reading the Odyssey. The mate came and sat down by me on the booby-hatch.
"What are you reading?" he asked as usual.
"About the Sirens," I answered.
The strangest alteration came over his expression.
"Did you ever notice," he asked, "how little Homer really tells about them?"
"I was meditating on just that," I replied. He tells only that there were two of them and that they sang. I was wondering where the popular notions of their appearance came from."
"What is your idea of the popular notions of their appearance?" he demanded.
"I have a very vague idea," I confessed. "They are generally supposed to have had bird's feet. It seems to me I have seen figures of them as so depicted on Greek tombs and coins. And there is Boecklin's picture."
"Boecklin?" he ruminated. "The Munich man? The morbid man?"
"If you choose to call him so?" I assented. "I shouldn't call him morbid."
"His ugly idea is a mere personal conception," he said.
"I grant you that," I agreed, "as far as the age and the ugliness go. But the birds' feet of some kind are in the general conception."
"The general conception is wrong," he asserted,
