylike
Hyacinth ; and the Daffodil, or Lent Lily, as the
little girl now for the first time heard was her
ancient name. But among all these beauties,
the little girl missed one-her favourite flower,
that she was wont to search for in every hedge-
row and field. She looked from side to side in
vain, till at last she was attracted by a perfume
sweeter than that of any of the gay flowers she
had been contemplating; and guided by that,
she at last found the spot where a graceful,
modest-looking little fairy stood half-concealed
in a shady bower.
Beautiful Violet!" exclaimed the child,
"at last I have found you; all these gay flowers
could not satisfy me while you were absent!"
"True," said one of the older fairies who
stood near, "so certain is it that with every
beauty, every grace, the chief charm is wanting
where humility is not. There is another fairy

nearly related to the Violet, on whom she is
almost a constant attendant; for which she is
called Heart's-ease, as that always follows
modest worth."
"But," said the little girl, "how is it that so
long as I have known and loved the flowers in
which you reside, I have never before seen
you, sweet fairies, or even guessed at your
existence ?"
"We only make ourselves known to a few
favoured mortals," replied the fairy; but know,
also, that each flower has an attendant spirit,
whose duty it is to guard and adorn it; every
evening we collect the dew that falls, and with
it we refresh and renew their bright colours."
"But what, then, is the dew?" asked the
little girl..
"It is the tears of the stars," replied the
fairy, "that they shed for us, their humble
kindred. The stars are the flowers of the sky;
we, like you, are children of the earth, and
liable to be crushed or injured by every passing
storm; and they weep nightly for those among
us who have perished during the day. It is
our task to contribute to your happiness, and
adorn your homes on earth, while in the sky

the stars are woven in wreaths of love for you,
speaking to you even'now with a voice as plain
as ours. But it grows late; some of my fairy
companions have already drawn within the
shelter of their closed buds; even the Hyacinth
nods with drowsiness on its stalk, and it is time
for you to return home. Good-night !"-and a
chorus of many voices rang out "Good-night !"
which was echoed by a soft wind, until the
murmur in the distance died away; and after
the fairy spell was removed, the sound seemed
taken up by the sighing of the wind in the
trees, and her fairy dream was carried on.
She thought the stars seemed to gaze on her
with a loving kindness, and the memory of the
beautiful flowers was as a still small voice in
her heart, which warmly greeted the sweet
impressions of nature's lessons, leading her
gentle spirit to
Look through nature up to nature's God."
Starting, at last, into entire consciousness,
she found herself lying on the grassy mound,
and her pretty flowers withering by her side.
With a sigh for her dying treasures, she rose
to return home; and, notwithstanding that the

evening was closing, and the air felt chill and
damp, the spirit of her dream watched over
her path, and cheered her on her way with
many bright and happy thoughts.







THOSE who have read the story of the little girl
who was so favoured by the fairies of the Spring
Flowers, have perhaps wished to hear something
more concerning her, and to know whether she
was ever again so fortunate as to see and to
converse with them. For their benefit, therefore,
I will now relate one more story about her.
You may well suppose that the little girl,
whose name, I should have told you before,
was Annie, was never weary of talking about
the beautiful fairies, and the splendour of the
brilliant hall in which she had seen them; nor

did she forget their words, and the advice which
they had given her, for, as I said before, she
was a good and gentle, as well as thoughtful
child. Though she had always been fond of
flowers, she now became doubly so, seeming
to read a lesson in each fragrant leaf and bud,
while those who knew her thought she was
herself as bright a blossom as any that sur-
rounded her.
Amongst her playmates was one named
Julia, who, I am sorry to say, did not resemble
her in any respect. While Annie's loving,
unselfish temper, and sweet and gentle man-
ners, made her welcome and beloved wherever
she came, Julia was either absolutely disliked,
or, at best, uncared for by her companions;
indeed, some of them refused to play with her,
saying she always spoiled the pleasure of all
that were with her; but Annie bore so sweetly
and patiently with her ill-humour, was so ready
to yield to all her wishes, and so kindly endea-
voured to hide her faults from others, that even
Julia, who seldom cared for any one but herself,
could not help loving her, and would sometimes
wish that she were as much beloved as little
Annie; but, like many other foolish children,

she did not see that the sole cause of all this
love was the goodness and gentleness of her
little playmate, but imagined that it was a
fairy gift. At last, she entreated Annie to
procure for her also an interview with the
It was in vain for Annie to represent to her
that she knew not where to find them; that
they had, at the first, been unsought by her;
and that she should probably not succeed in
finding them, even were she to attempt to do so.
Julia only grew angry, and at last put herself
in such a passion, that, frightened at her vehe-
mence, Annie yielded so far as to promise to
accompany her to the mound where she had
seen the fairies, and where, if they both fell
asleep, perhaps a similar favour might be
granted them.
It was a beautiful day in the height of sum-
mer; the sun darted his fierce rays on the heads
of the little girls, who were soon glad to take
shelter under a wide-spreading beech-tree.
Little Annie amused herself with watching
the checkered light and shade which played
on the turf, as the sunbeams found their way
through the thick leaves. Then she saw a

number of little ants, who were busily running
to and from their nests. As she watched how
some contrived to drag a load greater than
their own size, and how each assisted the other,
and marked the order and regularity that per-
vaded all their arrangements, her heart was
-filled with wonder and admiration, and she felt
an increased love and gratitude towards the
Almighty Power who has so marvellously
ordered all things, and provided for the wants
of even the smallest of His creatures.
Turning round, she beheld Julia busily
engaged in crushing all the hapless ants that
came within her reach, while a number of dead
flies shewed that her enmity was not confined
to one class of insects. Annie's earnest
remonstrances had no other effect than that
of increasing her ill-temper, which, as they
continued their walk, she shewed by a sullen
silence, and by trampling on every flower that
grew in her path. At last the two little girls
reached the fairy mound, and as they were
tired with their walk, they both soon fell fast
Little Annie was presently roused by a strain
of music so soft and sweet, that she thought

it the most beautiful she had ever heard, and
starting up, she found herself in the same hall
which she had seen on her former visit. She
was surrounded, too, by fairies, but among them
she could recognize but few of her former
friends; in fapt, most of the flowers that had
there been blooming were unable to bear the
heat of summer, and had retired to some cool
and shady retreat till another spring should
come. While she was gazing around, and vainly
trying to discover some familiar face, one of the
fairies advanced to her, and said: "Little girl,
when last you wpre here, our queen, fairest and
loveliest of us all, was buried in slumber; but
if you now desire to see her, follow me. First,
however, let me point out to you some of my
companions who n4w surround you. Look at
the gracefully drooping form by your side-no
bright colours, no gaudy dress are hers, and
yet how few are more beloved and prized!
Distrustful of her own powers, she clings for
support to those near her; and so unpre-
tending is she, that her presence is often
unsuspected till the surpassing sweetness of
her perfume betrays her influence on our

'The fair wild Honeysuckle flower
Seemeth of her to speak,
Who clings to home, her sheltering bower,
With loving heart and meek.
Careless for self, but full of dare
That home be ever sweet and fair.'

By the side of this true English maiden, behold
a fair foreigner, the Heliotrope, ever turning her
steadfast gaze to the source of her beauty and
fragrance ; and, further still, an imperial-
looking flower, like her a native of another
clime, but long since domesticated even in the
cottage-homes of this. Beautiful Fuschia, how
few flowers can compare with thy royal colours;
or the grace of thy form and yet
'There are, of beauty rare;
In holy calm upgrowing,
Of minds whose richness might cbmpar
E'en with thy deep tints gldwing:
Yet all unconscious of thb grace they wear.
Like flowers upon the spray-
Al lowliness-not sadness :
Bright are their thoughts, and rich, not gay-
Grave in their very gladness :
Shedding calm summer light over life's changeful day.'

But see, little girl, here are we arrived, in
the presence of our queen;" and, as she spoke;

they stood before a throne that seemed com-
posed of emeralds and diamonds, which sparkled
with a brilliancy and lustre that could not be
equalled by the crown of any earthly queen.
Above the throne was a canopy of the same
precious materials, but so delicately carved and
wrought, that it seemed to tremble in the breeze;
and the azure dome of the hall, also gleaming
with diamonds, was distinctly visible through its
interstices. But beautiful and gorgeous as this
throne was, the little girl's attention was
instantly fixed on its occupant, who, as her
conductors had truly said, far surpassed all her
subjects in grace and beauty; and whom, by her
robe of crimson, varying from the deepest shade
to the lightest pink, edged with the softest
green, as well as by her surpassing loveliness,
and the perfume that filled the air, she knew to
be the Spirit of the Rose. And whence came it
that her beauty so far surpassed that of her
companions ? The question is best answered in
the words of the poet-
"Can love so written be
In any flower that blows ?
Well, therefore, may we see
That lovely is the Rose;
Like to love's holy fount, whence sweetness ever flows."

The beautiful queen smiled graciously on her,
and said: Once more, Annie, it is permitted
to you to visit us. More favoured than the
generality of mortals, you have been allowed to
penetrate the mystery of our hidden existence.
On yourself it will depend whether you will still,
through life, have occasional glimpses of that
existence-of the spirit-world-or whether it
will become to you, as to most, indeed a hidden
and secret thing, But I will now shew you one,
whose friendship, far more than even mine, you
must cultivate, if you wish to continue the
intercourse with us, which you have thus early
Obedient to the gesture that accompanied
these words, Annie turned to where, close by
the throne, stood a majestic figure, whose robe
of dazzling white fell in graceful folds to her
feet. Taller than any of her companions, her
erect unassuming mien, and grave though
placid countenance, gave her at first a somewhat
severe look; but the awe which this inspired
was soon tempered by the exceeding sweetness
of her smile; and when Annie marked the
dignified yet beaming look of kindness which
she turned upon her, she felt that she was one,


to win whose love she would almost lay down
her life.
"My child," said the queen, "you have seen
that from every flower you may learn an import-
ant lesson. Each is the type of some grace or
virtue; but what are all the virtues without
Faith and Purity ? Or rather, what virtues can
exist in a vigorous and healthy state without
them ? The type of these, the Lily, lifts her
calm and spotless brow to heaven, ever looking
up, her very meekness seems to speak of high
SAnd if midst holiest words the Lily7s name
Doth written lie,
,More earnest gaze the snow-white blossoms claim
From youthful eye.'
Take her for your companion, friend, and guide,
and you .will not fail to add grace to grace, till,
like her, you can calmly abide the sun or storm:
the ensnaring pleasures, or the sufferings of this
.' And meekly, steadfast, wait the heavenly hand
-That seeks where lilies grow.'
But come, my child, pur'time grows short, and I
would fain, before we part, shew you some of
our pleasures and diversions. You must know

that we, though differing in many respects from
other fairies, are still, in some degree, subject
to the same laws, and acknowledge the govern-
ment of one king, elected by the general consent.
To-day is appointed for a grand hunting-match
for the king and his attendants, and they will
pass by immediately. Unlike, however, to the
hunters among men, their chase is unstained by
cruelty. They only rifle the flowers of their
sweetness-an innocent theft, which it is our
task to repair, and gladly do we yield to them
our choicest treasures."
Even as she spoke there was a faint sound,
as of horns in the distance, which gradually
approached, till at last a swarm of bees flew
gaily by, and settling on the flowers, began
their busy toil. Now darting their probosces
into the sweet store, now sending their trumpet-
call to point to theit companions where they
might ind the richest spoil, and now making
the air fesolnd with their notes of triumph, they
flew hither afd thither, first to one flower, then
to another, and all was bustle, activity, and
erjoyn!liit. These "musical hounds of the Fairy
King" were followed by a number of brilliant
butterflies, on each of which rode a tiny form,

resplendent with gold and jewels. Among these
the king might easily be distingiuished-not
alone by the circlet of gold that crowned his
brow, but also by his air of superior grace and
dignity. Had his dress been plainer than that
of his attendants, "the majesty of Oberon"
would still have been discernible. And now,
to welcome their king, the fairy bells rang out
a merry peal-fairy music filled the air; and
emulous of the brightness of the stars, the glow-
worms lit their lamps of coloured fire, and
produced a brilliant illumination in his honour.
Little Annie gazed with delight on the scene;
then, as the glittering pageant passed away;
she turned round, and was for the first time
conscious that Julia was by her side.
Oh, Julia she exclaimed, "is it not
beautiful ?"
What ?" said. Julia in a fretful tone; "I am
sure I haie seen nothing beautiful yet-only
some weeds and common flowers that one
can see every day-nothing worth looking
"But, Julia, look there at that fiaglificent
throne, how ciuriously it is wrought, and the
diamonds, too, how beautiful! and see, even

now, there is a shower of gold falling close
beside it."
"Throne said Julia, I see nothing but a
common rose-bush growing on some moss-oh!
and how wet it is ; it is all covered with great
drops of dew. Throne-indeed! I think your
eyes must be bewitched; and as for gold, I only
see a heap of withered leaves."
"So it is ever," said the soft voice of the
fairy queen. "The selfish and earthbound
'spirit cannot penetrate beyond the surface. To
the cold hearts and measured intellects of mere
worldlings, we are.but useless weeds; destitute
alike of imagination and of purity of heart,
they look with contemptuous indifference on
the intercourse which finer minds maintain with
us. Leave to them their boasted strength of
mind, and freedom from the delusions of fancy.
They know not that the pleasures they resign
with such indifference would be cheaply pur-
chased by the sacrifice of almost all that the
wold holds dear. But your coinpanion is
impatient to be at home-farewell !"
And once agaih the same soft sweet music
was heard around, and echo responded to the
farewells of the fairies, till the sound grew

fainter and fainter, and at length the last note
died away in the distance, and all was hushed
into silence and repose.
The two little girls set out on their homeward
walk together; but with what different feelings!
Annie was musing on all she had seen and
heard, and her young heart was full almost to
overflowing of love and gratitude. "How
beautiful," she thought, "is the world! and
how full of wonders! and how great is the
Goodness that has permitted me, a helpless
child, to see a portion of these wonders. Well,
indeed, may I say:
'Thou who hast given me eyes to see
And love this sight so fair,
Give me a heart to find out Thee,
And read Thee everywhere.' "

And then she remembered that the fairies had
told her it was on account of her gentleness,
and meekness, and obedience, and truth, that
she had been allowed to see them; and she
thought how much she owed to the kind parents
and friends who had so early trained her in the
paths of piety and goodness. "Had they not
been so careful of me," she thought, "I might
now be as unhappy as poor Julia, who. cannot

see any of the beautiful things that -give me
such delight. How grateful I ought to be for
their kindness, and how anxiously should I study
to please them, and fulfil all their wishes!"
While these thoughts were passing through
her mind, Julia walked sullenly by her side,
angry with herself, with Annie, and with all
the world. Vexed and disappointed at not
,seeing any of the beauties Annie had described,
she tried to persuade herself they existed only
in the dreams of her little companion ; but still
she could not help a lingering suspicion entering
her mind, that it was in some way the conse-
quence of her own evil temper and feelings that
they had not been visible to her; and the con-
sciousness that she was to blame; made her still
more cross, till at last she burst into a vehement
accusation against Annie, of having purposely
deceived her, nor could all the assurances of
her companion convince her to the contrary.
Having at last exhausted all the angry words
and reproaches that her passion led her to utter,
she walked on in sullen silence, but took every
opportunity of annoying her companion, and
rendering the walk to her as disagreeable as

At last they reached a little stream, which
they had to cross by a narrow wooden bridge.
Julia had just reached the other side, when,
on a brier that overhung the stream, she per-
ceived a beautiful butterfly, and eagerly put
out her hand to seize it.
"Oh, spare the pretty butterfly!" cried
Annie, laying her hand upon her arm. But
Julia shook off her hold ; and the moment's
delay saved the insect, which now flew away.
Filled with rage and anger, she turned to
Annie, who was still standing on the plank,
and exclaiming: "Take that for your med-
dling !" struck her with all her force. Totally
unprepared for the blow, poor Annie lost her
balance; there was a splash-a faint cry-and
the waters closed over her !
Horror-stricken at her own act, Julia re-
mained for an instant as if rootedto the spot,
and then rushed precipitately away to hide
herself in the thickest part of the wood.
For some time she ran without looking where
she was going; and at last, faint and exhausted
with terror and fatigue, she flung herself on the
ground, and sobbed aloud. She had not lain
there long before she heard a voice say: "Ha,

ha! so this is the little girl who wished to
see us, and who was not afraid to come into our
presence after having destroyed many of the
fairest of our kind!"
Nay," said another voice; "can you wonder
at her destroying us, when she did not spare
those whom she knew had life, when even the
industrious ant and the harmless fly fell victims
to her fury ?"
"Nay more, sisters," said a third voice, "our
king himself but narrowly escaped being crushed
to death, to satisfy her caprice, as he rode on his
favourite butterfly. But even this is nothing;
has she not just now attempted to murder her
best friend-the only one of her companions who
still retained any regard for her, who had never
injured her, but had always tried to promote
her happiness ? Say, sisters, what shall we do
to her ?"
"Pinch her!" said one. "Beat her!" cried
another. Call the bees, and the wasps, and the
other insects, to revenge the harm she has so
often done them!" exclaimed a third. "Send
for our guards-the thistle, the bramble, and
the nettle!" shouted they all together. "She
has doubted our existence, now we will make

her feel our power;" and they immediately
began to carry their threats into execution,
and pinched, and beat, and scratched, and
stung her, till she was nearly mad with pain
and fright. And in this situation we will
leave her, and return to little Annie.
When she felt herself falling into the stream,
she tried at first to cry aloud for help, but the
water soon choked her utterance, and she sank
to the bottom, thinking, with intense agony, of
the grief her loss would occasion her parents.
At that instant, however, and even before she
had time to breathe a prayer that she might
yet be spared to them, she felt herself borne
up, as if by unseen hands, and a voice whis-
pered: "Fear not!" and the next instant her
hands came in contact with something on
the surface of the water, which she grasped
convulsively. It was a water-lily. Too feeble
to support her weight, it gave way with the
effort; but in the moment something bright
and dazzling caught Annie's eye, and, looking
up, she saw the beautiful butterfly fluttering
above her, and then settling on a bough that
almost touched the water. Exerting all her
remaining strength, Annie grasped the bough,

and by its help drew herself to the shore. As
she lay, faint and exhausted, on the bank, fairy
hands smoothed her tangled hair, and dried
her dripping garments, fairy voices sang her
lullaby, and soothed her into slumber, from
which she awoke refreshed and able to return
home. Julia also at length reached home; and
we will hope that the events of the day were
not wholly without effect upon her, but that she
endeavoured, from time to time, to follow the
example of her little companion; but of this I
cannot speak positively, nor can I say whether
Annie, as she grew up, still maintained her
intercourse with the fairies. These are points
that must be left to the imagination of my
readers; and I would only, at parting, beg to
assure them, that if, like Julia, they give way
to ill-humour and selfishness, they need never
expect to be visited by the fairies, or any good
spirits; but if, like Annie, they are gentle,
obedient, and truthful, though they may not be
able to see the beautiful forms of the Summer
Fairies, .they may be sure that, summer or
winter, waking or sleeping, at all times and
seasons, good spirits will be ever watching over







"WHY do you not ramble on the sea-shore, as
well as on the parterre, and tell us of the
treasures of the deep, and the beauties it
contains ?"
Such, perhaps, are my reader's words to me.
And will you, then, roam with me, not only on
the sea-shore, but beneath the deep waters,
where the foot of man has never trod-where
even science has scarcely penetrated, and imagi-
nation still reigns supreme? Will you, indeed,
follow me even there ? Then listen-
"What hid'st thou in thy tp ure-eaves and cells,
Thou deeply sounding and mysterious main ?"
Such were the words of the song that the

fresh sea-breeze bore, once upon a time, fd
the ears of a little boy named Arnold, as
he stood alone by the sea-shore. Above him
were the towering clifs, some of a dazzling
white, others red, and others again so dark
that little Arnold ised to think they wer6
made of coal. Then there were open downs,
sloping to the edge of the cliffs, and extending
for many miles along the coast; sometimes,
too, stretching inwards in a chain of hills,
barren and exposed themselves, but dividing
the country into long, narrow, sheltered valleys;
with clumps of trees dotted about them. Each
clump, too; concealed a farmhouse; and in
every farmhouse there was a hearty welcome
for Arnold. Often had he made one of a merry
party to go nutting in the woods, or mush-
room-gathering in the fields; and greatly did
they enjoy all the inconveniences of having tea
out of doors-boiling their kettle gipsy-fashion,
and begging milk at the nearest farm; some-
times, indeed, the fire would not light, and the
triangle of sticks intended to support the kettle
would tumble down; sometimes, too, the papas
and mammas thought the air cold, and the grass
damp, and insisted on having tea in somd

neighbouring cottage; but these varieties .only
gave an additional charm to the occasion. Then
there were the longer excursions-the real pic-
nics, when they took not only tea, but dinner
too, and went in vans, and gigs, and any
other vehicles they could find; on horseback,
poney-back, or even donkey-back. I have
heard of even a cart being put in requisition.
Well, never mind, they were happy excursions,
and were keenly enjoyed both by young and
old. But we have wandered far away from
our starting-point-the downs. Those beauti-
ful downs! how I wish you could have lain,
as I have so often done for hours, on their
soft green turf! sometimes with book in hand,
but oftener not even pretending to be aught
but thoroughly and entirely idle-watching the
shadows of the clouds as they flitted across the
far range of hills, or gazing at the calm lovely
bay, that lay at my feet, till my very soul was
filled with its beauty. Not a sign of life was
there, save when the sea-gull burst from its
rocky nest, or wheeled in airy circles above my
head; not a sound broke the stillness of the
fair but its mournful cry, and the plashing of
the swell as it broke against the foot of the

rocks beneath-the monotonous, soothing sound
almost lulling me into slumber. Were I ever so
passion-tossed, so agitated by the troubles of
the world, I verily believe that sound would
calm and soothe me. .Al1 was peaceful and still
during the hot summer-day; the boats in the
bay rocked lazily to and fro; even the revenue-
cutter rode at anchor, her sails furled and her
flag drooping, and no signs of life to be seen on
And far out upon the open sea, far as. the
eye can reach, there is nothing but the vast
expanse of waters. Arnold dearly loved to
watch the sea, especially from the top of the
cliffs, when the wind was stormy and the weather
tempestuous, though sometimes he could hardly
maintain his footing from the violence of
the blast. These, ald many other pleasures,
were his, and he would have thought them ill
exchanged for the pleasures of a town, or even
for those of an inland country, however beauti-
ful; for, remember, that these last were not
wanting; woods were there, and fields. and lanes,
and quiet streams, that wound among the
hills, pursuing the "even tenor of their way"
until they mingled with the mighty ocean,

and field-flowers in as great abundance as any
inland woods and fields could boast. In the
early spring, the downs were purple with
violets, to which succeeded the wild-thyme, and
the orchis, and the dog-rose, and, most beau-
tiful of all, the various kinds of gentian,
the gentianella, and others, whose names I will
not inflict on you; while from the fields and
woody lanes might be gathered a garland,
the description of which would fill a volume.
1But. all this time we have left Arnold
standing beneath the open window, listening
to a song which now introduces us to our
fairy tale.


5' What hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells,
Thou deeply sounding and mysteriQus main ?
Pale, glistening pearls, and rainbow-coloured shells,
Bright things which gleam unreol]ed of and in vai."

THE words still rang in Arnold's ears as he
walked down to the shore. This time he did
not, as w hs his general custom, stroll over the

downs, but pursued his way by the water's
edge, at the foot of the cliffs. The tide
was out, so there was plenty of space for him
to scramble about among the large blocks of
stone that lay thickly strewn on what could
scarcely be called the beach. At last he
came to a place where a long range of
low, black, shelving rocks stretched to a
considerable distance into the sea. At high-
water they were completely covered, and it
was the frequent recurrence of this feature
that rendered the coast so dangerous; but
now, those nearest the shore were quite
dry; while, with a little care, even the
furthest might be attained without wetting the
foot. Arnold scrambled from one to another, and
at last stood at the extreme end. There he
amused himself by trying to detach the limpets
from the rock-a somewhat difficult operation,
as every ohe Who has ever tried it must knot-
and listening to the roar of angry defiance with
which the waves rushed through the ilarrow
channel between the rock on which he was
standing and the next. Sometimes a wave
larger than the others dashed quite over the
rock, wetting his feet, and nearly covering him

"ith spray; nor did he notice that this became
more and more frequent, and that his little
peninsula was rapidly becoming an island; at
last one tremendous wave made him completely
lose his footing, as it swept quite over him, and
almost carried him along with it in its retreating
Course. He cluig to the rock; but it was some
minutes before he could recover from the blind-
ihg effects of the sea-water his dap, too, was
gone, and his hair hung dripping over his face:
When he at last looked up, he was startled at the
change that had taken place around him. The
tide had advanced rapidly, and he was now quite
surrounded by the sea; only the tops of the
rocks remained uncovered, and over even them
the waves perpetually broke, threatening soon
to cover them entirely. The sun, too, was
setting aid gloomy, sqtally-looking clouds were
gathering fast; the wind blew in itfifl gists
from the shore, and all betokened a stormy night.
Arnold looked round With a fear almost amount-
ing to despair; he could not swim, and, besides;
he wo1ild have dreaded being dashed against
the sharp-pointed rocks; he was sure the watef
would be above his head, even if he could stand
against the violence of the waves. What should

he do? Would no one come to save him?
Perhaps some of the Preventive-men might be
on the shore, and might hear his voice. He
shouted several times as loudly as he could, but
no answer came; and completely subdued, he
sat down, and began to cry.
Suddenly he looked up, and there-close
beside him, was a little boat, hardly large enough
to hold one person, and so fragile-looking, that
Arnold wondered how it ever got there, over the
fierce surf. This wonder increased when' he
examined it more attentively: it seemed more
like a large shell than a boat, and the inside shone
like mother-of-pearl, mingled with a bright and
glittering red. One end was broad, and nearly
flat on the water, and the other tapered to a
point. At the broader end of this singular
little vessel sat a lady, who Arnold could see,
even in the darkening twilight, was surpassingly
beautiful. Her long fair hair, with which were
intermingled shells of the purest white, and
bright-coloured sea-weed hung in thick masses
on her shoulders, and a loose green robe fell in
graceful folds to her feet, and was simply con-
fined at the waist by a string of large pearls.
Her little boat seemed poised on the very crest


of a wave that, the instant before, had threatened
entirely to overwhelm the little point of rock on
which Arnold still found a refuge; and while
its course seemed momentarily arrested, she
stretched out her hand to him, and in a voice
sweeter than any he had ever before heard, sang
the following words:
"The storm rises fast; the wind fills thee with fear;
Look round thee, look round thee, no succour is near !
Then come with me, down
To my palace so fair,
And live with me ever
In happiness there.
There, murmuring waters shall lull thee to sleep;
Where the flowers ever bloom, and the skies never weep.
0 yield to the spell
That is over thee thrown,
And come to the regions
Where storms are unknown;
For the ocean lies calm as an infant asleep,
And winter ne'er visits our home in the deep;
And, hark! how sweet voices
Are singing below-
They charm thee-they lure thee-
With me thou must go!"

The wave approached nearer and nearer,
already he felt its cold touch; he took the
proffered hand, and stepped into the little fragile-
looking vessel. The next instant there was


a rush of waters over him; he struggled to
get free, but he was clasped tightly in the arms
of his conductress; sweet music still rang in
his ears, and seemed to grow closer and more
distinct. He sank lower and lower, and became


Now the dancing sunbeams play,
On the green and glassy sea
Come, and I will lead the way
Where the pearly treasures be.
Come with me, and we will go
Where the rocks of coral grow.
Follow, follow, follow me!
Come, behold what treasures lie
Far below the rolling waves;
Riches hid from human eye,
Dimly shine in ocean's caves;
Ebbing tides bear no delay,
Stormy winds are far away.
Come with me, and we will go
Where the rocks of coral grow.
Follow, follow, follow me!"
-HAIYDN'S Canzonets.

WHEx Arnold again opened his eyes, all
around him was so new and strange, that he

could not comprehend what had happened, or
where he was. Gradually, however, all the
circumstances of his late peril returned to his
mind, and he began to understand that he was
now in the palace to which the fairy-for he
now never doubted that she was one-had
promised to conduct him. He raised himself on
his elbow to look for her, and found that she
was sitting by his side.
"Where am I?" he exclaimed. "What is
this place ? and how came I here ?"
"This is my palace, Arnold," she replied.
"Do you not like it as well as the dwellings of
men ? I rescued you from the fierce and angry
waves, and brought you here, to live with me in
safety and happiness."
"But who are you, then ?" returned Arnold;
"are you a fairy ?"
She smiled as she replied: "No; I am not
a fairy, though one of a race different from
yours. We dwell beneath the mighty ocean,
where few of the inhabitants of the land have
ever ventured, and those only for brief, I might
almost say momentary periods. Nor have they
ever penetrated beyond the outskirts of our
dominions; to those parts where the water is

shallowest, and which we abandon to them,
laughing to scorn the puny efforts of those who
boast so much of their skill in diving to what
they vainly think the utmost depths of the
sea. But we have the power, under certain
restrictions, of conferring our nature upon men.
Seldom, and at rare intervals, has this power
been exercised; but I am willing to exert it in
your favour, if, as I cannot doubt, you, on your
part, are willing to accept my offer."
But Arnold began to weep bitterly, and said:
"And shall I then never see my father or
mother again, or my little brothers and sisters ?
Must I never again behold the light of the
blessed sun, or visit the beautiful hills and
valleys I love so well ? Oh! do not be so cruel
as to keep me here."
"I will not keep you here against your own
consent," returned the sea-maid; "but reflect
on the danger from which I rescued you;
are you not bound to me by every tie of grati-
tude? I might, it is true, compel your sub-
mission, for you belong to me of right as a
waif on my dominions. 'Look at the various
objects round you, all have become my lawful
prizes from the ocean. That pile of silks and

cushions on which you are lying, was once the
property of an Indian princess; those jewels
were destined to deck the brows of the high-
born and wealthy of your own nation, now
they have found a common home, and adorn my
palace beneath the waves. Consider, too, the
situation in which I found you; is it not at least
better to live with me here, than to meet the
death which would have been inevitable had I
not rescued you? However, I shall give you
three days to determine, during which time
I will shew you some of the wonders of my
kingdom, for know that I am a princess among
the inhabitants of the sea, and therefore the
more able to gratify your inclinations, whether
they be for power or for wealth. Come, I will
first conduct you through part of my palace."
She then led the way through many spacious
and lofty apartments, the smallest of which was
well worthy to be the presence-chamber of the
noblest monarch upon earth. The walls and
ceilings were entirely covered with carvings,
which, in their delicacy and finish far surpassed
the utmost achievements of Gothic art. And
who were the architects of this magnificent pile?
Was it formed by the Titans of old? or does


there still exist, far in the depths of the sea, a
race of supernatural beings, with power to heap
rock upon rock, and at the same time, grace and
dexterity sufficient for the perfecting of such
minute and ornamental details ? Not so:
"Frail were their frames, ephemeral their lives,
Their masonry imperishable."

Insignificant in appearance beyond the generality
of living things, who can equal their labours ? who
"Out of water brought forth solid rock ?"
"Compared with this amazing edifice,
Raised by the weakest creatures in existence,
What are the works of intellectual man ?
His temples, palaces, and sepulchres,
Dust in the balance, atoms on the gale,
Compared with these achievements in the deep;
Were all the monuments of olden time,
Egypt's gray piles of hieroglyphic grandeur,
That have survived the language which they speak,
Preserving its dead emblems to the eye,
Yet hiding from the mind what these reveal;
The pyramids would be mere pinnacles;
The giant statues, wrought from rocks of granite,
But puny ornaments for such a pile
As this stupendous mound of catacombs,
Filled with dry mummies of the builder worms."

Such was the tenor of Arnold's thoughts as he

followed the mermaid through a succession of
gorgeous rooms. At last she led the way
into one which, beautiful as were the rest, far
surpassed them in grandeur; and on the en-
trance to which Arnold stood entranced in silent
admiration. The walls were of the purest white,
inlaid with brilliant scarlet four hundred
pillars of exquisite beauty and proportion
upheld a lofty dome, from the centre of which
was suspended a carbuncle of such wonderful
size and brilliancy, that it sufficed to light the
whole of that spacious hall. The floor was like
the shingly beach, except that, instead of
pebbles, it was entirely composed of precious
stones, which sparkled and glittered, contri-
buting by their lustre to diffuse the light
throughout. In the centre was placed a throne,
composed of mother-of-pearl, which seemed to
reflect the hues of all the precious stones beneath
and around it.
How do you like my throne, Arnold ?" said
his conductress; "this is where I sit in state;
and you shall have one precisely similar, unless,
indeed," she added, with a smile, "you can
suggest any improvement, in which case you
shall have it made after your own directions.


But now you must see my treasuries. All the
doors you see round the hall, except the four
entrances-that by which we came in, and
three similar at the different points of the
compass-lead to store-houses, which you can
examine at your leisure by the aid of this
key, which I will leave with you. When you
are tired, you have only to strike three blows
on the large shell that stands by the throne,
and one of my attendants shall conduct you
back to me."
She then unlocked one of the doors; and left
him. What a sight presented itself to Arnold's
eyes when the door opened! Diamonds, rubies,
emeralds, aqua-marines-in fact, every variety
of precious stone, of a size larger than he had
ever seen before, lay piled in heaps, or scattered
on the floor at random. He held his breath
with astonishment and delight, and the thought
passed through his mind, And all these may
be mine!"
But just then he thought some one called
him; he looked round, but saw no one, and
yet he still heard the voice. "Arnold, Arnold!"
it said; "listen to me!"
"But where are you ?" he cried.

"Here, behind you," said the voice; "turn
round, and you may possibly see me."
And what Arnold did see must be reserved
for another chapter.


WHEN Arnold turned towards the spot whence
the voice proceeded, he could at first see
nothing but a heap of precious stones, some
of the largest of which seemed here to have
been placed close together, with rather more
regard to their effect on the eye of a casual
spectator, than was usually displayed in their
arrangement. On looking more attentively,
however, he perceived a lady standing by the
stones, from which, owing to the peculiarity
of her appearance, she could scarcely be dis-
tinguished. She was very small, and looked
as if she were entirely composed of the many-
coloured rays of light that fell on the floor and
all around. You would have said her face was

shadowy, only the word would seem scarcely
applicable to that which was all light; and yet
there was a dim uncertainty about it-a sort
of changing, flickering variety of expression as
well as of feature, that would have made you
instinctively recur to this as the only appro-
priate term. Do you ever imagine to yourself
faces in the moonbeams, when they pour in one
glorious flood of light over hill and valley, wood
and sea, gilding alike both town and hamlet,
ruined castle, and village-spire, with a beauty
that seems almost unearthly? If you have
ever done this, will understand what
I mean by the shadowy light that seemed part
of the very nature of Arnold's mysterious com-
panion. Her dress, too, seemed as if it had
been stolen from a rainbow at the very moment
when its hues were melting away in the sur-
rounding atmosphere: all the prismatic colours
were there, but so softened and subdued, that
there was nothing gaudy about them; but they
looked as they were, merely varieties of light.
She spoke again in a low, but clear and thrilling
tone, which went to the heart of her listener.
"Arnold," she said, "you are dazzled by the
splendour of all around you; for these poor

stones, and for the sake of their beauty, which
would soon cease to afford you pleasure, you are
tempted to forsake earth's true treasures-the
love and kindness which have hitherto been so
fully yours. Of those of a still higher nature,
you are perhaps as yet unable to understand
the full value; but believe me when I say, that
on earth you might form for yourself a diadem,
the smallest gem in which would cause the
brightest here to sink into insignificance."
"These are very beautiful," said Arnold; I
do not think anything can be more beautiful."
That may be your opinion now," returned his
companion; "but if you knew more of them,
you might perhaps alter your opinion. Come,"
said she, taking up a large diamond, "you
shall see something of their history, and
then you will be better able to judge.
This is one of the most beautiful here;
now, if you will look steadily into it, I have
the power to cause different scenes connected
with it to be successively represented in it as
in a mirror."
Arnold looked as he was desired; at first,
all was clear, but gradually various figures
appeared, which became more and more

distinct,* till he could see how each was
employed. A number of men, chiefly copper-
coloured, or nearly black, were digging beneath
a scorching sun. They were almost naked, and
taskmasters stood over them, urging them on by
menaces, and even blows. Presently, they put
the loose earth they had dug into large troughs,
and poured a quantity of water on it. When
this had been several times repeated, bright
and sparkling stones appeared amongst the
sand, and Arnold now saw that the men were
searching for diamonds. Then, the vigilance
of the overseers was redoubled, and it was
painful in the extreme to see the cruelty and
oppression they practised on the unfortunate
beings under their superintendence. Once,
however, one of these overseers looked
round, attracted by some slight incident
near him, and in that interval, momen-
tary as it was, one of the men found and
secreted a diamond of unusual size. Without
pausing to reflect whether this were not in

Dr Du's celebrated conjuring-stone or crystal, in which
he professed to shew pictures of future events to those
who consulted him, may still be seen in the British

reality a theft, Arnold uttered an exclamation
of joy; but it was quickly repressed by the
fear, that what had just passed might be dis-
covered, and additional punishment inflicted
on the unfortunate delinquent. Just, however,
as he was anxiously waiting the result, the
whole clouded over, and in a few seconds the
stone resumed its wonted transparency. Arnold
turned, in much disappointment, to his com-
panion, but she signed to him to continue silent,
and on looking again at the diamond, he saw
that a fresh scene was represented in it.
There was a small room, unfurnished, as it
appeared, but with the floor nearly covered
with bales of merchandise, except in one corner,
in which a man, whom Arnold concluded to be
the merchant, was sitting on a pile of carpets.
He held a long nargileh pipe with one hand,
and was smoking with great dignity and gra-
vity, only pausing occasionally to reply, as it
seemed, to the observations of the only other
occupant of the room, who was seated on a
similar pile of carpets close by, and in whom,
though now very smartly dressed, Arnold recog-
nised the successful purloiner of the diamond.
He now held it in his hand, and seemed to be

displaying its beauties to the merchant, as he
turned it round and round, and held it up to
the light; presently, the merchant took out
of a small box beside him a pair of scales, in
which he placed the diamond, and carefully
weighed it. Arnold noticed, however, that he
selected the weights with great care from a
number apparently of the same size; and from
the' furtive glances he cast on the seller of the
diamond, and his evident unwillingness to let
him examine them more closely, he felt convinced
that they were in reality heavier than they
professed to be, and that the merchant intended
to cheat his companion. Presently, he drew
from the pile on which he was sitting a bag of
money, which he offered to the diamond-seller,
and which the latter seemed at first disposed
to reject; but the arguments of the merchant
at last prevailed, and the diamond was trans-
ferred to him in exchange for the money. Both
parties were so intent on their bargain, that
they did not see the window for a moment
darkened, and the shadow of some one looking
in thrown on the floor; but Arnold did, and he
even caught a momentary glimpse of a man's
face, as he turned away from the window.

The scene now changed to one that appeared
to Arnold's eyes one of the most beautiful pic-
tures he had ever seen. It was a group of palm-
trees beneath a cloudless sky; bright flowers
grew beneath their shade; and on one side was
a ruined temple, whose broken columns were
twined with creepers, forming, in many in-
stances, new and more splendid capitals to
the headless shafts. Gorgeous plants hung
overhead, while beneath them the pome-
granate, myrtle, and oleander mingled their
blossoms in emulous fragrance, and the prickly
pear seemed to forbid the too near approach
of intruders by an almost impervious wall. A
clear spring of water rose close to the temple,
and it was perhaps this circumstance, as much
as the beauty of the spot, that had induced the
merchant and his attendants to seek shelter
there during the heat of the day. They had
just concluded their noontide meal, and were
now reposing in the shade, till the coolness
of evening should enable them to resume their
journey. One of the party had been set to
watch, but the almost irresistible drowsiness
produced by the mid-day heat soon overpowered
him, and after several ineffectual attempts to

rouse himself, he, too, slept soundly. Then,
when all was quiet, several men stole from
their hiding-place in the ruined temple; they
were a party of robbers, led by the man whom
Arnold had seen looking in at the window.
Quietly and stealthily they began to examine
the baggage, appropriating to themselves all
that was valuable in it; even the large bales
were removed with a celerity that shewed them
to be adepts in the art of plundering. Before
they had completed their task, however, the
merchant awoke: on seeing his unwelcome
visitants, he attempted to call to his attend-
ants, but his cries were arrested, ere he could
give them full utterance, by one of the thieves,
who threw a noose round his neck, and, at the
same instant, sprang upon him, throwing him
again on the ground, whence he had half-risen.
But here Arnold covered his face with his
hands. "I cannot-no, I cannot look again !"
he cried; "take me away, I never wish to see
a diamond agaii !"
Nay, you must see the whole," returned his
companion; "but we will pass quickly on. Now,
look again."
Arnold obeyed, and saw a number of men

fighting desperately in the narrow streets of
what appeared to be a mountain-fortress, the
gates of which had just been forced. After a
short but severe struggle, victory declared itself
on the side of the invaders; and their leader,
seating himself in the gateway, caused the
prisoners to be brought before him. They were
several of the robbers who had plundered the
merchant, and their chief was the man Arnold
had seen through the window. But few words
passed between them and their captors, and
they were hurried away, either to a dungeon,
or more probably to death. As they were led
off, however, the chief said something to his
conductor which caused him to stop, and, after
a short delay, he was again led before the
hostile leader. Here a more lengthened colloquy
took place, which ended in the captive's being
conducted in an opposite direction to the rest,
and by a way which he himself pointed out.
Presently, he returned, holding the diamond,
which he presented to his conqueror, who
seemed, on the receipt of it, to give him his
liberty, for all around made way for him, and
he passed through the gate, and disappeared
in the distance.

And now, again, the scene changed, and
Arnold saw a hideous idol, whose temple was
literally strewn with the gifts of its worshippers.
It had only one eye; but this was formed by
the great diamond, which had been presented
by one of its adorers-possibly the warrior in
whose possession Arnold had last seen it. Two
priests attended in the temple, taking it in turn
to watch by the idol day and night. They had
a servant to perform the menial offices of the
temple, who feigned great devotion to their
views; but Arnold could see that whenever
their attention was otherwise engaged, he was
entirely occupied with examining the diamond,
as if he were considering how to get it into his
possession. It was evident, too, that he was
not a countrymen of theirs, but a European;
and he looked like a sailor. I will not shock
you by detailing all the enormities Arnold
saw committed in this temple; suffice it to
say, that the sailor watched his opportunity,
and at length murdered both the priests, and
fled, carrying with him the diamond. The
scene then changed to a ship, on board of
which was the sailor with his ill-gotten prize.
Whilst all was wrapped in security, and the

voyage prospering well, the ship struck on a
rock. In an instant all was hurry and confu-
sion; the captain alone was calm, and, by his
self-possession, soon succeeded in restoring order.
The majority of the sailors worked under his
direction with a hearty spirit, that shewed the
confidence they had in his judgment; but a
few-among whom was the murderer with his
diamond-stealthily lowered one of the boats,
and placing in it what they thought was neces-
sary for their preservation, got into it them-
selves, and rowed away, thinking that by their
selfish conduct they had insured their own.
safety. But in vain; morning dawned, and
shewed the ship injured, indeed, but still
with every prospect of being speedily got
off the rock, and able to pursue her course
in safety: gradually she faded from Arnold's
sight, and in her stead appeared the little boat,
buffeted by the waves. At last one, stronger
than the rest, broke over them, the boat cap-
sized, and all were drowned.
Arnold had now for some time been sobbing
with mingled terror and distress, but he had
been unable to avert his eyes from the frightful
scenes before him. "Are you satisfied," asked

his companion, "or shall I shew you similar
scenes of fraud and violence in the histories of
some others of these beautiful stones ?"
Oh, no, no! cried Arnold vehemently; I
never wish to look upon one again. I shall
never think them beautiful more."
"Nay, say not so," replied she; '"they are in
truth most beautiful, and many will rank among
the wonders of Almighty Power. But is their
acquisition worth all this ? Is it ever worth
while, for the sake of a few sparkling baubles,
which can merely please the eye, and of which
you would soon tire, to give up all the dear ties
of home and kindred, or even the many beau-
tiful things you may find close to your own
dwelling ? Are not the drops of dew in your
favourite glen more beautiful than diamonds,
and would you find as much pleasure in gazing
in solitary magnificence on these jewels, as in
hunting for flowers in the fields and lanes with
your little sister ?"
"Oh, no, no !" cried Arnold again. "Tell me,
good, kind fairy, how I may get away from this
place ?" and as he spoke, his sobs redoubled.
Fear not," said she; if you are resolute in
refusing all the offers and persuasions of your


hostess, you shall again behold your home; but
remember, Arnold, yield neither to her promises
nor her threats, for the slightest compliance will
be fatal. Three days must elapse before your
final decision, therefore be firm and resolute.
And now you had better return into the great
hall, and summon her attendants to lead you
back to her presence."
Arnold obeyed, and striking the shell as he
had been directed, was soon joined by one of
the attendant mermaids, who conducted him
back to the room he had first seen, and where
their mistress awaited his arrival.


'How sweet to dance with gliding feet
Along the level tide so green,
Responsive to the cadence sweet
That breathes along the moonlight scene 1
And soft the music of the main
Rings from the motley tortoise-shell,
While moonbeams o'er the watery plain
Seem trembling in its fitful swell.

How sweet, when billows heave their head,
And shake their snowy crests on high,
Serene in Ocean's sapphire-bed,
Beneath the tumbling surge to lie;
To trace, with tranquil step, the deep,
Where pearly drops of frozen dew
In concave shells unconscious sleep,
Or shine with lustre, silvery blue !
SThen all the summer sun, from far,
Pour through the wave a softer ray;
While diamonds in a bower of spar,
At eve shall shed a brighter day.'
-LEYDEN'S Mermaid.

ARNOLD slept that night on a far more luxu-
rious couch than he had ever reposed on before,
but his rest was broken and disturbed. He had
returned to the mermaid, prepared to distrust
all she said, and to resist all her temptations;
but her allurements and blandishments insen-
sibly took effect on his mind, and he at last
almost ceased to think of aught beyond the
enjoyment of the moment. She spoke of
the pleasures that would be his if he con-
sented to remain with her; of the delights of
gliding through the still waters beneath the
summer sun, whose rays would have power to
cheer, but not to scorch them; or of sporting

in the bright moonbeams on the surface of the
waves, when all the dwellers upon earth should
be wrapped in slumber; and, as she spoke, the
charm of her voice and manner seemed greater
even than the pleasures she described. Then
Arnold's resolution faltered, and he could
scarcely summon up courage to repeat his
refusal, when she somewhat abruptly asked
him if all he had seen and heard would not
induce him to quit his home on the cold, bleak
earth, for the riches and happiness that might
be his beneath the sea. And the mermaid saw
the impression she had produced, and smiled
in anticipated triumph, secure of the effect of
another day; she then conducted him to his
couch, and saying her voice should lull him to
sleep, commenced a song of magic beauty,
that gradually soothed him into forgetfulness,
and mingled with his dreams long after he was
insensible to all external objects.
But in the silent watches of the night came
other thoughts-thoughts of home and of
kindred, and of all that he had hitherto held
dear-others, too, dimly present as yet, indeed,
to his mind, but recurring again and again
with ever-increasing pertinacity, and causing

him to wonder whether, if the pleasures prof-
fered to him should in truth far outweigh all
those he could meet with on earth, he should
even then do well to accept them.
For Arnold had some faint remembrance of
having heard that this life was a warfare; and
though he had no very clear idea of the nature
of the strife, there was something in his heart
that told him that a life of slothful ease and
pleasure would not have power to satisfy all the
cravings of his nature. It was in vain that he
repeated: But if I am happy, what more can
I require ?" The idea was dawning upon his
mind, and acquiring fresh strength with every
effort he made to shake it off, that happiness-
that is, our own individual selfish happiness-is
not our being's end and aim."
Bewildered with these thoughts, he again fell
asleep, but it was only to dream of the occur-
rences of the day. Again he seemed to stand
beneath the open window, and listen to the
"What hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells,
Thou deeply sounding and mysterious main?"
And then they seemed to change:

" Give back the lost and lovely! those for whom
The place was kept at board and hearth so long;
The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom,
And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song!"
And so the song proceeded, ending with the
pathetic invocation:
"Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee!
Restore the dead, thou sea!"
The dead! Yes; he remembered shuddering
at those words when he first heard them; and
now there came a feeble, confused remembrance
that this verse might in some way be applicable
to himself; and then, with one of the sudden
transitions so common in dreams, he was sailing
in the little boat he had seen represented in the
diamond, with the murderer for his companion.
Again the storm rose around him-that to which
he had actually been exposed, blending in his
imagination with that he had only seen by
magic art. Again he seemed to sink beneath
the waves; but this time he felt himself dragged
down by the encircling arms of the mermaid,
whose face, before so beautiful, was now almost
fiendlike in malignant expression. With a
wild cry of terror, he awoke; and it was
long before he was sufficiently composed to sink

to sleep again. When he did, it was only to
dream of the various- incidents he had seen
represented in the diamond. One by one, each
appalling scene again passed before him; but
with this difference, that he now fancied himself
one of the actors. Sometimes as the murderer,
sometimes as his victim; as the slave working
under the control 6f a cruel taskmaster; as the
merchant overreaching one whom he considered
too ignorant to detect the fraud ; as one of
the robbers fighting desperately for life; and
in every situation experiencing a degree of
horror and misery that nothing could surpa.s.
Towards morning, however, his slumbers be-
came more tranquil, and just before a-waking,
he dreamed that he was once more at home.
Close to ihe house in which he lived, there
was a groiip of trees, in which was a rookery;
and under the shade of those trees Arnold
now fancied. himself lying, with the rooks
flying above his head to and from their
nests, cawing in an important, dignified tone,
their hoarse voices mingling with the plash
of the sea upon the beach, which was only a
few yards distant. Then he thought that
his mother sat beside him, and presently she

began to sing, in her low soft voice, which
seemed as if no passion had ever marred its
tones; and as he listened, Arnold thought, as
lie had often done before, that no one else sang
half as sweetly. But then he awoke; the
murmur of the waves still sounded in his ear,
but his mother's voice, where was it ? Alas it
was only the mermaid's tones that had mingled
with his dreams; and Arnold buried his face in
his pillow, and wept.
He was roused from the indulgence of his
grief by a summons from his hostess. He
found her in a room he had not yet seen; the
walls and vaulted roof were of mother-of-pearl,
the coldness of which was relieved by being
thickly studded with emeralds, and by a floor
of deep red jasper. In the centre was a beauti-
ful fountain, close to which a sumptuous repast
had been laid. The evening before, Arnold
had partaken without scruple of the different
viands offered to him, but he now resolutely
refused all but a small portion of the plainest
fare he could find, saying to himself: I
must eat to preserve my life while I am
in this place; but I will only take the
simplest food, and as little as possible, as I

do not know what spell may lurk in these
For some time the mermaid tried to overcome
his determination; but finding her efforts
useless, she said, with a smile: "You have not
told me how you like my summer-chamber,
Arnold; but perhaps your admiration will be
more excited by the view from the windows;"
and she rose, as she spoke, and led the way to
one of them.
Arnold perceived with surprise that it looked
out upon a lovely garden, with trees, and flowers,
and lawns apparently of the softest and deepest
green moss. The flowers were of all hues-deep
scarlet, and crimson shaded to the palest pink;
purple emulating the brightness of the ame-
thyst; orange, vying with the glowing colours
of the pomegranate; and even the purest white.
Arnold was very fond of flowers, so he was
delighted with this sight; but when he gladly
accepted the mermaid's proposal, that they
should walk for a time in the garden that so
pleased him, he looked in vain for any of his
accustomed favourites, and missed the sweet
scent of the violets and roses of his native land.
Even the trees were only gigantic sea-weed, and

the lawn he was walking on felt moist and
slippery, and very different from the short crisp
turf on his beloved downs. Still, it was all
very beautiful, and he expressed his admiration
in terms that fully satisfied his conductress, who
then led him to a part of the garden where
were arranged what seemed at first only another
kind of flowers, as beautiful as the rest; but
Arnold had before seen what are called sea-
anemones; and he knew, that though apparently
only flowers, they were in reality living and
breathing animals. Those he had been in the
habit of seeing, though varying in colour, all
agreed in one particular-that of being encircled
by small bright blue protuberances, which gave
them the appearance of being set round with
turquoises. These he soon distinguished from
the rest; but there were so many other varieties,
that he could willingly have passed the whole
day in examining them. His conductress, how-
ever, told him that he had so much to see, that
he must not linger, so he somewhat reluctantly
accompanied her back to the palace.
The rest of that day was spent in seeing some
of the many treasures and curiosities belong-
ing to the mermaid; there were bright and

beautiful shells of every colour, and varying in
size from that containing a fish "capable of
supplying a hundred and twenty-seven men with
a good meal," to some so minute as to be hardly
discernible by the naked eye. Pearl mussels lay
in immense heaps, and no one seemed to think
it worth while to rob them of their precious
contents, which, indeed, were scattered so
lavishly about the palace that they no longer
seemed of value; and one immense room was
filled with cloth made from the silky fibre of
the pinna, in the shell of one species of which
Arnold recognized the little boat in which he
had first seen the mermaid.
There was one violet-coloured shell, ih parti-
cular, which he thought extremely beautiful,
and he was told that it furnished one of the
many brilliant dyes with which they varied the
naturally somewhat dingy hue of the pinna
silk. Many others there were used for the
same purpose; and others, again, whose chief
beauty consisted in their form; but perhaps
what he most admired of all were the different
kinds of nautilus, which he saw floating by
with oars and rudder, and their sails set, as if
SChama gigas.

they were indeed miniature ships. They were
principally of two kinds-one with a texture
like mother-of-pearl, and the other thinner and
more fragile-looking; but Arnold saw with
surprise that the latter were not all white, as
he had hitherto fancied, but that some were
of a bright, yet delicate pink.*
Altogether, his wonder and delight increased
at every step; but still, when at night the
mermaid asked: Aid noW, Arnold, will yod
not be content to dwell with me, and share my
treasures ?" he answered: Nay, take me home
again, for that is dearer to me than all ybur
Upon this, the mermaid's brow grew dark,
and the expression of her face became almost as
he had seen it in his dream, as she exclaimed i
"Foolish boy, do you, then, defy my power?
Hitherto, you have seen only the benefits
that I can bestow; to-morrow, you shall see
some of the terrible punishments I am able to
inflict oh those who offend me, and then we
shall see if you dare to brate my vengeance.!"
The pink Argonaut is one of the rarest of shells. Two
were in the possession of Lamarck, and may now probably be
in Paris.

It was not without fear, therefore, that Arnold
approached the mermaid the next morning; but
she seemed to have forgotten her anger, and
smiled on him as graciously as ever, when she
asked him if he were tired of surveying her
treasures. Pleased to see her good-humour,
he expressed his willingness to be guided by
her in the choice of objects for the day's
inspection. So she led him to a spacious
reservoir, filled, as she told him, with the various
kinds of fish most esteemed by the dwellers in
the sea. There Arnold remarked several kinds
of fish he had been accustomed to partake of, but
had never expected to behold alive; and some,
also, which he had occasionally seen caught
by the fishermen near his home; but even
these presented a very different appearance
when sporting fearlessly in their native
element, to that which they bore when half-
dead with pain and fright, and exhausted
by their exposure to the air, and their con-
stant struggles against the net: and Arnold
had never thought that any fishes could
display the brilliant colours of those which he
now saw. There were many more, entirely un-
known to him, and these he watched with great

interest and curiosity. Suddenly, he thought he
saw a considerable bustle and excitement among
the fish nearest to the place where he was stand-
ing-the smaller ones, especially, fled away,
apparently in great terror. For some little time
he could not perceive what had caused all this
commotion; but presently there advanced from
the shelter of a rock, beneath which it had lain
concealed, a creature so hideous that Arnold no
longer wondered at the terror its presence
produced. It had an awkward-looking mis-
shapen body; but what made it so especially
frightful was its head, which was furnished with
a beak like that of a bird, and eight long arms,
which it was spreading about in all directions,
as if to catch its prey. The smaller fishes fled
affrighted in all directions.
"What a horrible creature!" said Arnold;
"how can you allow it to remain in your
reservoir, destroying the other fish as it
does ?"
"It is rather inconvenient at times," replied
the mermaid, "but I have generally a sufficient
quantity of each fish to allow of its depreda-
tions; and, besides, the monster-as you call
it-is very useful in a variety of ways. Were it

only for the ink, it would be worth keeping,
but its flesh is excellent eating; and, indeed,
the ink itself is esteemed by us a great
delicacy.* But if you are alarmed at this,
what would you say to the gigantic species of
the same fish which I could shew you ? I will
not do so, however, at present, as it may expose
you to great danger, until you have acquired the
same power over the sea that we possess. Let us,
however, retire to my favourite room, and I will
relate to you some particulars concerning
Arnold would willingly have lingered by
the side of the reservoir, but he was afraid of
displeasing his hostess, and followed her. Many
and marvellous were the tales she told him,
and he trembled as he listened; for though she
never expressed it in words, she constantly
intimated that the terrible creatures of which
she spoke, might become the instruments of her

The Sepia, or Cuttle-fish, is said to be very good to eat,
and some writers suppose that the famous black broth of
Sparta was composed of it. It is, however, better known as
producing the colour which bears its name, and for its large
bone, which is sometimes used as a dentifrice, and from
which pounce is prepared.


vengeance upon him, if he refused to remain
with her. She told him of combats she herself
had witnessed between the larger cuttle-fish and
animals, or even men; of their attacking boats,
and dragging several of those within overboard,
in spite of their utmost resistance ; of others, of
a size so gigantic, that a shoal of them could
effect the destruction of several ships of the line
at once; and, finally, of the enormous Kraken,
which appears at intervals in the Norwegian
seas, resembling a floating island covered with
sea-weeds and coral, of a quarter of a mile in
diameter, and with arms equalling in height the
masts of a ship.*

Many marvellous and fabulous accounts, such as
those told to Arnold by the mermaid, have been given
of the colossal cuttle-fish; the existence of the Kraken
or Korven is very generally believed in Norway, though
there is every reason to suppose without foundation. We
are told of a modern French naturalist, who is inclined to
suppose that the destruction of the great French ship, the
Ville de Paris, taken by the English during the American
war, together with nine other ships which came to her
assistance on hearing her fire signals of distress, was owing,
not to the storm which accompanied the disaster, but to a
group of colossal cuttle-fishes, which happened at that very
time to be prowling about the ocean beneath these unfortu-
nate vessels." Our readers will find these, and several

These stories led to others of the different
monsters of the deep, among which the Remora
held a prominent place; and Arnold heard with
astonishment of the Roman emperor,* the course
of whose ship was arrested by one of these crea-
tures, which had fastened itself on to the helm.
Then the mermaid led him to a window which
looked, not on the beautiful garden he had seen
the day before, but on the vast sea; and there
he saw great shoals of hungry-looking sharks,
with their jaws gaping, as if in eager expecta-
tion of his being delivered up to them. He
turned cold and faint with terror; and then, as
he looked at the comforts and magnificence by
which he was surrounded, he thought he might
be very well contented to remain where he was,
particularly as, if he refused, he could scarcely
hope to regain his home through such perils.
accounts of a similar nature, including one of a northern
navigator who lost three of his men in the African seas, by a
cuttle-fish seizing them as they were employed in raking the
sides of the vessel, in Polehampton's Gallery of Nature and
Art, vol. v., page 356 to 362.
Caius Caligula. See an extract from Pliny, given at page
508 of the book just quoted. These accounts of the marvel.
lous strength of the Remora, or sucking-fish, are, however,
entirely fabulous, though it can attach itself with wonderful
tenacity to anything that comes in its way.

But the mermaid, in her very eagerness for
success, overreached herself. She led Arnold
through several rooms he had not seen before,
on the pretext of shewing him the whole
of her palace; and then, feigning to have
forgotten something, left him. She promised to
return immediately; but he grew tired of
waiting, and wandered on through an open door.
He found himself in a spacious cave, into which
the sea washed, forming a tiny bay. For a few
moments he felt pleased, for it reminded him of
a little cove a few miles from his home, to which
he had sometimes gone, and also of a cave in
the cliff, into which a week seldom passed
without his scrambling, and he thought that he
must be once more on the land, and that, his
deliverance was near. But these thoughts were
of short continuance, for on looking down, he
perceived that the beach on which he was
standing was composed, not of shingles and
stone, but of bones, bleached and rounded by
the waves, of broken pieces of wood and iron,
and other relics telling too plainly of shipwreck
and death. At that instant there floated in on
the surface of a wave part of a broken mast, and
to it was attached, bound strongly with cords,

the body of a lad not much older than Arnold
himself. He had evidently been dead for some
time, tossed and buffeted about by the waves,
it might be, for weeks; his long fair hair was
entangled with sea-weed; and the creatures of
the deep had fastened themselves on him, and
on the support to which he had bound himself.
Arnold turned from the sight, and fled precipi-
tately from the spot. In his hurry he fell, and
striking against a projecting part of the rock,
broke off a small piece. What was his horror on
discovering that the beautiful coral rock he had
so much admired, was in reality little better
than a sepulchre The piece he had broken off
had been so recently formed, that it had scarcely
hardened, and the architects, still dying
upwards as their labours closed," were distinctly
visible. Was he, then, surrounded by corrup-
tion ? Did the splendid architecture of this fairy
palace in reality consist of myriads of corpses ?
His thoughts reverted to the painful and terrible
scene he had just witnessed, and which, he
doubted not, was recurring in different parts of
the palace, perhaps beneath the very rooms in
which he had lately fancied he could live in
peace and happiness. From that moment the

mermaid's beautiful dwelling appeared to him
nothing but a vast charnel-house, and its splendid
furniture and decorations the fruits of crime and
death. Nothing would now have tempted him
to remain there, and he felt that certain death
would be preferable to sharing riches obtained
by such means.
When his hostess returned, she saw that he
looked pale, and seemed out of spirits; but this
was what she expected from his visit to the
cave, and she congratulated herself, thinking he
would now not dare to persist in his determina-
tion to leave her. She would not, however, ask
him until the appointed time; and the day wore
on, slowly and heavily. When they retired to
rest, she merely said: "Remember, Arnold,
to-morrow morning you must make your final
That night the brilliant fairy he had seen
with the diamond stood by Arnold's bed, and in
her hand she held a string of jewels. Arnold,"
she said, "hitherto you have resisted well and
bravely; have you courage to endure to the
end ? "
Arnold assured her of his determination, and
she continued: "I told you before that you

might on earth acquire a diadem which should
far exceed in brilliancy the stones on which you
were then gazing, and now I have brought you
this. Take it without fear-from me you have
nothing to dread-and wear it as a girdle,
trusting, that in after-years it may be so fitted
and suited to you that it may indeed encircle
you with glory."
As she spoke, she put the chain into Arnold's
hand, and made him observe that on every stone
there was a word.
The first stone was a diamond, and on it was
engraved Repentance; the second, a Sardonyx,
and on it stood Humility; the third was a
Sapphire, and on it was Faith; on the fourth,
which was a Beryl, was the word Purity; on
the fifth, a red Jasper, Charity; and on the
sixth, a Topaz, Holy Life. The seventh was
a Bloodstone, with Courage and Firmness
on it; the eighth, a Garnet, with Constancy
and Fidelity; the ninth, an Amethyst, with
Calmness, Peace of Mind, and Sincerity. The
tenth, a Sardius, bore on it Patience under
Sufering; the eleventh, a Chrysolite, Hope
and Cheerfulness; and the twelfth and last,
a Chrysophrase, Lightfrom Above.

"These are not yet your own, Arnold," said
the fairy, "but they may become so; remember,
however, that it will be only by long and patient
labour; and that acts of yours may so dim their
lustre, that they will be scare ly discernible, and
will at last fade away altogether. And now,
farewell, dear youth. Be constant, and fear
"Well, Arnold," said the mermaid the next
morning, have you decided ? And yet I need
scarcely ask; for I cannot doubt that you have
ere this repented of the folly that led you to
refuse my offer of protection. You will remain
here, and share my riches and pleasure ? Is it
not so ? "and she smiled sweetly, and endea-
voured to draw him towards her, but Arnold
hung back.
"Never!" he said; and his voice, though it
trembled slightly in spite of all his efforts, was
firm and decided in its tones. Never! Nothing
shall ever induce me to stay here a single
instant after I have the power to depart."
"And do you, then, brave my power ?" said
she. "Have you so soon forgotten all you saw
yesterday ?"
"I have not forgotten," replied Arnold. "It

is that very recollection that makes me so
determined. I know not how far your power
over me may extend; but whatever it is, it falls
short of making me a sharer in your crimes;
your threats and your promises are alike
powerless to move me."
A dark expression of rage and hate came over
the mermaid's face. "Nay, then," she said, I
leave you to your fate."
They were standing close to a window, and
as she spoke she pushed it violently open, and
before he guessed her purpose, flung Arnold
from it into the sea; and the next instant he
was struggling with the waves.

When Arnold returned to consciousness, he
was lying in his own little bed, with his mother
bending over him.
"Where am I? What has happened?"
was his first exclamation; and then, as the full
memory of his late peril, and the knowledge of
his present safety, rushed into his mind, he
burst into tears of joy and thankfulness.
You have been in great danger, my child,"
said his mother; "but a merciful Power has
preserved you through all."

"But how did I come home?" he asked
One of the Preventive-men rescued you
from the rocks just as you were about to be
washed away by the sea; you were quite
insensible then, and have been long in recover-
ing; but now, I trust, you will soon be well;
only you must be very quiet, and not talk
But Arnold could not rest till he had told
his mother all that had happened to him; and
seeing that his anxiety to do so only excited
him more than his tale itself would probably do,
she gave him permission to relate his adven-
tures. He told her all; and when he had
finished, he put his hand to where he believed
his girdle to be, intending to shew it to her.
Great was his distress at finding it gone; but
his mother soothed him by telling him that it
might yet be his; that, one by one, he might
Acquire the precious stones composing it; and
that, though invisible to him, she already saw
some of them sparkling faintly round him,
which, she trusted, would go on for ever
increasing in lustre and purity, and, being
joined by others, till at last, as the fairy had


told him, the whole would form a diadem to
adorn his brow for ever.


THE most celebrated diamond-mines are those of Gol-
conda. The first European known to have visited them,
was an Englishman named Methold, in 1622. A few
years after, the celebrated French traveller and lapidary,
Jean Baptiste Tabernier, visited them, and published a
graphic account of all he saw. There are also diamond-
mines in other parts of India; likewise in the island of
Borneo, in Siberia, and very important ones in Brazil.
Some of my readers may have seen the great Koh-i-
noor diamond, which was shewn to the public at the
Great Exhibition of 1851. This is supposed to have
been once the largest in the world, and to have weighed
900 carats ; since-its cutting, however, it weighs only 102
carats. It formerly belonged to the Great Mogul, in
whose possession Tabernier saw it, and during that time
was reduced, by the incapacity of a Venetian diamond-
cutter, to 280 carats. It afterwards passed through the
hands of several Indian princes, always by violence or
fraud; and at last into those of Runjeet Singh, king of
Lahore and Cashmere, from whom it fell to the English
on the annexation of the Punjab.
The largest diamond now known belongs to the Rajah
of Mattan, in Borneo; it is still uncut, and weighs 36.7


carats, or 2 ounces 170 grains troy. The carat, or kirat,
is the name of a small seed used in India for weighing
diamonds: 4 grains make one carat, and 6 carats one
pennyweight; 5 diamond grains are equal to 4 troy
grains. A coal-black diamond, weighing 350 carats, was
exhibited at the Great Exhibition by Mr J. Meyer. The
Orloff, or Grand Russian diamond, weighs 193 carats. It
was the adventures of this diamond that suggested some
of those seen by Arnold in the Submarine Palace.
The Grand Tuscan diamond weighs 1391 carats. The
Grand Duke Peter Leopold is said to have bought it from
a Jesuit for 75,000 scudi, or about 18,750, the Jesuit
having given only a single paolo, or about sevenpence,
for it, on the Piazza di Navona, where it was offered for
sale as a bit of crystal. It is now the property of the
Emperor of Austria, and is valued at 155,682.
The Regent, or Pitt diamond, is considered the most
beautiful diamond in Europe. It originally weighed 410
carats, but was reduced, by cutting, to 137. It was stolen
from the mines of Golconda, and sold for 20,000 to
Thomas Pitt, grandfather of the Earl of Chatham, who
again sold it to the Regent Orleans, on behalf of
Louis XV., for 92,000, reserving to himself the frag-
ments taken off in cutting. It is now valued at double
the sum paid for it. The Star of the South is the largest
diamond yet brought from Brazil; it now weighs 125
carats, and belongs to the king of Portugal. It was
discovered by three Brazilians, condemned to perpetual
banishment to the wildest part of the interior, and who
cheered their exile by the hope of finding some mine, the
discovery of which would procure the revocation of their


sentence. For six years they were unsuccessful, but at
last discovered this diamond in. the bed of a river, made
dry by an unusually excessive drought. It is but seldom
that the history of diamonds presents anything on which
the mind can rest with so much satisfaction as the thought
of these poor men obtaining their liberty by their perseve-
rance. The "Shah of Persia," which takes its name from
having been presented by the Persian monarch to the
Emperor Nicholas, weighs 86A carats, and is remarkable
for its beauty and lustre; but its chief interest arises
from the inscriptions which it bears of the names of three
of its former owners. The Sancy diamond has perhaps a
more romantic history than any other, but it is too long
to be inserted here. The reader will find it, together with
most of the particulars already mentioned, and very many
others, in Gems and Jewels, by Madame de Barrera. It is
said to have weighed 55 carats.
The Nassuck diamond was part of the booty taken by the
army under the Marquis of Hastings, in the conquest of
Decca; it weighs 89 carats lt grain. The Pigott diamond
weighs 49 carats, and is valued at 40,000. About forty
years ago, it was won in a lottery by a young man, who
sold it at a very low price. It was afterwards bought by
the pasha of Egypt for 30,000.
The famous triangular blue diamond, weighing 67A
carats, and estimated at three million francs, disappeared
from aniong the French crown-jewels at the celebrated
robbery in 1792, and has never since been heard of.
Mr Hope's beautiful blue diamond, exhibited in 1851,
weighs 177 grains. Models of many of the most celebrated
diamonds may be seen in the British Museum.


The finest emeralds come from Peru; the best rubies
from Pegu and Ceylon. Beautiful rubies, sapphires, and
oriental amethysts are found in Pegu, Ava, and Ceylon.
Oriental beryls come also from India; the oriental chry-
solite is found only in Ceylon; the best pearl-fisheries are
also on the coast of Ceylon, which also produces, in addi-
tion to the gems already mentioned, the oriental opal, the
asteria, or star stone (a variety of the sapphire), the finest
cat's eyes in the world, topazes, and garnets. The latter,
however, are of inferior quality; the best come from
Pegu. The only mines for the real oriental turquoise are
in Khorassan.