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 brown, from American waters, some a reddish-brown, related to those of New Holland; the former from the Gulf of Mexico, remarkable for their imbricated shells; the latter, the stellaria, found in the South Seas, and rarest of all, the magnificent “spar” shell of New Zealand; and, in fine, ovula, oliva, buccini, voluta, harpa, cassis, cerethia, fissurella, patella, and other delicate and fragile shells, to which science has given most charming names.

Besides, and in special compartments, were displayed rows of pearls of great beauty, which the electric light tipped with little scintillations. Rose-pearls torn from the Red Sea; green pearls of the halistoid iris; yellow pearls, and blue, and black; curious products of various molluscs in every ocean, and in certain water-courses, besides many other specimens of immense value.

Some of these pearls surpassed a pigeon’s egg in size, and were worth more than that which the traveller Tavernier sold to the Shah of Persia for three millions, and excelled that other pearl of the Imaum of Muscat, which I fancied without a rival in the world.

So to calculate the value of this collection was almost impossible. Captain Nemo must have spent millions on his specimens, and I was thinking how he could thus afford to gratify his tastes, when I was interrupted by his saying:

“You are examining my shells, monsieur; they can interest a naturalist, but they have a greater charm for me, for I have collected them all myself, and there is not any part of the oceanic world that has escaped my search.”

“I can quite understand,” said I, “the pleasure of