Very different from the doubtful notions I held about dolphins were my ideas of a whale as seen at sea, for in the representation of these huge monsters of the deep, all painters and gravers are unanimous in opinion, and alike in their mode of portraiture. Accordingly I knew perfectly well, when summoned from my cabin by the report of a whale being in sight, that I should behold an enormous black mass standing far out of the water, with a huge semicircular mouth surmounted by two trumpet-like apertures, from which a double stream of clear water was perpetually flung some forty or fifty feet into the air, falling again in a graceful curve, precisely like the “jets-d'eau” in ancient gardens. With such a foregone conclusion as to what was to be seen, I came on deck, and gazed round in search of the living fountain I describe; my inability to discover it being rendered tenfold more vexatious by hearing the sailors and others exclaim, “There she spouts!” “She spouts again!” till Mr. Meredith, seeing me vacantly scanning the whole horizon, drew my attention to one particular spot, where, after looking intently for about a minute, I observed something like a puff of steam rise gently from the water; and this was the spouting of a whale! Many a time since have I laughed at the recollection, but the shock my faith then received it will never recover, nor shall I ever forget the useful lesson I then learned, not to take too much on credit.