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. POIET.—But I do not understand upon what philosophical principles you deny the existence of the mermaid. We are not necessarily acquainted with all the animals that inhabit the bottom of the sea; and I cannot help thinking there must have been some foundation for the fable of the Tritons and Nereids. HAL.—Ay; and of the ocean divinities, Neptune and Amphitrite! POIET.—Now I think you are prejudiced. HAL.—I remember the worthy baronet, whom I just now mentioned, on some one praising the late Sir Joseph Banks very highly, said, “Sir Joseph was an excellent man—but he had his prejudices.” What were they? said my friend. “Why, he did not believe in the mermaid.” Pray still consider me as the baronet did Sir Joseph—prejudiced on this subject. ORN.—But give us some reasons for the impossibility of the existence of this animal. HAL.—Nay, I did not say impossibility; I am too much of the school of Isaac Walton to talk of impossibility. It doubtless might please God to make a mermaid; but I do not believe God ever did make one. ORN.—And why?