The mermaid is a young lady who lives in the sea. Why she lives in the sea in preference to dry land, is not so clear, unless it saves rent.
    A Mermaid is very careful of her costume, which consists chiefly of her hair, and never goes out without her umbrella to protect it in case of rain.
    At home, these people have convenences and comforts not possessed by ordinary mortals, conspicuous among which are their excellent water privilages. They have water up and down stairs, and in the basement, and washrooms in every corner of the house. They are brought up to go in swimming whenever they please. Sometimes a resplendant creature will sit at the piano and sing, ‘Mother may I go out to swim?’ and then climb upon the mantle piece and take a plunge before the old lady can say, ‘Yes, my darling daughter,’ &c.
    I do not know what they do for a livelihood, unless they take in washing, but it cannot be denied that they get along swimmingly.
    They are never troubled with the dust, which is another advantage of being a Mermaid; and they are never obliged to water the flowers, except in the very dryest season.
    They are very neighborly, and it is seldom you will see the pump-handle chained down to keep others from using the water.
    The old lady Mermaid is careful of her children’s health, and may often be heard to say : ‘Mary Ann, you and Becky Jane fetch Gailia Hamilton Fish right in the house this instant. The fust thing you know you'll get your feet wet, and then you’ll be howlin’ around with the croup!’
    There is a great deal of unwritten history connected with the Mermaid which ought to he supplied. Like other maids, they sometimes betray unsuspecting young men. One of them fell in love with Leander, if you remember; and one day, when he was taking a swim, she approached him, and, without an introduction, she insisted upon him accompanying her home. She was very beautiful, and Leander did not make a great kick against going.
    According to Mr. Hood, who was a gentleman whose word could not be questioned, she bundled him up in her embrace and took him along.
    It was a bad move for Leander. He wasn't used to the climate into which he was being hurried, and he lasted about as long as it would take you to say ‘Grannywillyourdogbitenochildno’ without any punctuation marks or any thing else to delay you.
    There was no coroner on hand to hold an inquest on the drowned boy ; but had there been, a clear case could have been made out against the love-sick Mermaid. Could have been made out, mark you. There is no telling what the jury would have returned. It is more than likely, however, that the verdict would have been : ‘We, the,’ &c., find that the deceased came to his death by being kicked in the stomach by a mule, not knowing that the same was loaded.’
    It was a peculiarly sad case. Leander had left a young bride on shore, who was waiting his return with warm kisses on her lips and hot biscuits on the stove.
    P. S.—If you do not think of it before, please stop the press to say that Mermaids do not chew gum.

The Democratic Press. (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]), 04 Oct. 1877. Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. Lib. of Congress.