ill remember for his life, but the like of which, will he
ever feel again? The starting-ropes drop from the coxswains' hands, the
oars flash into the water and gleam on the feather, the spray flies from
them, and the boats leap forward.

The crowds on the bank scatter and rush along, each keeping as near as
may be to its own boat. Some of the men on the towing-path, some on the
very edge of, often in, the water; some slightly in advance, as if they
could help to drag their boat forward; some behind, where they can see
the pulling better; but all at full speed, in wild excitement, and
shouting at the top of their voices to those on whom the honour of the
college is laid.

"Well pulled, all!" "Pick her up there, Five!" "You're gaining every
stroke!" "Time in the bows!" "Bravo, St. Ambrose!"

On they rushed by the side of the boats, jostling one another,
stumbling, struggling, and panting along.

For a quarter of a mile along the bank the glorious, maddening
hurly-burly extends, and rolls up the side of the stream.

For the first ten strokes Tom was in too great fear of making a mistake
to feel or hear or see. His whole soul was glued to the back of the man
before him, his one thought to keep time and get his strength into the
stroke. But, as the crew settled down into the well-known long sweep,
what we may call consciousness returned; and, while every muscle in his
body was straining, and his chest heaved, and his heart leaped, every
nerve seemed to be gathering new life, and his senses to wake into
unwonted acuteness. He caught the scent of wild thyme in the air, and
found room in his brain to wonder how it could have got there, as he had
never seen the plant near the river, or smelt it before. Though his eye
never wandered from the back of Diogenes, he seemed to see all things at
once. The boat behind, which seemed to be gaining;--it was all he could
do to prevent himself from quickening on the stroke as he fancied
that;--the eager face of Miller, with his compressed lips, and eyes
fixed so earnestly ahead that Tom could almost feel the glance passing
over his right shoulder; the flying banks and the shouting crowd; see
them with his bodily eyes he could not, but he knew, nevertheless, that
Grey had been upset and nearly rolled down the bank into the water in
the first hundred yards, that Jack was bounding and scrambling and
barking along by the very edge of the stream; above all, he was just as
well aware as if he