ery best medical opinions, they are not very
likely to go wrong. There is a good deal of nonsense talked about the
dangers of this race to health. No man who is not absolutely sound in
wind and limb is allowed to begin training at all, for the obvious
reason that the captain does not want one of his men to fail him at the
last moment. It is about as probable that a man should go tiger shooting
without looking to see if his rifle is loaded, as that the President of
a University Boat Club should select an oarsman who is likely to "crock
up."

It is when the crew leave the home waters that the really enjoyable part
of the training begins. The Cambridge crew generally, and the Oxford men
not infrequently, go straight to Putney, but a far more pleasant plan is
to spend a week or so on the up-river waters before going to the
Metropolitan course. Everyone knows Cookham in its summer dress, with a
plentiful crowd of holiday-makers on the water; but in the very early
spring, before the foliage has begun to appear, and when the
light-hearted champagne bottle still nestles in its straw, it has also a
very great charm of its own. The fresh air, and the change to new
scenes, together with the strong stream caused by winter rains, make the
men feel like young bullocks, and the boat moves with twice the spring
it had before. The jolly lounging life in between whiles, diversified
with songs, saloon-pistols, and the like, the pleasant walk over the
hills on Sunday, and the total freedom from all thoughts and cares,
beyond the beating of a record over the course next day, all go to make
up an Elysian life.

Every now and then the amusement is varied by the rather boisterous
humour of the elements. Some five years ago the state of the tide at
Putney rendered it necessary to do most of the work early in the
morning. It was freezing hard, with occasional showers of snow, and the
coxswain absolutely was able to stand his coat up when he took it off.
It had got drenched, and was frozen stiff! I have several times been in
a boat when we had to land and empty out the water, that had broken over
the bow oars in such quantities as almost to sink us. Occasionally,
boats have quite sunk from the same cause, while the men stuck to their
thwarts, presenting a comic appearance as they rowed away, seated, as it
seemed, in the water.

[Illustration: "A WORK OF GENIUS."]

A great consideration in estimating the happiness of such a time as this
is th