As I have never been in a truly house, I cannot know of all the kinds of carpets or coverings that Folks use on the floors.

Yet I have had peeps at very lovely carpets, as in a ship's cabin, and I know that velvet and fine, beautiful straw, as well as other kinds of nice carpets, must be used in what Folks call their houses.

Oh, but never has a floor of wood been covered with such wonderful material, or covering of such marvellous workmanship, as that over which I have roamed, and on which I have rested all my life. Yet, except in deep waters, I will not pretend that my carpets are always very soft.

In the deeper waters that I love, there are miles and miles of soft, blue mud, that to a Dolphin is far more luxurious and enjoyable than the thickest of velvet or the most closely, evenly plaited straw could be. But when, after a long, delightful journey, I visit the regions of shallower waters, ah, the beautiful things I could bring you, were there a tunnel, a car, or an air-shaft to convey me safely to land!

What are these shining, many-colored things I see lying about, with all kinds of fishes sailing around and playing with, as a child plays with blocks or cards?

Shells! all kinds and shapes, many of them rough outside but smooth and glossy as glass inside.

What is a shell? You know the word "marine," called ma-reen, means belonging to the sea, so shells are marine curiosities, for they are always found in or near the sea. And they are really the hard, outer covering of some sea-animal or other.

But how can I describe shells such as I have looked upon a thousand times? You have seen some kinds, I know, but they would not even pass as samples of the splendid shapes and tints that lie scattered around my floor. A few Folks have made a study of the different kinds of shells that have floated or been carried to the shore, and have been able to tell the class of sea-animals to which they have belonged. They once were the coats or outside garment of a swimmer or a clinger of the sea.

One day a mother-Dolphin missed her boy-Dolphin, and as he was quite a young fellow, she felt much distressed. Away she sailed, peering amidst the many objects covering the sea-floor.

Do you suppose it is an easy matter to find a fish that has got lost? I caught the flying-fish because he never got far away from me. But here was a young rascal that had gone off roaming, almost before he knew how to feed himself, and search as she might, nowhere could his mother find the rogue of a runaway.

If you will believe it, he was gone a week, then back he came, his eyes as big as saucers. You see, I know how to say some things that Folks do; by and by you will find out how I learned them.

Master Dolphy had a story to tell. He made us understand in fish-language that he had found a wonderful, wonderful cave, where a party of mermaids had collected a lot of shells, oh, enough to fill a great house!

Now, I can't tell a thing as to the truth about mermaids. But "they say," that is, Folks and fishes say, that they are strange, fascinating creatures, with the head, shoulders, arms, and breast of a beautiful woman, and part of the body and the tail of a fish. Sometimes they are called sea-nymphs; others call them sirens.

Have you ever lived by the sea? And on stormy evenings, when rain was rattling on the window-pane, and the wind went screaming around the house, have you ever imagined there were queer calls, and have you seen strange shapes thrown up by the waves?

Or have you ever heard an old sailor or an old fisherman tell stories of the deep? If not, you cannot take in the kind of spell or enchantment that lingers about the sea after listening to these sounds or hearing these stories. They are all mixed up with the "myth" stories you heard of a little way back.

But these stories have been told ever since the world was young. And the mermaids are said to be daughters of the river-god that have lived ever in the deep and sounding ocean.

And they were strange and weird—that is, wild, unnatural, and witching. They would appear in both calm and stormy weather.

Sirens were sometimes thought to be different from mermaids, but we fishes know them to be one and the same thing—that is, if they exist at all. It used to be said that a mermaid murmured, but that a siren sang, with dangerous sweetness. Both murmur and both sing, one as much as the other.

They will all at once be seen poised on perilous rocks, their long and splendid hair floating back in the wild wind, their eyes shining like stars, their faces bright and glorious, their white arms and gleaming shoulders rising like snow from midst the dark and stormy waves.

Ah! the singing, the beckoning, and the coaxing of a mermaid! Let me tell you how they work.

They have a sly, four-legged creature on land, all dressed in fur, and sporting a fine, thick tail, and they say that when this Madame Puss wants to catch a bird that is wheeling in the air, she will manage to first catch its eye. Then the little creature will not be able to look away, but will wheel and circle, and circle and wheel, all the time coming nearer, until, if no one frightens Madame Puss away, she will keep her yellow eye fixed on the eye that she has caught, until the bird flies close to her and is caught.

This is called "charming a bird." And the truth must be that poor birdie, after catching sight of that great, shining eye, does not see Madame Puss herself, but only the bright eye, and being unable to look away, flies nearer and nearer the strange, glittering light, until Madame Puss makes a spring, and all is over.

Just so, it is said, the sailors cannot look away from the fair, wonderful creatures tossing their rich hair, beckoning wildly, singing and singing with a sweetness that is not natural or earthly, until, what with the beauty and luring, and voices of honey, the poor sailormen are close against the rocks, and do not seem to know that they are charmed or harmed when the waters close softly over them.

I do not know whether I have ever seen a mermaid or not. But when I took that dangerous voyage up into the storm circle, I saw strange shapes that I never saw before, and heard sounds that were new to my ear. Two or three times I thought I saw streaming hair, and white faces seemed to rise and ride atop of the foaming billows.

But when one is very much excited, will not imagination produce almost any kind of an object that happens to come into the mind? Ah, I am afraid so. Still, there are both Folks and fishes that believe in the mermaids and their songs, and what am I that I should dare dispute them!

Yet—let me whisper—I have heard that Folks who do not know so very much, will tell about "goblins," "spooks," and "catch-ums," and whenever there is talk about the mermaids and the sirens, I think of those Folks who believe in creatures that "never were."

But it would not do to talk in my watery home as if I had no belief in mermaids, because, you see, as most fishes have never been with Folks, and learned a thing or two from them, they do not know any better than to believe in these sweet, dangerous creatures.

So, now, here came Dolphy, with flapping fins, wild eye, and his story of a mermaid's cave. Then a party was made up to go and see the rare and amazing place.

Well, it did look as if some creatures of surprising taste and skill had brought together a collection of shells such as are never seen above the surface of the sea, and formed, indeed, a cave fit for a mermaid's home.

I know little about time, but it must have been days and nights I stayed in the enchanting place, roving hither and thither, rubbing my fins against the soft, smooth shells, and half wondering how they really came to be grouped together in such shining rows.

And the colors! And the shapes! Some were well-opened on the inside, and looked as if entirely covered with pink enamel. They were of clear, ivory white, pinkish white, pale rose, deep rose, pale yellow, or straw color, orange yellow, blue and green mixed in glossy sheen, shades of pink running into rich reds, purples and grayish pinks, making the fair, sweet mother-o'-pearl.

Some were cup-shaped, having deep hollows. Should you hold your ear fairly shut into one of these, it is said you would hear always as often as you so held it, the roaring of the ocean. And a roaring sound you would hear, in very truth. Yet, let me tell you! Take a common china cup, shut your ear into it, and the same roaring will be heard.

Is that old ocean? No, it is simply the sound of your own blood coursing through your veins.

A wide-awake Frenchman once wrote that, could you look within your own body and see the engines pumping, the valves opening and shutting, the pipes working, and the whole machinery in action, it would surprise and perhaps scare you into the bargain.

We have got a little off the track, but it is well to know the facts about these things. Now we will return to the shells.

Look at that splendid one shaped like a bowl, but with pink lips rolled back, through which can be seen changing tints of pink and white. Here is one that is oblong, lined with rose enamel, but having strange horns pointing out at one side.

See that beauty, wide open and shaped like a saucer. Dear me, hold it a little toward the light, and there gleams every color of the rainbow on the polished surface. Here is another, striped with hair-like lines in red, yellow, blue, and brown. There is a fan, wide open, beautifully polished; it has no handle, but its coloring is in nearly all tints, and changeable in the light. What a lovely thing is this heart-shaped shell, with a line along the centre, and beautifully blending colors on either side. There are many of these scattered around.

Now, how can I describe these singular yet perfect shapes banked up against rocks that are completely hidden on the inside of the cave?

Over there is a funny, snarly head, with fine shreds of hair laced over a smooth shell. Ah, what gleams of colored light shoot through the hair! Here is a bird's nest on a bar, lying side of a wide fan, shaped like a palm leaf; in the plaitings are curled all colors, pink, blue, yellow, and green.

This shell is like a foot with eighteen or twenty toes, smooth, shining, and of flesh-like tints. This is like a bat's wing, with lines and webs finely tinted. Look at that enamelled jug with a pipe at the top. Near by is a perfect leaf on a small branch.

Do see this worm, ringed around with dark purple stripes. Isn't it queer? In that corner is a trumpet, splendidly colored inside. That shape over there must be a fool's cap, one mass of sheeny tints inside. Here are beautifully rounded little bowls, all scalloped around the top; ah, see them glisten and change shades as the light strikes them!

See the beetle-bugs, with horns sticking out in every direction. And if here isn't a perfect shape of a lady's slipper! The lady should wear it inside out, so all could see its exquisite mother-o'-pearl.

Here are shells exactly like the feathery wing of a bird, and how birdie would enjoy snuggling his soft head against the exquisite smoothness of these shells!

Is that a large carrot split lengthwise? It looks like it, but no carrot split along its length ever brought to light such rainbows as glint along these. Those shells looking so much like rattles would amuse a lot of babies if they could play in the mermaid's cave. They would try to catch the fine colors, and might cry when they changed and changed, and then appeared to dance away.

Those serpents, some half uncoiled, some out straight, will not bite. Those flashes are not from dangerous eyes, but are only fine shell tints.

Here are a lot of squat jars for holding small ornaments. They are ornaments themselves. Are they not? And what queer combs with three shining rows of teeth, each tooth a point of color.

Really, I might as well stop. There would be no use in trying to describe a third of these shapes, and as to coloring, with all I have said, you can have but a faint idea of the soft, brilliant, ever changing hues and gleams in the mermaid's cave.