And there's this about the Old Swimming-hole, or there was in my day: There were no women and girls fussing around aid squalling: “Now, you stop splashin' water on me! Quit it now! Quee-yut!” I don't think t looks right for women folks to have anything to do with water in large quantities. On a sail-boat, now, they are the very--but perhaps we had better not go into that. At a picnic, indeed, trey used to take off their shoes and stockings and paddle their feet in the water, but that was as much as ever they did. They never thought of going in swimming. Even at the seashore, now when Woman is so emancipated, they go bathing not swimming. I don't like to see a woman swim any more than I like to see a woman smoke a cigar. And for the same reason. It is more fun than she is entitled to. A woman's place is home minding the baby, and cooking the meals. Nothing would do her but she had to be born a woman, she had the same liberty of choice that we men had. Very well, I say, let her take the consequencies. It is only natural, then, that she should refuse to let her boys go swimming. She pays off her grudge that way. Just because she can't go herself she is bound the they shan't either. She says they will get drowned, but we know about that. It is only an excuse to keep them from having a little fun. She has to say something. They won't get drowned. Why, the idea! They haven't the least intention of any such thing. “Well, but Robbie, supposing you couldn't help yourself?” “How couldn't help myself?” “Why, get the cramps. Suppose you got the cramps, then what?” “Aw, pshaw! Cramps nothin'! They hain't no sich of a thing. And, anyhow, if I did get 'em, wouldn't jist kick 'em right out. This way.” “Now, Robbie, you know you did have a terrible cramp in your foot just only the other night. Don't you remember?” “Aw, that! That ain't nothin'. That ain't the cramps that drownds people. Didn't I tell you wouldn't fist kick it right out? That's what they all do when they git the cramps. But they don't nobody git 'em now no more.” “I don't want you to go in the water and get drowned. You know you can't swim.” This is too much. Oh, this is rank injustice! Worse yet, it is bad logic. “How 'm I ever goin' to learn if you don't let me go to learn?” “Well, you can't go, and that's the end of it.” Isn't that just like a woman? Perfectly unreasonable! Dear! dear! “Now, Ma, listen here. S'posin' we was all goin' some place on a steamboat, me and you and Pa and the baby and all of us, and--” “That won't ever happen, I guess.” “CAN'T YOU LET ME TELL YOU? And s'posin' the boat was to sink, and I could swim and save you from drown--” “You're not going swimming, and that's all there is about it.” “Other boys' mas lets them go. I don't see why I can't go.” No answer. “Ma, won't you let me go? I won't get drowned, hope to die if I do. Ma, won't you let me go? Ma! Ma-a!--Maw-ah!” “Stop yelling at me that way. Good land! Do you think I'm deaf?”