Or have you ever heard an old sailor or an old fisherman tell stories of the deep?  If not, you cannot take in the kind of spell or enchantment that lingers about the sea after listening to these sounds or hearing these stories.  They are all mixed up with the “myth” stories you heard of a little way back.

But these stories have been told ever since the world was young.  And the mermaids are said to be daughters of the river-god that have lived ever in the deep and sounding ocean.

And they were strange and weird—­that is, wild, unnatural, and witching.  They would appear in both calm and stormy weather.

Sirens were sometimes thought to be different from mermaids, but we fishes know them to be one and the same thing—­that is, if they exist at all.  It used to be said that a mermaid murmured, but that a siren sang, with dangerous sweetness.  Both murmur and both sing, one as much as the other.

They will all at once be seen poised on perilous rocks, their long and splendid hair floating back in the wild wind, their eyes shining like stars, their faces bright and glorious, their white arms and gleaming shoulders rising like snow from midst the dark and stormy waves.

Ah! the singing, the beckoning, and the coaxing of a mermaid!  Let me tell you how they work.

They have a sly, four-legged creature on land, all dressed in fur, and sporting a fine, thick tail, and they say that when this Madame Puss wants to catch a bird that is wheeling in the air, she will manage to first catch its eye.  Then the little creature will not be able to look away, but will wheel and circle, and circle and wheel, all the time coming nearer, until, if no one frightens Madame Puss away, she will keep her yellow eye fixed on the eye that she has caught, until the bird flies close to her and is caught.

This is called “charming a bird.”  And the truth must be that poor birdie, after catching sight of that great, shining eye, does not see Madame Puss herself, but only the bright eye, and being unable to look away, flies nearer and nearer the strange, glittering light, until Madame Puss makes a spring, and all is over.

[Illustration:  “White faces seemed to rise and ride atop of the foaming billows”]

Just so, it is said, the sailors cannot look away from the fair, wonderful creatures tossing their rich hair, beckoning wildly, singing and singing with a sweetness that is not natural or earthly, until, what with the beauty and luring, and voices of honey, the poor sailormen are close against the rocks, and do not seem to know that they are charmed or harmed when the waters close softly over them.

I do not know whether I have ever seen a mermaid or not.  But when I took that dangerous voyage up into the storm circle, I saw strange shapes that I never saw before, and heard sounds that were new to my ear.  Two or three times I thought I saw streaming hair, and white faces seemed to rise and ride atop of the foaming billows.