he spoke thus she smiled softly and sadly, and often passed her hands over his silvery locks, calling him her dreamer, her poet.

But the day came when, stepping into his boat, Mitry said at parting:

'Wife, you love me?'

'Mitry, do you doubt it?'

'No,' he said, 'I do not. Guard our gem; love it. I go a long journey. When it grows dull I shall return.' Then his wife wept, bitterly, for she knew that she should never see his face again.

In very deed Mitry returned no more. He found rest at last amid the restless ocean, and the stone shone brightly until his wife too left this earth. Her love had never paled.

The descendants of Mitry still possess the gem. With some it burns a fiery rainbow hue; with others it is but a dull whitish mass.

And thus it is in this poor sad world of ours. The hot sun of love must cherish and caress us, must call forth our latent good, our hidden talents, or we too pass through it as dull and lumpish things, no passer-by will ever turn to look upon.

November.

AN

N Oyster lived among his fellows, lodged firmly on a rocky bed under the ocean. He was very young, and had no experience of life, nor had he much conversation with his neighbours. His existence had been tranquil and self-engrossed; nothing outside his shell possessed the slightest interest for him; and within its two smooth walls all his happiness was centred. Twice or thrice daily, at certain hours, he opened the valves of his shell, to admit air into his habitation, and to draw food from the water that penetrated at the same time. This duty over, he once more retired into himself.

What wonder that his neighbours called him unsociable! For though oysters are not given to chattering and visiting, like crabs and lobsters, and many other of the animals who inhabit the sea, still they usually exchange friendly greetings, such as 'Pleasant water, this morning,' or 'My food is excellent to-day,' at these times of opening.

Once or twice lately our young Oyster had been their subject of conversation. It was introduced by an old matron, who gave it as her opinion that it was neither right nor fitting young people should be so selfcontained and unsociable. Youth ought to be cheerful and communicative, and for her part she did not like it; and she wished to know if there were anything at the bottom of it.

'Perhaps he does not think us good enough for his companionship,' ventured a young one timidly.

He was instantly snubbed by the matron who had spoken first.

'Not think us good enough!' she hissed. 'Pray, and what do you think he could see to object to in us, Oysters of good old families, established for generations upon this rock-bed? Would you dare hint that this young whipper-snapper sets himself up for better than his fellows?'

Ah! it's all the same old story-the same old story,' croaked an aged Oyster who lived near, and who was known among the young ones under the disrespectful name of Old Retrospective. 'It's all the same old story, madam. In my time youngsters were not for setting themselves up over their fellows, thinking they could catch better drops from heaven than they; but now, alas! now all is changed. They know everything

best; succeed better in all matters; and-most fearful sign of all-think it likely that even at their first neap-tide heaven will let a large drop fall at once into their open jaws, instead of receiving none at first, or being contented and thankful for small ones, as their fathers were before them. Well, well-only to think of it!'

Whereupon the Oyster, having delivered himself of this tirade, abruptly closed his shell with an angry clack; and all the others did the same, thus showing their respect for his opinion and their contempt for their neighbour.

But he, though his shell had been shut, had heard all they had said, and was pondering some of their words in his mind. They had let fall something he I could not understand. What was neap-tide? what was the drop from heaven he was supposed to think so much about? He would dearly like to be enlightened, but he would not like to ask one of the old Oysters—no, not for the world—nasty, stuck-up things! Well, and if he was a new-comer on this bed, having chosen to settle upon it rather than upon the one farther out to sea, where he had been born, what was he the worse for that, he should like to know?

Altogether, what he had overheard had made him angry as well as very curious; and for the first time

in his life his mind was too disturbed for him to find all his enjoyment within his own walls.

But whom should he consult to explain these mysteries? There was the great difficulty. Perhaps, when all the old Oysters were asleep in their shells, he might catch a young one waking, and ask him. He would try. A few hours later he found that his next-door

neighbour, a young lady rather given to sentimentalise, had opened her shell also at this unusual hour.

'Good evening,' said our friend, in the sweetest voice