o let alone. His greatest foe is the
cat, which watches patiently at the hole where the destructive little
fellow is digging and usually catches him. A mother cat will sometimes
bring in two or three gophers a day to her kittens.

IN SALT WATER AND FRESH

Tom and Retta Ransom were two of the happiest children in the state,
I believe, when told that their summer vacation was to be spent at
Catalina Island. To see the wonderful fish that swim in those warm,
Southern waters, to watch them through the glass-bottomed boat, to
dip out funny sea-flowers with a net, or catch the pretty kingfish and
perhaps a "yellowtail,"--why, they could talk of nothing else!

How they skipped and danced and chattered about the trip! At
last Mamma said, "Well, everything is packed and ready, and we go
to-morrow." Then what fun it was to stand on the steamer's deck and
sail "right out through the Golden Gate," as Retta said. The big
green billows of the Pacific Ocean caught the boat as she crossed the
outside bar and tossed salt spray almost into their faces. Little the
children cared for the drops of water, for they were so glad to be
off on their trip and to say good-by to San Francisco's summer fog and
cold winds for a time.

And there on Seal Rocks, near the Cliff House, were the seals, or
rather sea-lions, clumsy creatures like black rubber sacks with
fins, or flippers, and a head. Some were lying in the sun and others
crawling up the steep, wet rocks. Those highest up were asleep and
quiet, but most of them kept barking or growling as they tried to find
a sunny place to bask in. Sometimes when frightened these sea-lions
will pitch headlong from high rocks into the ocean and dive out of
sight at once. Mrs. Ransom said she remembered seeing one that was
kept for years in a salt-water tank, and that, although they seem so
clumsy, this sea-lion jumped so quick that he caught a fish thrown to
him before it touched the water. Once fur-seals were in great numbers
off our coast, and lived on the rocks as these sea-lions now do. But
Indians, or later on white hunters, killed them, or drove them up
north where the crack of the rifle is not heard.

On to the south the steamer sailed through the foaming waters, and as
Tom stood watching the white-capped waves go dancing by, he saw, two
or three times, a black fin come up, and then another. At last a man
said, "Look at the porpoises playing." Tom screamed with delight as
they jumped and