Old Age, Gender and Physical Activity The 'older the more valuable' Philosophy and Golf The Allurement of Golf The Moral Value of Golf Every Golfer His Own Doctor The Up Swing - Golf Different forms of Swing - Golf The Making of a Putting Green A Few Golf Maxims Watering Greens The Right and the Left Hand "Strength is Health”: George Barker Windship Health Through Sport Learning to Svim Svimming Learning to Svim - Complete Confidence of Pupil Swimming - Dog Fashion The Great American Spa Boom How to Train the Body for Health and Poise Medicine, Science and Sport Running Back to Nature The Changing Face of Rugby League The Bicycle and Tricycle as Aids to Health and Recreation Passive Smoking What is Strength? Health Insurance Decisions What Makes Man a Sprinter? What to Fish for in February? Sport and its Economic and Social Importance Use of Weights for Health Long live the Revolution British Football Does Ageing Drive Health Expenditures Medicare: Policy Issues Indoor Training for Outdoor Sport Starting and Starters Insured versus Not Insured A Case for Bilateral Taxation and Amenity Rights Theories of the Universe Babylonian Astrology The Wrath of Heaven The Displaced Zodiac and the Beginnings of Astronomy The Duty of the Son of Heaven: Orientation Time Was Once Relative Why Mohammed Needed Astronomers Hamburgers - Sunday and Holiday Variations	Swimming - Dog Fashion Now, I have another little matter about swimming dog-fashion which may be worth telling, although it need not necessarily have a place in the primary education of a youngster. It may appear strange, but I really learned to swim dog-fashion under water. My first trial, as related, was partly on the surface and partly below; my second attempt was a failure, because I could not remain at the surface; while the third was partially successful, though submerged, because I at least practiced the dog-fashion strokes for brief periods. I reasoned it out that, as a boy with his lungs full of air would not sink to the bottom, what was to prevent him from filling his lungs, holding his breath, and practicing the strokes below the surface for a few seconds at a time? I waded out to where the water came to my chest, filled my lungs to their fullest capacity and started to swim toward shore. Of course, I went under, but not far, and I kept pawing away and holding my breath till my nose rooted in the sand and the top of my head was above water. I had swum about three yards, and the fact of my being under made no difference so long as I held my breath. Here was a discovery—if I worked hands and feet when under water, I had to swim, and every proper stroke almost forced me to the surface. During a second trial my strokes were better judged, and as a result my head popped above the surface before I had progressed a yard. At the fourth attempt I seemed to catch the hang of the thing, and I swam a couple of yards. Within an hour the distance from where the water was breast-deep to the shore was not long enough for my swimming powers, as I laid out a course parallel to the shore, and before I left the water I could swim for at least fifteen yards. Thus, I had learned to swim dog-fashion in one afternoon, and I can see no reason why any boy who is not afraid to go under in a depth of water where he is perfectly safe, cannot do likewise. The result of my experience may be taken for what it is worth. Furthermore, several of us who had tried the same scheme used to walk out upon a log to a point where the water was six feet deep and boldly dive toward shore. The force of the plunge, with the few strokes we were able to make while under, was quite sufficient to carry us into water not more than breast-deep, so we really ventured beyond our depth before we could swim on the surface. It is not all of swimming to swim, for the swimmer who keeps his hair dry is something like the Peri at the Gate of Paradise—he may get occasional peeps at the joys beyond, but he has but a faint idea of the pleasures of those who are inside. It is pleasant to cleave one’s way through the yielding surface, or to float at will for long periods, but the best fun of swimming lies under wate r. To the expert diver are revealed many things which are safe hidden from the eyes of others, and the swimmer who cannot dive has only mastered one branch of the art. By diving, I do not mean a plunge from some support and a hasty popping up again—but diving, à la pearl diver, hell-diver, or anything else that goes under for a definite purpose and remains under long enough to look about and examine what may be below. To attain such skill requires long practice, ’tis true, but as it is all merely a matter of practice, every swimmer should have sufficient love for his art to make him at least a moderately good diver. The diver is at home in the water; he can look about and, while his range of vision is certainly limited, he can see quite enough to afford him new pleasures, and, best of all, he alone can fully illustrate the true value of natation by bringing from below almost any object of reasonable weight. The swimmer can assist a person struggling at the surface; he can move rapidly to the spot where a drowning person has disappeared, and there his usefulness ends, so far as that particular case is concerned; but the diver can follow an unconscious body for yards below the surface, can see the glimmer of human skin far enough to guide him aright, and can grasp and bring back a fellow-creature—literally from the dead. Whether it be in rescuing an almost dead person, bringing up a dead body, or only locating and restoring valuable lost property, the art of diving offers too important possibilities to be neglected. The first step toward success in diving demands that the novice should learn to go completely under water without holding the nose, stopping the ears, or any of that sort of foolishness. The ability to open the eyes and look about and kindred accomplishments will follow in due time. The diver does not open his eyes until he is below the surface and for reasons good, as any one will guess after smartly striking the surface of the water with the back of the hand. Many people complain that the water troubles them by entering the nostrils and ears, but continued diving will cure the complaint. Any good diver can, if he chooses, go under with his mouth and eyes wide open and not be troubled by the water. Expert professionals eat, drink, pick up coins, and all that kind of thing under water, and any intelligent boy can learn to do the same. There is no magic about such feats; they merely require the skill attained by practice. I could do most of them as a lad, before I had ever heard of a professional swimmer. The longer a diver can hold his breath the more fun he can have in the shadowy depths. Many beginners cannot hold their breath longer than twenty seconds or so, but practice will work wonders in such cases. Before going under, the lungs should be slowly filled and emptied several times, and then filled to the utmost. The less the limbs are used while below the surface the longer the supply of air will last—that is, if a diver sinks quietly to the bottom and remains there for as long as his supply of air will allow, and later tries a long dive at his best speed, he will find that he stopped below many seconds longer in the first test. The boy who could only stay under for twenty seconds during his first attempt should after a couple of months of practice, be able to remain quiet under water for nearly a minute, or possibly longer. It did not require much practice to enable me to do a minute and a half without discomfort, while full two minutes was not an impossibility. But in no case should a diver try to remain below after he begins to feel distressed. One may practice holding the breath in a bath very well. I Often roll over in the tub and lie there completely covered for a minute or more, just to make sure that old “swimmm’-hole” tricks have not been forgotten. This sort of practice can do no harm and may prove useful at times, as a friend of mine will testify. He found the bottom of a northern lake, and it was a mighty good job for him that the water was clear; for he was eighteen feet from air when I reached him. A good diver entirely out of practice would have been almost helpless in this instance. Half a dozen of us used to have rare sport in the old days, and two-thirds of that sport was obtained under water. Any two of us could swim down and capture the stoutest tame goose or duck on the river, and a water-snake was a choice quarry. A popular form of amusement was to tease a certain savage spaniel until he pursued us into the water. He was a rapid swimmer, and one’s only salvation when he got too close was to go under. Once well under it was an easy matter to look up toward the light, to grab one of the dog’s hind paws and to pull him under. One day I dragged him deep down, and when he at last struggled ashore he decided never again to swim after boys. An old mill scow with a heavy, twenty-foot chain used to afford much diversion. We would let the chain sink its length in the water and then climb down it in pairs to look at each other. If any one wants to know how a person’s face looks far under water a glance at his reflection in the side of a silver sugar. bowl, a polished metal ball, or one of those curved mirrors used to startle the unwary will enlighten him. A boy had to have his laugh well corked in if he remained ten seconds at the lower end of the chain. These things are a few of the funny experiences of diving. Young readers may discover many more.