pleased to invest it with feelings akin to their own. They were fond of the dolphin; what more natural and becoming than that the dolphin should be fond of them?” (_Birds and Beasts of the Greek Anthology_, p. 161.) But Douglas was undisillusionedly wrong, and the dolphins are right, and so is the “mankind” that believed in their friendliness. Though pleased to see the dolphins play, it is to be regretted that Douglas did not mind his compass and his way, for: Had the curteous Dolphins heard One note of his, they would have dar’d To quit the waters, to enjoy In banishment such melody. John Hall, 1646. In order to avoid any imputation that I may be attempting to play Euhemerus[2] to the dolphin’s tale, the facts may be allowed to speak for themselves—always remembering that facts never speak for themselves, but are at the mercy of their interpreters. All, then, that I am concerned to show here, by citing the contemporary evidence, is that, in essence, the so-called myths of the ancients were based on solid facts of observation and not, as has hitherto been supposed, on the imaginings of mythmakers. Let us begin with a brief account of the most recent and most thoroughly documented story of a free-dwelling dolphin’s social interaction with human beings. This is the story of Opo, a female _Tursiops_ that made its appearance early in 1955 at Opononi, a small township just outside the mouth of Hokianga Harbour, on the western side of the North Island of New Zealand. From allowing itself at first to be rubbed with an oar or mop carried on the fishermen’s launches, it began to glide in near the beach among the bathers. The cheerful _putt-putt_ of a motor-launch or of an outboard motor was an irresistible attraction for Opo, and she would follow the boat like a dog, playing or cruising round it. If she had an urge to wander, starting up the motor would invariably draw her back again. Mr. Piwai Toi, a Maori farmer, who was the first to observe Opo, writes, “She was really and truly a children’s playmate. Although she played with grownups she was really at her charming best with a crowd of children swimming and wading. I have seen her swimming amongst children almost begging to be petted. She had an uncanny knack of finding out those who were gentle among her young admirers, and keeping away from the rougher elements. If they were all gentle then she would give of her best.” (Antony Alpers, _The Dolphin_, pp. 228-229.) The child the dolphin favored was a thirteen-year-old girl named Jill Baker. At fourteen Jill wrote the following account of her experience with Opo: