uld reach him.

"Bob," said I, in a voice and manner that could not be mistaken, "if
you ever do that again I'll whip you within an inch of your life."

"I won't, pop," he replied, in such meek tones that, parent-like, my
heart reproached me at once.

"Now," I added more gently, "every boy ought to learn to swim, and
until he is able to do so, he should keep out of deep water. If you
will promise me that you will never venture into a depth above your
waist until a good swimmer, you may bathe here; otherwise you shall
never come near it."

He gave me his promise, and, telling him that he had been in the water
long enough for that afternoon, I asked him to dress himself and come
home with me.

I felt that I had been weak. I ought to have forbidden him ever to
enter the mill-pond unless in my company, and thus that which followed
never could have occurred. I did not tell his mother what had taken
place, for I knew she would insist on a strict prohibition of his
aimless swimming efforts.

To tell the truth, there were two reasons why I did not forbid Bob to
enter the mill-pond. I knew it would be the most cruel kind of
punishment, and, I may as well confess it, I didn't believe the boy
would obey me if he gave the pledge. The temptation was too strong to
be resisted. Alas! how often our affection closes our eyes to the
plainest duty!

And now I have reached a point which prompts me to ask the question at
the head of this sketch, "Who Shall Explain It?" I have my own theory,
which I shall submit, with no little diffidence, later on.

It was on Saturday afternoon, the ninth of last August, that I became a
victim to a greater depression of spirits than I had known for years.
I felt nothing of it during the forenoon, but it began shortly after
the midday meal and became more oppressive with each passing minute. I
sat down at my desk and wrote for a short time. I continually sighed
and drew deep inspirations, which gave me no relief. It was as if a
great and increasing weight were resting on my chest. Had I been
superstitious, I would have declared that I was on the eve of some
dreadful calamity.

Writing became so difficult and distasteful that I threw down my pen,
sprang from my chair, and began rapidly pacing up and down the room.
My wife had gone to the city that morning to visit her relatives, and
was not to return until the following day; so I was alone, with only
two servants in the house.

I coul