At the hotel near the seaside, where I staid last summer, there was a
little fellow who was known to the guests as Captain Bob. He was from
the West, where he had never seen a large sheet of water. But, at his
first sight of old Ocean, he gave him his heart.

Old Ocean seemed to return the tender liking; for he was very kind to
Captain Bob, who was nearly all day at the seaside, running some sort of
risk. There was nobody to prevent his going in to swim as often as he
chose.

Nobody had taught Captain Bob to swim. How he learned he could not
explain. He was always ready to venture into a boat. He took to sculling
and rowing quite as naturally as a duck takes to swimming.

One morning, we were all made sad by the report that Captain Bob was
missing. He had not been seen since noon the previous day. Messengers
were sent in every direction to make inquiries after the captain.
Several persons said, that, the last they had seen of him, he was
standing by the big post on the wharf, with a little boat in his hand
that an old sailor had made for him.

Two days were at an end, and still there was no news of Captain Bob. His
parents and friends were greatly distressed. But, on the morning of the
third day, there was a shout from some of the gentlemen on the piazza;
and, on hastening to find out what was the matter, whom should I see but
Captain Bob, borne on the shoulders of two young men, and waving his cap
over his head.