natural motions. Later on he taught her not to fear the sea even
when it growled a little,--how to ride a swell, how to face a
breaker, how to dive. She only needed practice thereafter; and
Carmen, who could also swim, finding the child's health improving
marvellously under this new discipline, took good care that Chita
should practice whenever the mornings were not too cold, or the
water too rough.

With the first thrill of delight at finding herself able to glide
over the water unassisted, the child's superstitious terror of
the sea passed away. Even for the adult there are few physical
joys keener than the exultation of the swimmer;--how much greater
the same glee as newly felt by an imaginative child,--a child,
whose vivid fancy can lend unutterable value to the most
insignificant trifles, can transform a weed-patch to an Eden! ...
Of her own accord she would ask for her morning bath, as soon as
she opened her eyes;--it even required some severity to prevent
her from remaining in the water too long. The sea appeared to
her as something that had become tame for her sake, something
that loved her in a huge rough way; a tremendous playmate, whom
she no longer feared to see come bounding and barking to lick her
feet. And, little by little, she also learned the wonderful
healing and caressing power of the monster, whose cool embrace at
once dispelled all drowsiness, feverishness, weariness,--even
after the sultriest nights when the air had seemed to burn, and
the mosquitoes had filled the chamber with a sound as of water
boiling in many kettles. And on mornings when the sea was in too
wicked a humor to be played with, how she felt the loss of her
loved sport, and prayed for calm! Her delicate constitution
changed;--the soft, pale flesh became firm and brown, the meagre