IN THE SHETLANDS 325 
must be more than twice the weight, I think, of the 
very largest phoca—phoca Antiquarius, as 1 would call 
the latter: lovers of Scott will take me. It is the 
great barrel of the body that is so immense. The 
build and general appearance is much more that of 
a walrus than of an ordinary seal. The fore-feet seem 
more modified, are more fin-like in appearance, than 
those of the latter, which are rounded—soft, round, 
fat pads—muffin-shaped, more like little cushions 
than fins; but here there is an approach to the true 
fin, an elongation and narrowing, and the toes all 
point inwards and tailwards. 
As the water steals imperceptibly upon him, 
Falstaff—as I shall now always call him—stretches 
himself enjoyably, and makes some leviathan-like 
movements of his hinder, or tail, parts, looking 
somnolently up, from time to time, seeming to say, 
*“O ocean, let me rest.” How consummately happy 
he looks ! lazily, sleepily happy—a god-like condition. 
Heroics for those who enjoy them—they are generally 
all in falsetto. The “cycle of Cathay” for me, and 
the untroubled sea-sleep of this grand old Proteus 
here! A good deal of his lower surface, and the 
whole of the rock he lies on, is now quite hidden 
by the sea, but still he sleeps or dozes on—immense, 
immovable—as though he were life-anchored there. 
At length, with a mighty yawn and stretch, he turns 
full upon his vasty stomach, and immediately, by 
virtue of the different appearance which his fur has 
when wet or dry, becomes a much smaller seal that 
