the race now, and he would sweep past the line
in triumph with the great bunch of flowers at the stem of his boat,
proud as Van Tromp in the British channel with the broom at his
mast-head.

He turned the boat's head a little by backing water. He came up with the
floating flowers, and near enough to reach them. He stooped and snatched
them up, with the loss perhaps of a second in all,--no more. He felt
sure of his victory.

How can one tell the story of the finish in cold-blooded preterites?
Are we not there ourselves? Are not our muscles straining with those of
these sixteen young creatures, full of hot, fresh blood, their nerves
all tingling like so many tight-strained harp-strings, all their life
concentrating itself in this passionate moment of supreme effort? No! We
are seeing, not telling about what somebody else once saw!

--The bow of the Algonquin passes the stern of the Atalanta!

--The bow of the Algonquin is on a level with the middle of the
Atalanta!

--Three more lengths' rowing and the college crew will pass the girls!

--"Hurrah for the Quins!" The Algonquin ranges up alongside of the
Atalanta!

"Through with her!" shouts the captain of the Algonquin.

"Now, girls!" shrieks the captain of the Atalanta.

They near the line, every rower straining desperately, almost madly.

--Crack goes the oar of the Atalanta's captain, and up flash its
splintered fragments, as the stem of her boat springs past the line,
eighteen inches at least ahead of the Algonquin.

Hooraw for the Lantas! Hooraw for the Girls! Hooraw for the Institoot!
shout a hundred voices.

"Hurrah for woman's rights and female suffrage!" pipes the small voice
of The Terror, and there is loud laughing and cheering all round.

She had not studied her classical dictionary and her mythology for
nothing. "I have paid off one old score," she said. "Set down my damask
roses against the golden apples of Hippomenes!"

It was that one second lost in snatching up the bouquet which gave the
race to the Atalantas.

III. THE WHITE CANOE.

While the two boats were racing, other boats with lookers-on in them
were rowing or sailing in the neighborhood of the race-course. The scene
on the water was a gay one, for the young people in the boats were, many
of them, acquainted with each other. There was a good deal of lively
talk until the race became too exciting. Then many fell silent, until,
as the boats neared the line, and still more as t