Oh, but it was fine! With long, deep strokes I carried myself fairly to the middle of the pond.

The first chill was succeeded by a tingling glow, and I can convey no idea whatever of the glorious sense of exhilaration I had.

I swam with the broad front stroke, I swam on my side, head half submerged, with a deep under stroke, and I rolled over on my back and swam with the water lapping my chin.

Thus I came to the end of the pool near the old dam, touched my feet on the bottom, gave a primeval whoop, and dove back into the water again.

I have rarely experienced keener physical joy.
After swimming thus boisterously for a time, I quieted down to long, leisurely strokes, conscious of the water playing across my shoulders and singing at my ears, and finally, reaching the centre of the pond, I turned over on my back and, paddling lazily, watched the slow procession of light clouds across the sunlit openings of the trees above me.