"A worthy Baronet, remarkable for his benevolent views and active spirit, has propagated a story of this kind, and he seems to claim for his native country the honour of possessing this extraordinary animal; but the mermaid of Caithness was certainly a _gentleman_, who happened to be travelling on that wild shore, and who was seen bathing by some young ladies at so great a distance, that not only _genus_ but gender was mistaken. I am acquainted with him, and have had the story from his own mouth. He is a young man, fond of geological pursuits, and one day in the middle of August, having fatigued and heated himself by climbing a rock to examine a particular appearance of granite, he gave his clothes to his Highland guide, who was taking care of his pony, and descended to the sea. The sun was just setting, and he amused himself for some time by swimming from rock to rock, and having unclipped hair and no cap, he sometimes threw aside his locks, and wrung the water from them on the rocks. He happened the year after to be at Harrowgate, and was sitting at table with two young ladies from Caithness, who were relating to a wondering audience the story of the mermaid they had seen, which had already been published in the newspapers: they described her, as she usually is described by poets, as a beautiful animal with remarkably fair skin and long green hair. The young gentleman took the liberty, as most of the rest of the company did, to put a few questions to the elder of the two ladies,--such as, on what day and precisely where this singular phenomenon had appeared. She had noted down not merely the day, but the hour and minute, and produced a map of the place. Our bather referred to his journal, and showed that a human animal was swimming in the very spot at that very time, who had some of the characters ascribed to the mermaid, but who laid no claim to others, particularly the green hair and fish's tail, but, being rather sallow in the face, was glad to have such testimony to the colour of his body beneath his garments."
With this story, I must conclude my review of "Salmonia,"--a work of considerable scientific and popular interest, and which cannot fail to become the favourite companion of the philosophical angler. The only production with which it can be at all compared is that of the "Complete Angler, by Izaac Walton." I agree with the critic who regards the two authors as pilgrims bound for the same shrine, resembling each other in their general habit--the scalloped hat, the dalmatique, and the knobbed and spiked staff--which equalize all who assume the character; yet, though alike in purpose, dress, and demeanour, the observant eye can doubtless discern an essential difference betwixt those devotees. The burgess does not make his approach to the shrine with the stately pace of a knight or a noble; the simple and uninformed rustic has not the contemplative step of the philosopher, or the quick glance of the poet. The palm of originality and of exquisite simplicity, which cannot perhaps be imitated with entire success, must remain with the common father of anglers--the patriarch Izaac; but it would be absurd to compare his work with the one written by the most distinguished philosopher of the nineteenth century, whose genius, like a sunbeam, illumined every recess which it penetrated, imparting to scarcely visible objects, definite forms and various colours.
