AMPHIBIAN' MILLIONS. 287 



and patter incessantly, until evaporation slowly abates the nuisance 

 for a time only, inasmuch as the next day, perhaps, brings more rain 

 and the dirty pools are replenished. 



The pups sometimes get so thoroughly plastered in these mud- 

 dy, slimy puddles, that the hair falls off in patches, giving them, at 

 first sight, the appearance of being troubled with scrofula or some 

 other plague : from my investigations directed to this point, I be- 

 came satisfied that they were not permanently injured, though evi- 

 dently very much annoyed. With reference to this suggestion as 

 to sickness or distemper among these seals, I gave the subject direct 

 and continued attention, and in no one of the rookeries could I 

 discover a single seal, no matter how old or young, which appeared 

 to be suffering in the least from any physical disorder other than 

 that which they themselves had inflicted, one upon the other, by 

 fighting. The third season, passing directly under my observation, 

 failed to reward my search with any manifestation of disease among 

 the seals which congregate in such mighty numbers on those rooker- 

 ies of St. Paul and St. George. That remarkable freedom from all 

 such complaints enjoyed by these animals is noteworthy, and a 

 most trenchant and penetrating cross-questioning of the natives 

 also failed to give me any history or evidence of an epidemic in the 

 past. 



The observer will, however, notice every summer, gathered in 

 melancholy squads of a dozen to one hundred or so (scattered along 

 the coast where the healthy seals never go), those sick and disabled 

 bulls which have, in the earlier part of the season, been either in- 

 ternally injured or dreadfully scarred by the teeth of their oppo- 

 nents in fighting. Sand is blown by strong wind into their fresh 

 wounds, causing inflammation and sloughing which very often 

 finishes the life of a victim. The sailors term these invalid gath- 

 erings "hospitals," a phrase which, like the most of their homely 

 expressions, is quite appropriate. 



Early in August, usually by the 8th or 10th, I noticed one of 

 the remarkable movements of the season. I refer to the pup's first 

 essay in swimming. Is it not odd paradoxical that the young 

 seal, from the moment of his birth until he is a month or six 

 weeks old, is utterly unable to swim ? If he is seized by the 

 nape of the neck and pitched out a rod into the water from 

 shore, his bullet-like head will drop instantly below the surface, 

 and his attenuated posterior extremities flap impotently on it 



