That young man had been swimming from the same place last year. He thought he was familiar with the shore. Really he had forgotten just where it was safe to dive. If he had been cautious enough to ask his comrades, or even to wade out a little further and learn the depth for himself, he would not have lost his life. Do you think it childish to be cautious? Put away the idea. The bravest men are nearly always the most careful. "Your Majesty knows not what fear is," said a courtier to King Oscar of Sweden, who had fought in many hand-to-hand battles with wonderful success. "The man who does not know what fear is," replied the King, "is a fool." And fear is only another name for over-cautiousness. "No matter how well you think you know a swimming-place, take nothing for granted. So many changes take place in a year. Sand bars are formed by the tides. If you dive from a pier, how can you know without actually investigating what timber may have been swung loose by the water's action since last year, and be now lurking for you beneath the surface? And as for swimming in strange water, never do it without learning all you can about the conditions. Henry Guy and I were chumming for bluefish in Fire Island Inlet recently. We had fine luck for a while. Suddenly the bluefish disappeared. After waiting idly a few minutes I began to yearn for a swim. The air was very warm, and the cool, green water was rippling a thousand invitations. Just as I was about to dive off the stern of our cat-boat the skipper touched my arm and shook his head. "Don't!" he exclaimed. "Why not?" "Sharks." That was all of the conversation. Before I was half dressed the skipper touched my arm and pointed at a long, dark gray object that loafed along against the tide six or eight feet below our keel. It was a shark. My hair bristled. You see it is advisable to know sometimes just where you are "at." Diving is certainly the best way for you to enter the water--always provided that you know all about its depth. Nothing can be more unhealthful than the dawdling habit of wading out ankle-deep or knee-deep, and waiting to get your courage up. The hot sun beats down on your head. Your feet and legs are in the cool water whose temperature is anywhere from ten to twenty-five degrees lower than that of the air.