site the Cherwell. The leading boat
was just passing the winning-post, off the university barge, and
the band struck up the "Conquering Hero," with a crash. And while
a mighty sound of shouts, murmurs, and music went up into the
evening sky, Miller shook the tiller-ropes again, the Captain
shouted, "Now then, pick her up," and the St. Ambrose boat shot
up between the swarming banks at racing pace to her
landing-place, the lion of the evening.

Dear readers of the gentler sex! you, I know, will pardon the
enthusiasm which stirs our pulses, now in sober middle age, as we
call up again the memories of this the most exciting sport of our
boy hood (for we were but boys then, after all). You will pardon,
though I fear hopelessly unable to understand, the above sketch;
your sons and brothers will tell you it could not have been less
technical.

For you, male readers, who have never handled an oar,--what shall
I say to you? You at least, I hope, in some way--in other
contests of one kind or another--have felt as we felt, and have
striven as we strove. You _ought_ to understand and sympathize
with us in all our boating memories. Oh, how fresh and sweet they
are! Above all, that one of the gay little Henley town, the
carriage-crowded bridge, the noble river reach, the giant
poplars, which mark the critical point of the course--the roaring
column of "undergrads," light blue and dark purple, Cantab and
Oxonian, alike and yet how different,--hurling along together,
and hiding the towing-path--the clang of Henley church-bells--the
cheering, the waving of embroidered handkerchiefs, and glancing
of bright eyes, the ill-concealed pride of fathers, open delight
and exultation of mothers and sisters--the levee in the town-hall
when the race was rowed, the great cup full of champagne (inn
champagne, but we were not critical)--the chops, the steaks, the
bitter beer--but we run into anti-climax--remember, we were boys
then, and bear with us if you cannot sympathize.

And you, old companions, [Greek text] thranitai, benchers, (of
the gallant eight-oar), now seldom met, but never-forgotten,
lairds, squires, soldiers, merchants, lawyers, grave J.P.'s,
graver clergymen, gravest bishops (for of two bishops at least
does our brotherhood boast), I turn for a moment, from my task,
to reach to you the right hand of fellowship from these pages,
and empty the solemn pewter--trophy of hard-won victory--to your
health and happiness.

Surely none