The pleasures of natation need not be dwelt on. To feel oneself completely at home in a new element, to lose the sense of ponderosity, to be able to move one’s limbs in any direction through an unresisting medium, is to enjoy, for the moment, the pleasures of existence of a different order of animals. To feel not the weight of the flesh which we often find “too, too solid” on terra firma; to dart hither and thither at will, roll over on side or back, or dive into the depths beneath us, is little short of ecstasy; we are no longer a terrestrial animal, we have entered a new phase of existence, we are a fish, our limbs are fins, and the water is our element. He who passes through life without learning to swim misses one of the purest pleasures life affords, and deserves to be drowned in a six-foot pond. The uses of swimming are obvious. To be drowned by the upsetting of a pleasure boat within a few yards of the shore—can anything be more pitiful? To see our friend, perhaps our child, perish because we cannot swim a few yards to save him—can anything be more painful? Think of the number of lives that have been lost by inability to swim, of the number of lives that have been saved by the possession of this faculty. He who cannot swim is as far from being perfectly educated as he who cannot walk.[1] [1] I believe that no arrangements exist for teaching our soldiers or sailors swimming (except in the training ships, whence a few of our sailors are derived), the consequence of which is that a very small proportion of the men in either service can swim. In some Continental countries, particularly France, every soldier is taught to swim just as he is taught his drill, and yet French soldiers are not nearly so much exposed to “perils of waters” as our own.