A few words as to our scheme of boat-races at Cambridge. Of the Lent races I have spoken. They are rowed at the end of February in heavy ships, i.e. fixed-seat ships built with five streaks from a keel. Thirty-one boats take part in them. Every college must be represented by at least one boat, though beyond that there is no restriction as to the number of boats from any particular college club. No man who has taken part in the previous May races is permitted to row. In fact, they are a preparatory school for the development of eight-oared rowing. Next term is given up to the May races, which are rowed in light ships, i.e. keel-less ships with sliding seats. No club can have more than three or less than one crew in these races. In this term the pair-oared races are also rowed, generally before the Eights. The Fours, both in light ships and, for the less ambitious colleges whose Eights may be in the second division, in clinker-built boats, take place at the end of October, and are followed by the Colquhoun, or University Sculls, and next by the University Trial Eights, two picked crews selected by the President of the University Boat Club from the likely men of every college club. The trial race always takes place near Ely, over the three miles of what is called the Adelaide course. Besides all these races, each college has its own races, confined to members of the college. But of course the glory of college racing culminates in the May term. Who shall calculate all the forethought, energy, self-denial, and patriotic labour, all the carefully organized skill and patient training which are devoted to the May races ; for so they are still called, though they never take place now before June ? Every man who rows in his college crew feels that to him personally the traditions and the honour of his college are committed. The meadow at Ditton is alive with a brilliant throng of visitors, the banks swarm with panting enthusiasts armed with every kind of noisy instrument, and all intent to spur the energies of their several Eights. One
by one the crews, clothed in their blazers, with their straw hats on their heads, paddle down to the start, pausing at Ditton to exchange greetings with the visitors. In the Post Reach they turn, disembark for a few moments, and wander nervously up and down the bank. At last the first gun is fired, the oarsmen strip for the race. Their clothes are collected and borne along in front by perspiring boatmen, so as to be ready for them at the end of the race. The men step gingerly into their frail craft and await the next gun. Bang ! Another minute. The boat is pushed out, the coxwain holding his chain ; the crew come forward, every nerve strained for the start ; the cry of the careful timekeepers is heard along the reach, the gun fires, and a universal roar proclaims the start of the sixteen crews. For four " nights " the conflict rages, bringing triumph and victory to some, and pain and defeat to others ; and at the end comes the glorious bump-supper, with its toasts, its songs, and its harmless, noisy rejoicings, on which the dons look with an indul gent eye, and in which they even sometimes take part for the honour of the college.
Happy are those who still dwell in Cambridge courts and follow the delightful labour of the oar! For the rest of us there can only be memories of the time when we toiled round the never-ending Grassy corner, spurted in the Plough, heard dimly the deafening cheers of the crowd at Ditton, and finally made our bump amid the confused roar of hundreds of voices, the booming of fog-horns the screech of rattles, and the ringing of bells. What joy in after-life can equal the intoxication of the moment when we stepped out upon the bank to receive the congratulations of our friends, whilst the unfurled flag proclaimed our victory to the world ? To such scenes the mind travels back through the vista of years with fond regret. For most of us our racing days are over, but we can still glory in the triumphs of our college or our University, and swear by the noblest of open-air sports.