dissipated all such anticipations, and we lay off and on by the
Farallone Islands all the night of the 29th.

We saw a great many diver birds, about the size of pigeons. While
sailing along on the water, they would all at once dive and disappear,
and remain under water a long while.

The Farallone Islands are a small group of rocky islets, lying in the
Pacific Ocean, about thirty-five miles west of San Francisco. There are
two groups of them, the North and South Farallones, about eight miles
distant from each other. The southern islands are the most important.
On the summit of the largest rock, which is about three hundred and
fifty feet high, is a lighthouse. The only person on the island is the
light-keeper. The islands are one vast menagerie. Birds of many
varieties make their home here by swarms, and thousands of sea-lions and
seals cover the rocks.

[Illustration: SEA LION.--Page 213.]

"What are _sea-lions_?" asked Harry.

A species of seal often as large as an ox, and weighing from two to
three thousand pounds each. They make a very loud noise, a sort of
moaning cry, like "yoi hoey, yoi hoey." The young seals are of a dark
mouse color, but the older ones are of a light-brown. At a distance the
braying of these sea-lions sounded like the rumbling of a railroad
train. There is a hole in the rock on one of these islands, where the
air is drawn through with a sound like the whistle of a steam-engine.

Every spot and foothold on these rocks seems to be the abode of a bird
or seal; the waters around swarm with life, while large flocks of birds
are coming from every direction. Vast quantities of eggs are taken from
these rocks and carried to the San Francisco market every year.

We left the Farallones about three o'clock in the morning, and when we
came on deck, they were fading in the dim distance.

One of the first objects noticed as we approached the coast was Fort
Point, where is a massive fortification, well mounted with heavy guns.
Between this point and Lime Point is the celebrated Golden Gate, which
is about a mile wide and is the entrance into the bay of San Francisco.
Connected with Fort Point is a lighthouse and fog-bell; the latter is
always rung during foggy weather.

In the bay just opposite the Golden Gate, and about three and a half
miles from Fort Point, is Alcatraces Island. It commands the entrance
to the great bay of San Francisco. About the center of the island is a
large building which ma