From the 5th of October, St. Paul is gradually deserted by the sea bears, who then migrate to the south, and reappear towards the end of April,--the males arriving first. Each seeks the same spot on the shore which he occupied during the preceding year, and lies down among the large stone blocks with which the flat beach is covered. About the middle of May the far more numerous females begin to make their appearance, and Otarian life takes full possession of the strand. The full-grown sea-bear is from eight to nine feet long, measures five in girth, and acquires a weight of from eight to nine hundred pounds. He owes his name to his shaggy blackish fur, and not to his disposition, which is far from being cruel or savage. He indulges in polygamy like a Turk or a Mormon, and has often as many as fifty wives. The young are generally lively, fond of play and fight. When one of them has thrown another down, the father approaches with a growl, caresses the victor, tries to overturn him, and shows increasing fondness the better he defends himself. Lazy and listless youngsters are objects of his dislike, and these hang generally about their mother. The male is very much attached to his wives, but treats them with all the severity of an oriental despot. When a mother neglects to carry away her young, and allows it to be taken, she is made to feel his anger. He seizes her with his teeth, and strikes her several times, not over gently, against a cliff. As soon as she recovers from the stunning effects of these blows, she approaches her lord in the most humble attitudes, crawls to his feet, caresses him, and even sheds tears, as Steller, the companion of Behring's second voyage, informs us. Meanwhile the male crawls about to and fro, gnashes his teeth, rolls his eyes, and throws his head from side to side. But when he sees that his young is irrevocably lost, he then, like the mother, begins to cry so bitterly, that the tears trickle down upon his breast. In his old age the ursine seal is abandoned by his wives, and spends the remainder of his life in solitude, fasting, and sleeping; an indolence from which he can only be roused by the intrusion of another animal, when a tremendous battle is the consequence. Though extremely irascible, the sea-bears are lovers of fair play, so that when two are fighting, the others form a ring, and remain spectators until the contest is decided. Then, however, they take the part of the weaker, which so enrages the victor that he immediately attacks the peace-makers. These in turn fall out, the dreadful roaring attracts new witnesses, and the whole ends, like an Irish wedding, with a general fight.