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Muir, John, 1838-1914

"The Story of My Boyhood and Youth"

No harvest in the
Wisconsin woods was ever gathered with more pleasure and care. Also,
to our delight, we found plenty of hazelnuts, and in a few places
abundance of wild apples. They were desperately sour, and we used to
fill our pockets with them and dare each other to eat one without
making a face,--no easy feat.
One hot summer day father told us that we ought to learn to swim. This
was one of the most interesting suggestions he had ever offered, but
precious little time was allowed for trips to the lake, and he seldom
tried to show us how. "Go to the frogs," he said, "and they will give
you all the lessons you need. Watch their arms and legs and see how
smoothly they kick themselves along and dive and come up. When you
want to dive, keep your arms by your side or over your head, and kick,
and when you want to come up, let your legs drag and paddle with your
hands."
We found a little basin among the rushes at the south end of the lake,
about waist-deep and a rod or two wide, shaped like a sunfish's nest.
Here we kicked and plashed for many a lesson, faithfully trying to
imitate frogs; but the smooth, comfortable sliding gait of our
amphibious teachers seemed hopelessly hard to learn.


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