The painting of the harbour, of the cliffs, of the fishes tossing in tumultuous heaps, and of the chase and capture by dolphins of their prey, all seem to Mr. Hall but a careful elaboration of a suitable background (as the fields, etc., in the ancient Pastorals form an artistic background to the shepherds) for the solitary figure. “But, on the crag a fisher sate Observant; in his grasp he held a net, Like one that, poising, rises to the throw.” The occurrence here of the Dolphin, together with the part that it played in the recovery of Hesiod’s body, makes this an appropriate place for a brief _résumé_ of the position occupied by this fish in Greek and Roman authors, and of the many pretty legends in which for all time its memory is enshrined.[195] The myth of the Dolphin—a creature of lightness and swiftness—as the _protégé_ of the gods and the helpmate of man stands out as a purely Hellenic conception, and contrasts sharply with that of the Tortoise, unmoving, half-hidden, which according to Eastern belief supports the weight of the world. In Greek and Latin literature (exclusive of the recipes of the gourmets or the rhapsodies of the opsophagi) no fish wins more frequent mention or higher appreciation than the Dolphin. And justly so, since, of a nature essentially philanthropic, it delights to be with man, and aid man by willing services.[196] Pliny, indeed, confesses that he could never reach the end of the stories about their kindly acts, especially towards the young. He notes that they found pleasure not only in the society of man, but also in music, _præcipue hydrauli sono_, or “the organ,” the only trait, I imagine, common to the fish and to Nero![197] The helpfulness of the Dolphin shows itself in diverse ways, often on vital occasions. In gratitude for the rescue of Telemachus, Ulysses wore its effigy stamped on signet and on shield. Attracted by Arion’s singing, it saves from the waves “the sweet musician,” and bears him safe to Tænarum.[198] Later on, with pleasant disregard of religious bias, it rescues the Christian Saint Callistratus from a watery grave.[199] It acts as willing, almost as “common” carrier, alike to gods, schoolboys, and damsels in distress. It anticipates our meteorological office, for from the direction of its swim can be predicted the wind of to-morrow.[200] Its constant and practical service to fishermen meets wide attestation. Oppian sings it: Pliny proses it: Ælian cribs, and confirms it.[201] From the lagoon of Latera (says our Latin author) multitudes of mugils or grey mullets at stated periods flock to the sea.[202] The moment the migration begins, crowds collect for the sport, shout their loudest, and summon “Simo” from the vasty deep, or rather the mouth of the lagoon.