The Fisherman and the Merman

Of mermen and merwomen many strange stories are told in the Shetland
Isles. Beneath the depths of the ocean, according to these stories, an
atmosphere exists adapted to the respiratory organs of certain beings,
resembling, in form, the human race, possessed of surpassing beauty, of
limited supernatural powers, and liable to the incident of death. They
dwell in a wide territory of the globe, far below the region of fishes,
over which the sea, like the cloudy canopy of our sky, loftily rolls, and
they possess habitations constructed of the pearl and coral productions
of the ocean. Having lungs not adapted to a watery medium, but to the
nature of atmospheric air, it would be impossible for them to pass
through the volume of waters that intervenes between the submarine and
supramarine world, if it were not for the extraordinary power they
inherit of entering the skin of some animal capable of existing in the
sea, which they are enabled to occupy by a sort of demoniacal possession.
One shape they put on, is that of an animal human above the waist, yet
terminating below in the tail and fins of a fish, but the most favourite
form is that of the larger seal or Haaf-fish; for, in possessing an
amphibious nature, they are enabled not only to exist in the ocean, but
to land on some rock, where they frequently lighten themselves of their
sea-dress, resume their proper shape, and with much curiosity examine the
nature of the upper world belonging to the human race. Unfortunately,
however, each merman or merwoman possesses but one skin, enabling the
individual to ascend the seas, and if, on visiting the abode of man, the
garb be lost, the hapless being must unavoidably become an inhabitant of
the earth.

A story is told of a boat's crew who landed for the purpose of attacking
the seals lying in the hollows of the crags at one of the stacks. The
men stunned a number of the animals, and while they were in this state
stripped them of their skins, with the fat attached to them. Leaving the
carcasses on the rock, the crew were about to set off for the shore of
Papa Stour, when such a tremendous swell arose that every one flew
quickly to the boat. All succeeded in entering it except one man, who
had imprudently lingered behind. The crew were unwilling to leave a
companion to perish on the skerries, but the surge increased so fast,
that after many unsuccessful attempts to bring the boat close in to the
stack the unfortunate wight was left to his fate. A stormy night came
on, and the deserted Shetlander saw no prospect before him but that of
perishing from cold and hunger, or of being washed into the sea by the
breakers which threatened to dash over the rocks. At length, he
perceived many of the seals, who, in their flight had