THE PORPOISE. 389 



approach of winter. The porpoises live in numerous troops, and attract 

 attention by their merry gambols among the waves. The mackerel, the 

 herring, and the salmon flee before these turbulent troops, which are 

 sometimes so numerous that, at the moment when the individual crea- 

 tures composing them come to the surface to breathe, they darken the 

 surface of the ocean. One then sees their oily, blackish bodies shining 

 on all sides. They may often be seen shooting over the surface of the 

 sea in Indian file. 



As might be presumed from the formidable array of sharp teeth 

 with which the jaws are studded, and which are so arranged that the 

 upper and lower sets interlock when the animal closes its mouth, the 

 food of the Porpoise consists entirely of animal substances ; its voracity 

 is proverbial ; and it is a declared enemy to the fisherman, as it seems to 

 prefer to devour the most marketable kinds of fish. Alone of the Cetacea 

 it prefers the waters near the coast to the high seas, and pursues its prey 

 into shallow water, and up rivers. Even the salmon, with its enormous 

 power of leaping, cannot escape. The Porpoise prefers places where 

 the water is discolored. It swims not far below the surface, comes up 

 for an instant to breathe, and then dives again, curving its body so 

 sharply, that it seems to form a ball. It is very active before a storm, 

 and gambols about as if it were delighted at the coming tempest. It 

 was much easier to watch these creatures before our rivers and coasts 

 were so frequented by steam vessels, for the porpoises will not approach 

 them so nearly as they approach sailing vessels. 



The female produces one or two young ones at a birth, and the new- 

 born offspring are remarkable for their very great size, measuring nearly 

 one-half the length of the parent. The mother has large quantities of 

 milk of a saltish, fishy taste. 



The skin of the Porpoise is well suited for tanning, and makes 

 valuable leather. Beneath the skin is a layer of fat about an inch deep, 

 which can be melted into a very fine and delicate oil. Its flesh was 

 formerly highly valued, and was cooked with bread-crumbs and vinegar; 

 but it is unpleasing to the eye, and is said to be coarse to the taste, 

 although it graced the royal banquets of Queen Elizabeth. The Por- 

 poise has often been caught and kept for some time in captivity. When 

 alarmed, it utters continuous cries of a very distressing and plaintive 

 kind, and sheds tears in profusion. It is not known how long it would 

 live in a state of nature if unmolested. 



