Eventually, I did find a source in France, by simply looking up marbles, or billes, in the Yellow Pages, on a bet. I lost; there was a single entry, billes, industrielles. Why would a whole warehouse specialize in industrial marbles? You know that click-click-click sound when you shake up a can of spray paint?

The slingshot was originally intended for the ducks. For launching bread to them. I soon found out however, that I had not counted on the terminal velocity of French baguettes. Even when I stretched the elastic band dangerously close to the breaking point (its and mine), the fodder would flutter out of the air, like a wounded duck, only a few meters down range.

Soon I discovered
a more satisfying sport: shooting at bottles that float by from time to time. (Glass bottles only. One of my shots rebounded off a plastic Badoit bottle and reversed its trajectory back onto my roof, sort of like a "Man bites dog" headline-- "Bottle fights back.") My personal record is 11 kills plus three doubles and six pings in a day, set July 7, 1992. That is to say, I sank 11 bottles, three of which required a second hit to send the remains down to sleep with the fishes. I scored glancing shots on six others that remained afloat.

There are few things as satisfying as nailing a bottle. Test your aim and give it a try yourself. (This game requires Shockwave Plug-in. Download Shockwave if you don't have it.)

As near as I can tally, I've put about 15,000 marbles at the bottom of the Seine so far, plus a few hundred bottles that happened to be floating by. Don't bother pulling out your calculator. That's about one hit in four (give or take a decimal place). Usually a specific question and a certain comment arise when the sheer magnitude of these numbers sinks in. You may want to stop and reflect for a moment before going on . . .

The answer to the question is: about 15 feet deep -- and rising imperceptibly every year. The comment is usually some speculation along the lines, "Hmmm. I wonder what archeologists will think a thousand years from now when they dredge through the layers of mud at the bottom?" This must be touching on some universal Jungian truth because almost everyone eventually mentions this point.

Conscientious archeologists will manage to figure it out. One day a jar with a wide plastic lid came floating by, turned end on so the only thing visible was the plastic lid. It was a slow day, so I shot anyway. To my surprise, I nailed it on the first shot. The marble pierced the lid and lodged inside the bottle which promptly sank. This jar with a hole in the lid and a marble inside will surely be my Rosetta Stone.