“‘One doesn’t need fins to swim with,’ replied my father. ‘Frogs do not have them, yet they manage to swim beautifully. If Jacques will examine those which he disturbs when he approaches the bank, if he studies the way they keep their heads out of the water in order to breathe, and the art with which they manage their arms and legs, in directing themselves about in that beautiful fresh water which so frightens your nephew, he will receive from these little animals a swimming lesson superior to any that your gardener can give him.’ “‘That is very true’, uncle Antoine replied. ‘Go, Jacques,—go take your lesson. It has never before occurred to me what services my frogs could render you.’ “I was about to start, when my father stopped me with a gesture. [Illustration] “‘You understand, do you not Jacques, exactly what you are permitted to do? I have still, however, to tell you what you must not do: you are not to set foot upon the St. Jacques; this is forbidden until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?’ “‘Yes, father, I understand, but⸺’ “‘There isn’t any “but,”’ replied my father. “Uncle Antoine threw me a compassionate look. However, this look was only meant to say: ‘I am sorry, Jacques, but your father has spoken. I have nothing to say.’ “I did, one after another, the things which were authorized. I ate some cherries, I picked some strawberries, gave grain to the chickens, and cabbage-leaves to our rabbits. I re-read, lying in the hammock, two chapters of my ‘Swiss Family Robinson,’ but, far from making me sleepy, this book awoke in me a longing for adventure. I then directed my steps towards the river. I had, however, the wisdom not to go in the direction of the boat,—that is to say, in the direction of temptation. I regarded the flowing water curiously, and found real pleasure in doing so. My uncle’s river was not one of those lazy streams of which the movement is imperceptible. How could it rest mute between its borders, when it was forced to carry its fresh water past the lands of a hundred owners, which, from the right and the left, cried to it—‘Wet us,’ ‘Refresh us,’ ‘We are dying of thirst.’