ers
bearing the Paris postmark.

The first that he opened was an invitation from the Geographical Society
of France, asking him and his companions to come and receive a handsome
medal, which had been voted in a solemn conclave "to the navigators of
the first circumpolar periplus of the arctic seas."

The second envelope made Erik start, he looked at it. On the box which
closed it was a medallion upon which the letters "E.D." were engraved,
surrounded by the motto "Semper idem."

These initials and devices were also stamped in the corner of the letter
enclosed in the envelope, which was that from Mr. Durrien.

The letter read as follows:

"My dear child,--Let me call you this in any case. I have just read
in a French newspaper a biography translated from the Swedish
language, which has overcome me more than I can tell you. It was
your account of yourself. You state that you were picked up at sea
about twenty-two years ago by a Norwegian fisherman in the
neighborhood of Bergen; that you were tied to a buoy, bearing the
name of 'Cynthia;' that the especial motive of your arctic voyage
was to find a survivor of the vessel of that name--ship wrecked in
October, 1858; and then you state that you have returned from the
voyage without having been able to gain any information about the
matter.

"If all this is true (oh, what would I not give if it is true!), I
ask you not to lose a moment in running to the telegraph office and
letting me know it. In that case, my child, you can understand my
impatience, my anxiety, and my joy. In that case you are my
grandson, for whom I have mourned so many years, whom I believed
lost to me forever, as did also my daughter, my poor daughter, who,
broken-hearted at the tragedy of the 'Cynthia,' still mourns every
day for her only child--the joy and consolation at first of her
widowhood, but afterward the cause of her despair.

"But we shall see you again alive, covered with glory. Such
happiness is too great, too wonderful. I dare not believe it until
a word from you authorizes me to do so. But now it seems so
probable, the details and dates agree so perfectly, your
countenance and manners recall so vividly those of my unfortunate
son-in-law. Upon the only occasion when chance led me into your
society, I felt myself mysteriously drawn toward you by a deep