des being written in that
vivid and picturesque style which has made my contributions famous
throughout the civilised world.

[Illustration]

There are one or two little matters about which I honestly desire
to have your opinion. You know perfectly well that I was by no means
anxious for the position of aquatic reporter. In vain I pointed out
to you that my experience of the river was entirely limited to an
occasional trip by steamboat from Charing Cross to Gravesend. You
said that was an amply sufficient qualification, and that no aquatic
reporter who respected himself and his readers, had ever so far
degraded himself as to row in a boat and to place his body in any
of the absurd positions which modern oarsmanship demands. Finding
you were inexorable, and knowing your ridiculously hasty temper,
I consented finally to undertake the arduous duties. These
circumstances, however, make it essential that you should give me
advice when I require it. For obvious reasons I don't much like to
ask any of the rowing men here any questions. They are mostly in what
they call hard training, which means, I fancy, a condition of high
irritability. Their strokes may be long, but their tempers are, I
regret to say, painfully short. Besides, to be candid, I don't wish to
show the least trace of ignorance. My position demands that I should
be omniscient, and omniscient, to all outward appearance, I shall
remain.

In the first place what is a "lightship?" As I travelled down to
Henley I read in one of the newspapers that "practice for the Royal
Regatta was now in full swing, and that the river was dotted with
lightships of every description." I remember some years ago passing
a very pleasant half hour on board of a lightship moored in the
neighbourhood of Broadstairs. The rum was excellent. I looked forward
with a lively pleasure to repeating the experience at Henley. As soon
as I arrived, therefore, I put on my yachting cap (white, with a
gold anchor embroidered in front), hired a boat and a small boy, and
directed him to row me immediately to one of the lightships. I spent
at least two hours on the river in company with that boy--a very
impudent little fellow,--but owing no doubt to his stupidity, I
failed to find a single vessel which could be fairly described as a
lightship. Finally the boy said they had all been sunk in yesterday's
great storm, and with that inadequate explanation I was forced to
content myself. But there is a mys