But all this, of course, is pure fancy. A pearl is not formed from the dew, and still less is its lustre derived from the lightning. Science would describe it as the result of an accident. It is "an _accidental_ concretion of shelly matter deposited within the shell of certain mollusca." If you open an oyster-shell you find the inside of _it_ all covered over with a bright smooth covering of shelly matter. This is laid on in innumerable layers, the one above the other, and the thinner and more transparent the layers, the more perfect is the lustre. Now, if any hard substance like a grain of sand gets inside the shell, this shelly matter begins to gather round it, coat after coat, which harden as they gather, until the pearl is fully formed. It is said the Chinese take advantage of this fact to get the little creatures to make imitation pearls. They insert round pellets between the valves of the mussel, and in a short time the creature deposits a coating of this pearly substance upon them, and they can scarcely be detected from true pearls. A pearl, then, is a grain of sand transformed into a precious gem. It began as a kind of thorn in the flesh, and ended in a jewel so valuable that thousands of pounds cannot buy it. The unwelcome intruder was really an angel in disguise. The pain became a pearl. And do not all human pearls come in the same way? Is there any gain without pain? or is there any perfection without the fire of suffering? No. The fruit-tree does not flourish apart from the pruning-knife, and the fruit is not ripened apart from the scorching heat of the sun. Iron is not hammered into shape until it has been thrust into the furnace, and character does not glisten like a gem until it has been polished by the lapidary. And thus we find the poets saying that they learn in suffering what they teach in song; and the young people will not forget that even Jesus—the Pearl of great price—was made "perfect through sufferings" (Heb. ii. 10). So that Carlyle was well within the mark when he wrote: "Thought, true labour of any kind, highest virtue itself, is it not the daughter of pain?" Yes, every thorn may be a blessing in disguise. Every pain may become a pearl.