From these dreamy utterances of the venerable merman you will learn certain interesting facts. First, it becomes apparent that the merpeople are faced with like problems and plagued by emotions similar to those within human experience; while secondly, as to the matter of nomenclature, the submarine system differs widely from any other. Every merchild is in fact named after a sunken ship; and as the merfolks are not a numerous race nor yet a prolific, maritime disaster sufficient for the purpose occurs annually, and merbabies receive their names in order. Sometimes the wrecks are in excess of the sea-children, then the names of the ill-fated vessels are preserved until those are born who will bear them. “Star o’ Boston” sat and watched her father sleeping his last sleep in the old home. Her hair was the colour of the red-brown seaweed torn from the rocks in times of storm; her eyes were aqua-marine and reflected the cool, green, eternal twilight of the deep. She was fair to see even for a mermaid, and mystery shared her face with beauty. She drew her wonderful hair over her bosom, murmured the name of “Theodore H. Jackson,” and sighed. Love and duty struggled in her heart; she swayed her golden tail idly and drew conventional designs on the sand with the delicate coral-red fins at the end of it. Little fishes swam about her and rubbed themselves lovingly against her fair body; an octopus, who served the purposes of a chandelier, stretched down three or four of his arms and stroked her; a hermit-crab sat upon her shoulder, and there was a pathos in his black, beady eyes as they poked out of his head on stalks and looked at his mistress. Thus her pets--the poor dumb creatures of the Caribbean--showed their humble sympathy; but they could not help “Star o’ Boston” to a decision. She thought of “Lord Aberdeen” and shivered. He was a wealthy sea-owner, and lived in a cave of pink coral gloriously illumined by electricity stolen from a cable. He was old and ugly; he had been married three times and divorced twice. He had lost an eye in a fight with a sword-fish, which he was torturing from a mere love of cruelty. He habitually used the vilest language, and his temper was soured by the sea-snails which are the mosquitoes of the ocean, and cannot be kept out of a house. Many a bald-headed merman has been driven mad by them. “Star o’ Boston” pictured her fair person in the grasp of this marine satyr, and pressed her little pink hands over her face to shut out the hideous scene. Then she imagined her father limping away from the old home to return no more. At the same moment a merpage in mother-o’-pearl buttons brought a note from “Lord Aberdeen.” It was written in verse, which he constantly employed with indifferent success, and in the effusion his lordship made a last appeal, and reminded “Star o’ Boston” that the offer would not be renewed.