the whale tribe, which have warm blood, and which produce their young alive, and suckle them with their milk, actually connect the water animals with those of the land; that the frogs, lizards and turtles, form links previous to the foregoing; and that the Seal has the furry coat, and the degree of resemblance to the ape and to man, which ought to satisfy all such as depend on analogy, and to leave the existence of Mermaids to be proved by real demonstration, unaided by any belief beforehand. A Seal was surely the animal seen by the observers in Scotland; the memorable Phoca of Mr. Oldbuck, whose figure and manner might perplex many a new acquaintance, and which, we may add, is not without a voice, the necessary possession of every Mermaid or Syren.

6. In discussing probabilities, it is less easy to admit the existence of a marine animal, still obscurely known, whose being, in the meantime, depends upon its visiting the region of the air, and which is even unadapted to a continuance under water of any duration whatever. In the depths of the sea there are doubtless myriads of organic productions to which we are still strangers, because some rarely, and others never, rise to the surface; but that the Mermaid, which is represented as sitting and playing on the waves, and leaping out of them, should, if existing, not be familiar to the knowledge of mankind, is quite inconceivable.

But it is important to a full consideration of the subject, to view the history of the Mermaid under a further and a new aspect; namely, as belonging, not only to the credulity of natural observation, but as closely connected with popular superstition. The existence of Mermaids and Syrens is certainly no better than a part of that belief which has filled the waters, in common with the earth and air, with gods or spirits. They are the sea-gods of Greek and Roman fable, and the kelpies and water-demons of the Scotch and other creeds. It is superstition, it is the belief that the seas and waters contain gods or spirits, and always malignant gods or spirits, that has either imagined bodies for containing those dreaded powers, or seized upon the bodies of Seals, or other marine animals, as the visible tenements of the invisible agents.

Dr. Hibbert, in his Account of the Zetland Isles, gives us various particulars of the superstition of the inhabitants in relation to the Seal, which is frequent upon their shores, and to which they essentially ascribe all that has ever been fabled of Mermaids and Syrens; and I have at hand a translation of a Gaelic poem in which the Seal is evidently alluded to, in terms exactly consistent with Dr. Hibbert's statement. The Giant's Causeway, on the Coast of Antrim, in Ireland, is here described, consisting of "the castles of the ocean never formed by mortal hands; the haunt of the water-sprite, when love draws the chiefs of the deep from their chrystalline towers, to frolic with the children of a day." These frolics, according to Dr. Hibbert, are usually love adventures, either by Mermen or Merwomen, who carry off human beings, each of the sex opposite to their own, bearing them to their sub-marine abodes, as Mermen and Mermaids have done time out of mind, and in all parts of the world! Georgius Trapanzantius assures us, that he himself saw a Mermaid, extremely beautiful, rise many times out of the water; and he adds, that in Epirus, a Merman came on the shore, and watched near a spring of water, endeavouring to catch young women that came there; he was caught, but could not be made to eat; a sure sign, it is said, of love! Indeed, the loves of the Mermaids, and their consequent misleading of the objects of their admiration into the waves, are topics already so familiar to poetry, that Mr. Moore will hardly be tempted to make an epic of that sort a companion to his Loves of the Angels :

is the ordinary seductive song of the Mermaid or Syren!

We see, then, one and the same superstition spreading from the Islands of Scotland to the Coast of Epirus, and we may be assured that it has a far wider range, and everywhere rests on the same foundations. The ancients knew as much of Mermaids as we. Pliny tells us of men who are half fishes, and that

the ambassadors from Gaul to Augustus Cæsar declared that sea-women were often seen in their neighbourhood. Solinus and Aulus Gellius also bear testimony to their existence.

The spirits of the waters, however, were not subject to the vice of incontinence alone. Superstition has made them always desire evil for its own sake; destroyers for the mere sake of destruction. They wrecked vessels, and drowned their crews;-they are, as before said, the kelpies of the rivers of Scotland. Everywhere a propitiatory worship has been offered to them. Alexander the Great threw into the sea an offering of a golden cup. Annual sacrifices of this kind are still made in Switzerland. The American Indians throw gifts into their rivers and lakes. The Syrens of Homer are essentially gods. To allure Ulyses, they offered him wisdom, a divine gift, and exactly the same as that with which the serpent more successfully tempted Eve. The Argonauts escaped the enchantment of their evil songs only by aid of the strains of the heavenly Orpheus; the latter exorcised the fiends of the deep, as a Romish priest, by means of his Latin service, would serve a fiend on

shore.

The poets, as usual, have wrought up the popular materials. With them, the Syrens, who, like the Fates, and all other witches, were three in number (Parthenope, Lygea and Leucosia), were the daughters of the river Acheloüs and one of the Muses; the only faux pas, I believe, that has ever been charged upon the sisterhood, and an amiable offspring followed! The Syrens, however, were not always half women and half fish, but sometime half women and half birds; that is, Harpies, who were also three in number. The "weird sisters," I conclude, could take either of these shapes, and many another also! But whether as half fish, or as half bird, their dulcet notes were never lost. Of these, it seems, they were as proud as the crow in the other fable, and, in their bird-shape, as unfortunate as the other feathered pretender. Pausanias tells us that the Syrens, that is, the Harpies, at the persuasion of Juno, challenged the Muses to a trial of singing, in which they were vanquished, as may well be expected, if their voices were really no better than represented by Homer (Iliad, xix, 350), who is thus translated by Chapman :

"And like a Harpie, with a voice that shrieks."

The Muses, on their conquest, plucked the golden feathers from the wings of the Syrens, and formed them into crowns, with which they adorned their heads. There are antique representations of the Syrens in both their forms. Hyginus places the birth of these demi-gods among the consequences of the rape of Proserpine. To me there seems little difficulty in carrying back the whole of these poetical fables to their origin in the rude minds of the populace, and the unassisted objects of nature. The Syrens, half women and half fish, were Seals, or other natural inhabitants of the waters; and the Syrens, half women and half birds, were Ospreys, or ravening sea fowl. In these the spirits of popular superstition were embodied. The spirits allured the human race to their destruction; they did so with their voices, therefore those voices were certainly sweet; but, to account for the sweet voices, as well as for the natural power of these preternatural water-deities, they were fabled as the children of the river god Achelous by a Muse. The Seals and Sea-birds both have voices, and this was sufficient both for popular and classic fable. The ancients were liberal in the attribution of melody; indeed, wherever there was sound, they could suppose music; as, wherever there was form they could suppose beauty. The haunted rivers resounded with the sighs of the reeds, and the songs of the Swan; why not then their estuaries, and sea-coasts, and seas, with the melody of the Seals and Gulls? I am not ignorant that the song of the Swan has been re-asserted by a northern observer; nor without my doubts whether almost any sound may not, under some circumstances or others, be grateful to the ear. Besides, we have Mr. Toupin's authority for believing that the voice of the Mermaid is really agreeable.

I now sum up a second time, and finally, with the hope of having brought you and your readers to the more general conclusion, that there is no such

animal as the Mermaid, though there may be an animal or animals which various persons, and Columbus among the rest have so denominated; and that the belief in the existence of Mermaids belongs, not only to false natural history, but to false religion; not only to the testimony of those who have ill-observed nature, but to that of those who have been the slaves of superstition.

Your former correspondent, John Dory, has been naturally reminded by the production of a Mermaid, of the recent rumours of the speedy arrival of an Unicorn, through the care of Major Latter; and has hence ventured almost to anticipate the appearance of the Phoenix, Sphinx and Griffin, to which list he might have added the Chimæra. I shall keep, however, more within the bounds of natural history, and of marine nature, when I venture no more than to mention the Craken and Sea-serpent, both of which, along with the Mermaid, still supply problems unsolved. As to the Sea-serpent, I am half inclined to suspect for it a fabulous or superstitious original, like that which I attribute to the Mermaid. In the Scandinavian mythology, the serpent Midgard surrounds the earth, and lies beneath the sea. The divine Thor, on visiting the city of the Giants, where all was illusion, so that he lost the sense of his own stupendous powers, went out a-fishing in one of the boats of the place. The boat, though far otherwise to his eyes, was really insufficient to carry the god, whose feet pierced its bottom, and rested on the serpent Midgard, which Thor mistook for the bed of the ocean. At another time he was challenged by the Giants to lift one of their gigantic cats; he raised it a little above the ground, but could do no more, and was ashamed of his apparent impotence. The Giants, however, subsequently confessed to him, that the cat had been no other than the great serpent Midgard, whose body surrounds the entire earth; and that when they saw it lifted by his hands, they had trembled with affright.* Now, did the fable of this serpent originate in the view of a Sea-serpent, or the stories of Sea-serpents in the fable of the serpent Midgard ? But as the Scandinavian fables assuredly come from Asia, I have pleasure in proposing this question for further elucidation by your correspondents, on some page of your excellent journal. OLD DAVY.

HOT SPRING, NEAR MONGHYR.

The Seetacoond, or hot spring, near Monghyr, is certainly one of the most remarkable natural objects to be met with on the banks of the Ganges. Its situation at the bottom of the rocky hills, the elevated temperature and purity of its waters, and its proximity to the river, combine to induce the stranger, as he sails along, to delay his voyage for an hour, and step on shore to examine it. Some years ago, I happened to be one of a party who visited this fountain and the neighbouring scenery, with which we were much gratified.

On the morning of the 19th November, soon after leaving our anchorage, on tracking slowly along, we had a clear view of the hills on the opposite or right bank of the river, consisting of ranges of different heights, and at different distances. Some of those next to the river, with their bare stony ridges placed one upon the other, looked not unlike a populous European city, built on a hill, with its streets rising in terraces to the summit. The others in the distance appeared like the Rajmal chain, as a long dark-colored range, covered to the top with trees, and extending in a direction from S. W. to N. E. On the highest point of the former we perceived a large white building, the situation of which, and its splendid walls, then glittering in the morning sun-beam, made it an object of the greatest interest in the prospect. This, we are told, was situated near the town of Monghyr, and that a village appearing immediately opposite to the budgerow was Seetcoond, or Seetgong, the site of a celebrated hot well, whose virtues in the cure of diseases had reached the uttermost corners of India. This account did not fail to excite in us a great desire to view so singular an object; and we caused the boatmen to row us over without Mallet, Antiquités du Nord.

*

delay. We had scarcely touched the shore, when we found some of the attendants on the spring waiting to conduct us to it, and all eager to explain the miraculous properties which it is believed to possess. After passing through some fields of Urruher Dhall, we came to an open area, covered with a fine sward, and as level as a bowling-green. A few palms rose from this; and a little in front was situated the spring, surrounded by large trees, and enclosed by a large brick wall of moderate height. Alongside were the cold wells, or rather tanks, which it is usual to compare with the fountain itself. As soon as we entered the enclosure, we were sensible of a great change in the temperature of the air, and felt almost suffocated by the vapour, which floated over the surface of the water. The water seemed to have a very slight tinge of a straw color, but was without taste. It rose from the bottom of the fountain at a great many points, and was accompanied by a quantity of gas, which disengaged itself, and bubbled up to the surface with very little interruption. We endeavoured to collect some of this gas for future examination: but not having a proper apparatus with us, we could not obtain the smallest portion. It was colorless in the water and on the surface, and had no sensible smell. It was, in all probability, azotic gas, similar to that of Buxton in England. On trial with Fahrenheit's thermometer we found the temperature of the spring to be uniformly 140°, there being no difference in the degree at the bottom and at three inches from the surface. The neighbouring cold fountains or tanks indicated a temperature of 75°, and the atmosphere at that time of the day was a degree or two higher. To the hand the spring felt intolerably hot, and the water retained its heat so long, that at the distance of one hundred and fifty yards, the stream which flowed from it was found only fifteen degrees lower than at the source. After filling our bottles, we were preparing to take our departure, when the sound of voices, in a dignified and peculiar tone, issuing from a corner of the fountain, attracted our attention; and on turning to that quarter, we perceived two persons, one of whom was a Brahmin, engaged in administering some ceremony to another Hindu, who repeated distinctly, word by word, the expressions used by the former, of which we could distinquish Seetcoond more than once. It seemed, indeed, to be a mere repetition of names of places. The person who was receiving the ceremony occasionally immersed his hands in the hot water, and made some motions in the air; after which, his holy adviser continued the same unmeaning jargon. After leaving the well, we directed our steps to a neighbouring low ridge, and in passing along tried to discover any peculiarity of the soil which might account for the elevated temperature of the fountain: but we could perceive nothing remarkable about it, excepting that it seemed more stiff than the lands generally observed on the river's bank, and contained, in all probability, a larger proportion of clay. The hill we found to consist of white quartz rock, the strata running in the course of the ridge from west to east, and having an elevation in general of 80° above the horizon. This hill may be said to be composed entirely of bare rock; there was no mould covering it, and the few shrubs which sprung out from the crevices and under the large stony masses, gave but a faint appearance of vegetation when viewed from a distance. On the top of the hill was situate a small hut, which, upon enquiry, we found to be no less than a temple dedicated to the service of Juggurnaut; a name carrying with it everything that is terrible in Indian mythology. There were two women and a man resident in the hut, of whom the latter officiated as sacred functionary on the image of the deity; but he seemed more anxious to obtain a few pice from a casual visitor, than to pay his tribute of praise to the imaginary being whom he served. These poor people, however, had endeavoured to make their solitary residence as comfortable as possible; and their small garden, surrounded by a fence of prickly bushes, gave an air of liveliness and a pleasing effect to the scene, which made us delighted with it. On descending from this ridge, we crossed over and passed the spring to a similar but more extensive hill on the opposite side. Here the nature of the rock was similar, but its stratification appeared more doubtful, it being difficult to say whether the course was from E. to W. or from N. to S.; their position, in

regard to the horizon, was the same as in the former, with the exception that an inclination of the strata was conspicuous towards the south, while the opposite ridge appeared to incline towards the north; so that if the angles formed by both had been continued, they would have met in the middle of the space between them. The view from the top of this hill was in the highest degree gratifying. At the western extremity was placed an Indian village, the huts covered with various climbing plants, and harmonizing in effect with the palm trees, which rose above them at intervals, and diversified the scene. Beyond this village a lake stretched out several miles in length, like a clear mirror, in which were reflected the parallel ridges that appeared more interiorly with a bold but rugged outline; the dark-wooded high range in the distance completed the scene in front, and formed one vast amphitheatre, the most varied and pleasing that it is possible to conceive. On the right was seen the hill house, and on the left the broad windings of the Ganges, with a small woody elevation, which we had left the preceding morning, looking like a battlemented pyramid drawn on the distant horizon. I could not help remarking, here, the fine effect that is added to the scene, by the large falcons soaring high over head, and making their graceful circles in the air as they rose and fell, still preserving the same general level.-Calcutta Government Gazette.

WORKING AND POLISHING GRANITE.

In cutting the hardest granite, the Hindu workmen employ only a small steel chisel, and an iron mallet. The chisel is short, and Dr. Kennedy thinks it probable that it is formed of one of the short bars of Berar wootz, described by Dr. Heyne in his tracts on India. It tapers to a round point like that of a drawing pencil. The mallet, weighing a few pounds, is somewhat longer than the chisel. The head, set on at right angles to the handle, may be from two to three inches long. It has only one striking face, formed into a pretty deep hollow, which is lined with lead to deaden the blow.

With two such simple tools to have detached the most massy granite column from its native bed, to have formed, fashioned, and scarped the granite rock which forms the tremendous fortress of Dowlatabad, and to have excavated the wonderful caverns at Ellora, are instances of the incredible patience of the Hindu, and of the simple and apparently inadequate means by which he accomplishes the most difficult undertaking. It seems probable that the Hindu stone-cutters never worked with any other tools. The traces of the pointed chisel are at this day as fresh upon the rock of the very ancient fortress of Dowlatabad, as when first cut. An obelisk of a single granite stone, the shaft of which is seventy-five feet in length, was erected a few years ago in the neighbourhood of Seringapatam. It was quarried and worked entirely by Hindu workmen.

When the stone is brought to a smooth surface, it next undergoes the dressing with water, in the manner usual with masons. The fine black shining polish is given in the following manner :

A block of granite of considerable size is rudely fashioned into the shape of the end of a large pestle. The lower face of this is hollowed out into a cavity, and this is filled with a mass composed of pounded Corundum stone, mixed with lac. This block is moved by means of two sticks, and pieces of bamboo, placed one on each side of its neck, and bound together by cords, twisted and tightened by sticks. The weight of the whole is as much as two workmen can easily manage. They seat themselves on, or close to the stone they are to polish, and by moving the block backwards and forwards between them, the polish is given by the friction of the mass of wax and Corundum. Granite finished in this way is the most common material of which the tomb-stones of princes and great men in India are constructed. As a beautiful glossy black, it is scarcely inferior to the finest black marble. A granite gateway, supposed to be five hundred years old, in the ancient city of Warankal, has lost nothing of its original lustre.