“How is he this morning, Nancy?“ asked a
soft voice.
“Good deal better, Miss, de Laad be prase! He eat ail him brokefast, and den him asked such a lot ob questions; but I no answer him.“
“What did he say?“
“He wanted to know who de beautiful young lady was dat tended him so sweetly.”
“Hush!“ cried the soft voice, “perhaps he is awake.”
“No, him snore just now.”
That was a flat lie. I never snored: but I confess I breathed rather harder than usual, and shut my eyes, as I felt that she was gazing on me. But the rest of the conversation being carried on in a whisper, I thought it was no use feigning sleep any longer, and so I said, in a languid tone,
“Nancy, have I been asleep?“
“Ess, massa sleep nicely, long time.”
Just then the doctor came in, and, after sundry questions, he pronounced me in a fair way of recovery. I fancied I saw the angel’s eyes brighten at the news, but it might have been fancy: at any rate, the idea was consolatory, and I treasured it accordingly.
But why linger over this part of my narrative? Softly! I was in love; and those who have experienced the beautiful dreams and the strange inquietude of that all-absorbing passion, can understand how the memory clings to those scenes, and how the mind wanders back to them, cherishing in the most sacred region of the heart the words and the actions of the beloved object. Phoo! what am I talking about? Love! what is love, hey? Well, it's something very funny and delightful — something that sets the blood coursing through the veins at the bare thought of the time when that sacred flame was first kindled in the bosom.
I was not long in discovering the how, the why, and the wherefore of the whole affair. It appeared that I had, thanks to the lateral motion of my body, descended almost clear of the rocks; and the first intimation those in the boat had of my disaster was hearing me plunge into the sea. I was picked up and conveyed to Old Roads Estate, it being the nearest habitation I could be conveyed to; and there, thanks to the kindness of Mrs. Semper and her daughter, I had been carefully attended through a most serious fever. I recovered slowly, in fact I think I lingered longer than was absolutely necessary. I liked the tender, soothing care which was bestowed upon me as an invalid. I was never tired of being in the society of this beautiful young creature, whose very soul seemed to well up kindly feeling and poetry of thought; and who listened with wrapped attention to my marvellous yams, chiding me in the gentlest tones when they were too strong for even her credulous ear. It was to me a season of the deepest enjoyment, and I dreaded to break the spell.
Walking in the cool of the evening, I somehow told her of my love. How I did it, or what I said, I have no very distinct notion. What I do know is, that, after a few tears of joy, and some very delicious kisses, it was all right.
Some one who has just looked over my shoulder says it is not fair to tell tales, and therefore I, “as in duty bound, desist without further comment.
But I will say, and she cannot deny it, that we have no reason to regret, in spite of my broken head and arm, my visit to Redonda, the Isle of Boobies.
THE SWIMMING-SCHOOL FOR WOMEN AT PARIS.
As many parents are wishing to know how girls can be taught the use of their limbs in the water, it may be interesting to them to hear how the art is taught at Paris.
The water is that of the Seine. This is the least agreeable circumstance in the case, as the water of the Seine is quite as unfragrant in the summer months as that of the Thames. Whether it is purified on entering the baths, I do not know.
Let us hope it is. The bath is moored in the river, and the space occupied by water is 120 feet in length; a course long enough to afford room for all the exercises connected with swimming. A wooden platform, three or four feet under water, reaches to about the middle of the width of the bath; and this is for the use of children, and mere bathers who do not swim. The other half is of a considerable depth in the middle, admitting of practice in genuine diving.
The dress is excellent for the purpose. It is made of a light woollen fabric, which does not absorb much water. The trousers are loose, and fastened at the ancles. The upper dress, also loose, extends to the knee, and is belted round the waist, and closed at the neck. It is just as decent a dress as English ladies used to wear when Bath was called “The Bath,” and when wigged gentlemen and powdered ladies used to wade about in full trim, and chat in the water. The first step in the process of teaching is to make the pupil understand how to keep on the surface, and how to sink to the bottom. Most people know that to spread out the limbs is to float, and to double one’s self up is to sink: but it is not everybody who knows that the quickest way of going to the bottom is to raise the arms above the head. This is precisely what women do when they fall out of a boat, or find themselves overboard in a shipwreck. Up go their arms in their terror; and down they go to the bottom like a shot. This is the action used by divers, who want to reach their point by the shortest way.
From the ceiling of the Paris bath hangs a rope, which travels along on a sort of crane. Where this rope touches the water, a broad belt is attached to it. This belt is fastened easily about the pupil’s waist, supporting her in the water, and leaving her at liberty to learn the action of the limbs in swimming. She is made perfect in these, and must then try her powers without support.
To render her safe and preclude fear, the instructor (who is a master and not a mistress), walks along the edge, just before her, holding a pole within her reach, which she can grasp in an instant, if fatigued, or alarmed. It does not follow that we must have swimming-masters in England. The art is taught all along the rivers of Germany, and invariably by women in the women’s baths. In