/ 
SEEB-T1M1 AH© HABVIST. 
“ ‘She is quite mad,’ he continued, ‘and 
insists that her husband had discovered a 
a secret by which he could cause pearls to 
grow in the common oyster.’ 
“My imagination had been greatly excited 
by the novelty of the scene, and all that 
night I dreamed of nothing else. The Indian 
"woman’s assertion that her husband could 
grow pearls recurred to my mind as a possi¬ 
bility, and as I formerly studied flowers, 
so I now studied pearls. For years I labored 
to discover the secret; at length I succeeded; 
and here,” he added, taking out a pocket- 
book, “is what will purchase me lands, 
castles, and titles; but first I have returned 
to ask my Margaret if she will accompany 
me to the country where our riches must be 
gained.” 
He was again silent; the storm raged more 
furiously than before. The peasant’s daugh¬ 
ter had sunk on her knees, and with hands 
and eyes raised seemed lost in prayer. 
“What are you doing, Margaret?” said 
Eric angrily. “Choose abetter moment for 
your devotions. Our guest is tired; make 
your bed here, while I conduct him to the 
sleeping-room. ” 
The traveler cast one look of tenderness at 
the maiden, and then followed his host into 
the next apartment. 
Margaret remained sitting by the fire till 
she fell asleep. Some time had elapsed, 
when, starting from a disturbed dream, she 
saw her father with a lantern in his hand 
examining a paper packet, on which was a 
large seal; at the same moment she heard a 
moan, and her name repeated in a faint 
voice. The old man turned, and met his 
daughter’s eyes fixed on him. Springing 
from her seat, she exclaimed,— 
“Father! what means that knife? Gra¬ 
cious God! blood is dropping from the blade. 
Where is the stranger?” 
“Be silent!” he said. “We are rich. Lands, 
castles, titles,—all will now be ours!” 
“Merciful heaven!” cried she, “Where is 
my betrothed? I am the Margaret of whom 
he spoke.” 
Without attending to her words, Eric 
tore open the packet. It contained nothing 
but a written paper. “Is this the treasure 
he talked of?” said he. “Was it for this I 
killed him?” 
“Killed him!” shrieked his daughter,as 
her lover, deathly pale, staggered into the 
room, and sank at her feet. Terror-struck 
at what he supposed to be the ghost of his 
victim, Eric dropped the paper, and rushed 
from the cottage. The dying man tried to 
speak, but the murderer’s knife had struck 
too truly, and blood choked his utterance. 
“Linnaeus!” was the only word she could 
make out as she supported him in her arms; 
with a last effort he took the red case from 
his bosom, and opening it, placed the pearl 
necklace in her hand; his head sunk on her 
shoulder, and in a few moments he ceased 
to breathe. 
On the folloAving morning the mangled 
body of Eric was found at the bottom of a 
precipice .—The New Moon. 
--- 
The eyes of the owl, which cannot bear 
the beautiful sunlight, see at best but gloomy 
objects. Men and women are often owl¬ 
eyed, lamenting over this wicked world, 
and sighing for a better before they have 
learned to know an iota of all the good things 
to be found here. 
Philosophy is very good in its place, but 
while the farmer would be philosophizing 
whether birds were created because there 
were mischievious insects that should be 
destroyed, or whether insects were brought 
forth as food for birds, so as to prevent their 
eating all the corn, some rank weeds might 
grow up and ’choke the corn so that neither 
he, the birds, nor insects would have any¬ 
thing left. Let your philosophy be at least 
of a more practical character than this. 
At an auction sale of miscellaneous goods 
the auctioneer put up a wolf-skin dressing- 
gown and invited bids. An old man in¬ 
spected it closely, seemed to think that 
there was a bargain in it, but yet he hesi¬ 
tated to bid. “Don’t you want that?” 
asked the auctioneer. “Yes, kinder,” was 
the reply. “Then why don’t you bid and 
take it ?” “Well, I’ve bought heaps o’ things 
in dry goods and so on,” . slowly rejoined 
the old man, “and I never yet took home 
anything that the old woman thought was 
worth the price. If I got that ’ere robe for 
a song, she’d grab the skin, pull at one end, 
chaw at the other, and call out: “Cheated 
again—more’n half cotton!’ ’’ 
