orm of sport. It is this,
that while in a foot race a man can leave off as soon as he finds the
exertion more than the prize is worth, and while in football a man may
recover his breath in the scrimmage or justifiably leave the work for a
moment to the others, in rowing every man knows that, by a single
careless stroke, he may throw the whole boat into a confusion from which
they often cannot recover for many hundred yards. Everyone is expected
in a boat race, and in a University race as much as anywhere, to row his
best and hardest every stroke he takes, and never to slack off at all.
If it is considered desirable to save up for a spurt at the finish, the
"stroke" will do that by putting in a few less strokes to the minute
till the time comes. Every man behind him is bound in honesty to the
rest to shove every stroke through "as if there were no hereafter"; and
when the "hereafter" comes, as it does about Chiswick Eyot, he will
have to rely on the thorough condition he is in to pull him through. It
follows that the whole secret of a good crew is that each man rows hard
because it would not be fair to his neighbours in the boat if he rowed
lightly, not entirely because he wants to win the race. I do not want to
disparage other sports in the least degree; pluck enters into them fully
as much as into rowing. The difference lies in the incentive.

Boat races, of course, vary very much in the amount of excitement they
afford; not differing in this from any other sort of contest. Of the
last five races, that of '91 was the most keenly contested, though the
'90 race runs it very close. Both of them were ding-dong struggles all
the way, now one boat and then the other taking the lead, and neither of
them were really won till the post was passed. Closer finishes have been
known, though hardly beating these in point of excitement during the
race itself. The well-known dead heat of '77 is an instance; on which
occasion legend hath it that the ancient umpire had been regaling
himself hard by, and arrived on the scene as the boats shot by the post,
too flustered to take any very accurate observations. However, as both
crews were pretty confident that they had won, his decision displayed no
small share of that low cunning that used to make a successful umpire.

But all things have an end. The long training is passed, and you are
seated in the boat. The race gets finished, one way or the other, and
you are seated at the festive board