ts me against him, but a
flying-fish and a Dolphin cannot live along the same wave.

There is another page in my history that must be mentioned.

Several hundred years ago our flesh used to be eaten, and what is more,
it was thought to be fine, so that only those who had a great deal of
money could afford to have it on their tables. But nowadays we are never
used for food, but are thought to be coarse, and not nearly as nice as
most other kinds of fish.

All right! We are very glad not to be in danger of being devoured. We go
sailing along under the bright surface of the sea, in groups of just
ourselves, and such leaps as we can take! By and by, you will hear of
leaps I have taken which have been the means of my learning a great
deal.

Away we scud, passing ships that think they are going pretty fast, but,
O Neptune! our fins and tails take us along at a spanking rate, which
makes the ships seem slow.

In one thing we are much like Folks. Don't laugh, please, but we are
very, very fond of music. Sometimes we catch the sound of voices singing
on a vessel, and up we go, leaping fairly into the air to get as near
the sound as possible.

And should there be a violin, a guitar, flute, or a cornet--oh, yes, I
know them all!--on a passing vessel, we float alongside just far enough
under water to keep our bodies out of sight, while we take in the
strains in our own peculiar way. For although our ears might be hard to
find, we yet absorb or draw in sound very readily.

And now that you know quite a little about the Dolphin family, I will
tell you some things that may interest you about my watery home. For
home, you know, is wherever one lives, whether it be in the air, on the
earth, in the earth, or in the waters under the earth.

CHAPTER II.

UNDER THE WAVES

Pretty soon I must describe my playground, but first you must learn a
few simple things about the place I love best of all places in the
world, my home in the deep, deep sea.

Do you suppose that when the sky is dark and threatening up where you
live, and when the wind is blowing like a hurricane, and the great waves
lash about, acting as if mad, that there is great disturbance far below?

Do you suppose that when shipmasters are shouting out orders to the
crew, and trying to keep their vessels from turning topsy-turvy or going
down out of sight, that the fishes are scampering about wild, driven
here and there by the fierce winds, and scared half to