Those were lovely, indeed, and some of them of considerable value; but it was a fortune, no less, that lay now spread before the eyes of the Skipper and his guest.

For these were the days when fine shells could not be bought on every hand, as they can to-day; when a good specimen of the Imperial Harp brought two hundred and fifty dollars easily, and when a collector would give anything, even to the half of his kingdom (if he were a collector of the right sort), for a Precious Wentletrap.
[Illustration] It was a Wentletrap on which the little red eyes of Mr.Endymion Scraper were fixed at this moment.

The morocco case in which it lay was lined with crimson velvet, and the wonderful shell shone purely white against the glowing colour,--snow upon ice; for the body of the shell was semi-transparent, the denser substance of the spiral whorls turning them to heavy snow against the shining clearness beneath them.

Has any of my readers seen a Precious Wentletrap?
Then he knows one of the most beautiful things that God has made.
Apparently the Skipper had just opened the case, for Mr.Scraper was sitting with his mouth wide open, staring at it with greedy, almost frightened eyes.

Truly, a perfect specimen of this shell was, in those days, a thing seen only in kings' cabinets; yet no flaw appeared in this, no blot upon its perfect beauty.