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NUMBER 37,
OLMSTEAD & CO., PUBLISHERS.
., For the Companion,
THE PEARL-DIVER’S SLAVE.
BY URS. PH@DE HARMS PHELPS, AUTHOR OF “HOME STORIES.”
Little Sadi was a negro slave boy in Algiers.
._ His master was Zaloun, one of the most daring and
~“ guecessful pearl-divers. During the season of pearl-
fishing, Zaloun never saw the sun rise from his own
dwelling or even from the shore. His was the first
boat in the pearl waters, and it was always moored
there, his diving-stone fastened to his leg to keep
him to the bottom, his oyster-bag at his side, and a
. rope round his waist when the first rays of light
shone on the eastern sky.
Then Zaloun would reyerently kneel and offer up
his prayers for protection from drowning and from
the horrid monsters of the deep, as well as for suc-
cess in his dangerous employment. This done, he
plunged over the side of his boat into the sea to
gather the rare pearl-oysters. » It was only two or
three minutes that he could remain under the wa-
ter. A jerk of the rope around his waist, one end
of which was fastened in his boat, was the signal
that his breath was failing, that he was becoming
exhausted, and wished to be drawn to the upper air.
Sadi always accompanied Zaloun when he went
for pearl-oysters, always helped to work the’ boat,
to make his master ready for his dive, and draw
him up when he made the signal.
This was hard work for such a little boy as he
was, and the more so since there was always so
much danger and anxiety. Too much delay, a little
awkwardness or a mistake might be the means of
losing his master’s life, or upsetting the boat and
losing the lives of. all. .
* Then it was very hard to be waked in the dead
~ of the night, and cailed up to work as Sadi was for
several months together in the diving season.” For
every thing had to be made ready and the boat put
cunder sail in the night, or Zaloun would not be on
, the fishing-ground by daybreak.
‘And after the fishing was over, Sadi had to work
steadily-all the remainder of the day, opening oys-
ter-shells to find the pearls in them—hard work,
and dirty and disagreeable, for a young child!
But there was nothing else for Sadi, Zaloun
“* bad bought him for this work. He was a poor
* lave boy, and he expected to be a slave his whole
life long, and always do just such hard and dis-
agreeable and dangerous work. -He expected that
when he should bé old enough he should be obliged
to plunge to the bottom of the sea among the mon-
_ eters, there to gather pearl-oysters as his master
: “But it would not. be to gather them for
“himself, for -his own benefit, but for his master’s.
The poor slave doe’ not work for himself.
- One day Sadi was» sitting by an unusually large
heap of oysters, hunting’ among them for pearls.
He was tired, sleepy, hungry and discouraged. Tt
seemed to him that he should never have done with
searching among the oysters; he was so tired of
them. ‘And what is the use of this work,” he said
to himself, “since I find so few pearls, and those
found are so very small? And what is worse than
all, Zaloun is continually scolding and fretting be-
cause I find no more.” > |
Zaloun had again and again accused him of un-
‘faithfulness because he had so little success. This
‘was too hard, because Sadi was faithful, and liked
to find pearls and carry them to his master, almost
as well as his master liked to receive them.
He opened shell after shell—nothing in them but
oysters—great, fat oysters. He was sick of the
‘sight of them. Ile came upon a very little shell—
“go small an one that he looked upon it with con-
tempt, and was about to throw it into the sea un-
opened. But no! he would be entirely faithful !
He would open and examine carefully every oyster,
even the smallest. Such were his master’s orders.
He opened the despised shell. In the centre,
growing to it, nearly: filling it, was an immense
earl, a beautiful pearl, too,—the largest, the most
: iful that Sadi had ever seen.
. th wonder and delight. Hé'shut the shells
‘of the oyster closely together, hid it in his bosom,
and ran with all speed to find his master,
| wWretch! what now?” exclaimed Zaloun, as he
saw his slave approach, pale and panting with haste
“and excitement. ‘Hast thou found pearls and lost
: them, or would’st ieee
jest dog in Algiers
arrive ‘to. Good news! See " and pet
He was overs
feign to be ill and leave thy toil,
~
BOSTON, THURSDAY,
ting his hand in his bosom, Sadi took out the little
oyster, and opening it, showed the treusares «vy
Zaloun was more amazed and overjoyed than
Sadi, for he better knew the worth of the enormous
pearl before him. He could hardly believe his own
eyes; he could hardly believe that it was a real
pearl; he feared to see it melt away and vanish
from his sight. ‘God is great!” he exclaimed,
“may He be merciful to the poor diver!” ,
He hastened to the pearl-merchant.. He laid the
new-found treasure before him.
“What sayest thou?” he asked.
“A royal pearl,” said the merchant.
thine?”
“My slave has just found it.”
“A worthy slave. Hast thou come to sell it ?”
“J have come to learn its value.”
The merchant named a large sum, ‘Wilt thou
sell it?” he again asked.
“Not now. I must first possess it awhile my-
self.”
“Jt is not safe for thee. Thou wilt be murdered
for thy treasure.”
“And then thou wilt die for my death, for no
one knows of my good fortune but this | honest
slave boy behind me and thyself.” So saying Za-
loun departed from the merchant. +
The evident disappointment of the merchant at
not obtaining the pearl, and his hint at the danger
to which it exposed its owner, gave Zaloun a more
correct idea of its value than the sum he had named
for it, although that was enough to make him rich.
He was now nearly beside himself with joy and
pride at his great good fortune, but afraid to let it
be known, lest he should lose his treasure and his
life also on account of it, He determined to go to
the king, present his treasure to him, and trust to
his generosity for a suitable recompense.
Accompanied by his little negro slave, Sadi, who
was now in high favor with him, he appeared before
the king. He displayed the most wonderful pearl
that had ever been seen in that court. The king
was delighted.” “Wilt thou sell it?” be inquired
aloun.
“at is thine, most worthy sovereign,” was the
: oh $ .
wyaloun was hot disappointed in the justice and
generosity of the king, who loaded him with wealth
and honored him with favors. The king inquite
for the lucky finder. Sadi was brought before him.
“wArt thou a slave P” he asked.
«] am the slave of Zaloun.” —
sy ould’st thou be freeP”
“J would,” said the little Sadi,
floor as he made answer,
“Is it
bowing to the
hi
SEPTEMBER 10, 1863.
THE LITTLE FEACEMAKER,
“That I may sleep all night when I am tired, eat
zn Iam hungry, and run and. play like the free
boys. And if I were not a slave, I might work for
myself, and perhaps become rich, and set up for a
merchant. .
“Thou art right, boy,” said the king. “I have
spoken to thy master, and thou art free. Thou art
no more a slave.” :
Sadi bowed three times hefore the king, kissing
the floor. He went out from his presence rejoicing,
You arefglad, my children, that the little negro
slave boy found that wonderful pearl, and so ob-
tained his freedom. There are other slave boys be-
sides the poor negroes, white boys, who are slaves
to sin. Are you not slaves to sin? :
The slaves of sin have a hard master over them,
who leads them into trouble, and makes them un-
happy, and sometimes even wretched, so wretched
‘that they cannot sleep, so that they can hardly eat.
Now there is for each poor slave of sin “a pearl
of great price,” which will not only make him free
from the bondage of sin, but rich and honored as
the child of God, “the heir of God, a joint heir
with Christ.” But to obtain it, he must be willing
to give up all else for it. Will you not seek that
pearl? Will you not give up all else for it?
It is Christ himself who compares “the kingdom
of heaven to a merchant man seeking goodly pearls,
who, when he had found one pearl of great price,
went and sold all that he had and bought it.” The
kingdom of heaven, bought with all that we have, is
awise bargain, the best ever made. “For what
shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world
and lose his own soul?”- What shall.nota man
give to save himself from eternal death ?
se
THE DAUGHTERS OF THE LIGHT-HOUSE
KEEPER. -
The early dawn was struggling with and slowly
conquering the night. The two little daughters of
the light-house keeper stood by the window of the
small sitting-room in the low house, which was the
only one on the little island—the island that was
but half a mile from end to end, and that stood
alone and desolate out in the sea, miles away from
the main-land, bearing up the great, dark tower,
with ite blazing crown of light, which flashed
through the blackness brighter than any crown of
king or emperor, like a diadem of throbbing gems
hung away up in the air; guiding the sailor over
the black roads of the waters straight and safe to
his harbor. The litile daughters of the light-house
keeper stood by the window, and strained their
eyes out «into the growing day. They had dressed
in haste, and not even combed their hair after their
"And why, since thou art but a child, and
- Ld
need gome one to, fave eare of thee?
a
dost
,
night’s sleep, and it fell bright and tangled about
their faces. . 7 fe
22 SCHOOL STREET, BOSTON.
It was late in September, and the first great rain
and gale of the season had set in the day before;
and all through the night, while the little girls
were smiling softly amid their dreams, the storm
had grown in fierceness and strength; the winds
had raged, and raved, and tore up in their fierce
wrath the face of the sea, and hurled the great,
black billows against the island, whose timbers
were laid so deep and strong in the sea that no
storm nor wind could prevail against it, { .
furious wind; torn here, and hurled there, and the
sea seemed suddenly filled with aa awful life—
heaving, roaring, battling in pain, rage and terror,
The little daughters of the light-house keeper were
used to fearful storms in their island home, bat
they had never witnessed anything like this one,
which wakened them at the break of day.
But the storm of wind and sea was not the sound
which had drawn them so suddenly from their
beds, and sent them, half-dressed, to strain their
eyes out into the blinding rain, for another sound
had arisen above all the others, and filled their
little hearts with dread and pity—it was the boom-
ing of,a gun through the storm; and then they
knew there was some vessel in distress on that
wild sea, and that from the sound of the gun, she
could not be far off.
As the light grew, the little children saw the
masts looming up, spectral, through the rain, and
the schooner lay still a little on one side in the
waters, great waves breaking over her, while she
was slowly, slowly settling down, and they knew
then she had sprung aleak, and that in a few hours
the waves would roll over the tall masts, the mad
and hungry waves, that were licking the sides of
the vessel in fierce exultation at the triumph that
awaited them.
They were happy children—these two, on the
island where the light-house stood. No thought of
loneliness ever dropped through the gladneis of
their lives. In the long, pleasant summer days,
when the soft wind rippled the white waves until
they looked in the distance like great shoals of
lilies, vessels came over every day bringing small
parties from the shore ; and the little island would
be full of merry laughter, and humming voices,
and faces flitting to and fro; and in the winter
they read their books, and made their frolics, and
listened to their father’s stories, or that of some
weatber-beaten old sailor who had been all over
the world, and could tell such marvellous tales by
sea or land—O, there was never a day of summer
or winter that was long or heavy on the hearts of
the little children of the light-house keeper!
But at the time of which I tell you, there was
noone on the island except their father and an
aunt of his, an old woman who always lived with
them, and now had the charge of the family, be-
cause the children’s mother had gone’on shore in
the beautiful autunm days which had preceded this-
terrible storm. .
watched, and the voice of the gun came over the
waters, their father suddenly entered the room.
He was a tall, muscular, broad-chested man, with
a broad, honest forehead, and kindly face, in which
now was an unusual expression of seriousness,
even anxiety. The children ran eagerly towards.
him, and he took the youngest in his arms—she
was a little thing, just outside her fifth birth-day.
“OQ, father!” they cried simultaneously, “ean
you make out who is on board?” rn
“Yes,” said the light-house keeper, gravely;
“T’'ve been out with my glass, and there’s the cap~
tain and two or three hands, and a man and wo-
man who seem to be passengers, and the woman
has something on her lap; I can’t make out what
itis, but from all appearances, I’m pretty sure it’s
a little baby!”
“CO, father, isn’t it dreadful!” cried both the chil-
dren at once.
“Yes; it’s hard; they’ve got on the highest part
of the vessel, but every wave goes over them, She
and sadly. .
«QO, father, will they all-have to drown?” asked
the elder sister, with the tears on her cheeks. ae
“I don't see how it. can be helped, daughter,”
answered the father, “unless God sends them some
paid” tg sae ee
The blinding rain, too, was dashed about by the ~
mes.
And as the day grew, and the little children: ©
wont hold out much longer,” said the man, softly
