Pearls are perishable beauties, exquisite in their perfect state, but liable to accident from the nature of their delicate composition.  Remote antiquity chronicles their existence, and immemorial potentates eagerly sought for them to adorn their persons.  Pearl-fisheries in the Persian Gulf are older than the reign of Alexander; and the Indian Ocean, the Red Sea, and the Coast of Coromandel yielded their white wonders ages ago.  Under the Ptolemies, in the time of the Caliphs, the pearl-merchant flourished, grew rich, and went to Paradise.  To-day the pearl-diver is grubbing under the waves that are lapping the Sooloo Islands, the coast of Coromandel, and the shores of Algiers.  In Ceylon he is busiest, and you may find him from the first of February to the middle of April risking his life in the perilous seas.  His boat is from eight to ten tons burden, and without a deck.  At ten o’clock at night, when the cannon fires, it is his signal to put off for the bank opposite Condatchy, which he will reach by daylight, if the weather be fair.  Unless it is calm, he cannot follow his trade.  As soon as light dawns, he prepares to descend.  His diving-stone, to keep him at the bottom, is got ready, and, after offering up his devotions, he leaps into the water.  Two minutes are considered a long time to be submerged, but some divers can hold out four or five minutes.  When his strength is exhausted, he gives a signal by pulling the rope, and is drawn up with his bag of oysters.  Appalling dangers compass him about.  Sharks watch for him as he dives, and not infrequently he comes up maimed for life.  It is recorded of a pearl-diver, that he died from over-exertion immediately after he reached land, having brought up with him a shell that contained a pearl of great size and beauty.  Barry Cornwall has remembered the poor follow in song so full of humanity, that we quote his pearl-strung lyric entire.

  “Within the midnight of her hair,
  Half hidden in its deepest deeps,
  A single, peerless, priceless pearl
  (All filmy-eyed) forever sleeps. 
  Without the diamond’s sparkling eyes,
  The ruby’s blushes, there it lies,
  Modest as the tender dawn,
  When her purple veil’s withdrawn,—­
  The flower of gems, a lily cold and pale! 
  Yet what doth all avail,—­
  All its beauty, all its grace,
  All the honors of its place? 
  He who plucked it from its bed,
  In the far blue Indian ocean,
  Lieth, without life or motion,
  In his earthy dwelling,—­dead! 
  And his children, one by one,
  When they look upon the sun,
  Curse the toil by which he drew
  The treasure from its bed of blue.

  “Gentle Bride, no longer wear,
  In thy night-black, odorous hair,
  Such a spoil!  It is not fit
  That a tender soul should sit
  Under such accursed gem! 
  What need’st thou a diadem,—­
  Thou, within whose Eastern eyes
  Thought (a starry Genius) lies,—­
  Thou, whom Beauty has arrayed,—­
  Thou, whom Love and Truth have made
  Beautiful,—­in whom we trace
  Woman’s softness, angel’s grace,
  All we hope for, all that streams
  Upon us in our haunted dreams?