“‘Afraid of the water? The child is not _afraid_ of it,’ said mamma. “‘It is only the cold which he dislikes,’ added my aunt. “‘Really! And you can suggest no other remedy than to heat the brooks and the rivers, the lakes and the seas, expressly for our little darling? That would be, according to your ideas, a reform more easily carried out than the correction of his fear of cold water!’ “‘Correction! Correction!’ replied aunt Marie impatiently. ‘One can not “correct” one’s nervous system at will, my dear brother, one has to cure it as one can. There are certain organisms which must be left to correct themselves, with age. Our Jacques is brave in many ways, as you well know; he has really only one fear,—that of contact with cold water. Well, that will pass in time, as he grows older.’ “‘Time! time!’ returned my father, ‘time passes, but not our defects, when, instead of correcting them, we leave them alone, or envelop them in cotton. Sister Marie, do not change my boy into a little girl.’ “‘Your son,’ responded aunt Marie, ‘is as yet neither a boy nor a girl: he is an angel, and you ought to be glad of it.’ “‘Glad!’ replied my father. ‘I can tell you about that better on my return. However, I reserve the right of trying to find a young sailor in your angel, some fine morning. I will not take you unawares. I have warned both you and my wife. When I come back, I will take your little Jacques with me in a boat, and whether he knows how to swim or not, I will make him brave, in spite of himself.’ “This conversation made my aunt and my mother tremble. Although they were apparently against me, they were really on my side. They tried to encourage me, telling me I should be a sailor first, and a brave one,—an admiral soon after. This delighted me. ‘What a pity, though,’ I said to myself, ‘that water is so cold and wet, and that one can not walk on it without sinking. Why should it be so?’” * * * * *