th. I demanded to know why he
had assaulted me upon the head and what he did it with.

It developed, though, that he had not struck me at all. The boom swung
round and hit me. This is a heavy section of lumber, and I think it is
called a boom from the hollow, ringing sound it makes when dashing out
the brains of amateur sailors. In my judgment these booms are dangerous
and their presence should not be permitted aboard a sailing craft--or,
at least, they should be towed a safe distance aft.

But I digress. Referring to the devastating and angry elements that
encompassed us, the owner of the boat said there was now a nice,
fresh breeze blowing, and that he hated to miss the fun; but if I
preferred to he would run back in and hug the shore. Hug it! I was ready
to kiss it! What I wanted to do was to take that dear shore in both arms
and press my throbbing cheeks against her mossy breast, and swear that
nothing should ever again come between me and the solid part of the
continent of North America.

So, by a sheer miracle escaping death on the way, we returned, and I
betook myself off of that craft and headed straight for the clubhouse. I
wish to take advantage of this opportunity, however, to deny the report
subsequently circulated by certain malicious persons to the effect that
I was scared. Any passing agitation I may have betrayed was due to my
relief at finding that the cyclone, despite its fury, had not swept the
North Atlantic Coast bare. I also wish to deny the story that I was
pale. I have one of those complexions that come and go. Anybody who
knows me will tell you that.

However, I have decided to give up sailboating; and, to a person of my
shape and conservative tendencies, this leaves the field of outdoor
sport considerably circumscribed. I am too peaceful for baseball and not
warlike enough for football. I had thought some of taking up tennis, but
have been deterred by the fact that so many young women excel at tennis.
I could stand being licked by another man, but the idea of facing one of
those sinewy young-lady champions whose stalwart face looks out at you
from the sporting page is repellent to me.

I can understand why so very few of these ultra-athletic college girls
marry off early. A man instinctively is drawn to the clinging-vine type
of female. If there is any sturdy oak round the place he wants to be it.
But what I cannot understand is how these brawny young persons can be
the granddaughters and