When practising over a course for a speed race, the services of a boatman well acquainted with the currents in the river should be secured, and every possible opportunity taken of learning the spots where the water is slack, as also the speediest route from point to point ; for it is not always the straightaway course which is the best in the long run. In distance races, such as the championship over the Thames course from Kew to Putney Bridge, the services of a pilot are allowed on the day of the race, but in shorter races this assistance is not permitted. Frequent practice in starting from boats is desirable, and the proper method of entering a boat from the water should be mastered. When bathing from a boat the rudder should be removed and the swimmers should enter and leave the boat at the stern.
Winter bathing is more generally practised in the sea than in fresh water. There are, however, various clubs that carry out a winter programme, and even at such cold periods of the year as Christmas and New Year's Day many votaries of the art are to be found engaging in open-water competitions. At Glasgow a race is held in the River Clyde on New Year's Day, and in Hyde Park the Serpentine Club, ever since the year 1864, has promoted a Christmas morning handicap. On several occasions the race has had to be postponed from week to week owing to the lake being covered with ice, but the indomitable spirits who enter usually mitigate their anxiety by a dip into the icy water before retiring from the scene. A race in icy water on winter mornings is a choice bit of sport—for the on-lookers at any rate. Even if the Serpentine race cannot be held, there are always enthusiasts ready with convenient hatchet or implement to make a hole for the bathers to have their plunge. For years an eccentric of a harmless nature used to provide supplementary fun for the early morning loungers. His dip was a regular performance, as well as his after run on the shore. To see the old man go tenderly down the bank in a pair of straw shoes, take the gear off, place them carefully at the edge of the lake, and then plunge in was a sight never to be forgotten. But his after performance was the best ; out he would come, don his shoes, and go for a training spin along the bank. His average time for a hundred yards run could possibly be beaten, but his finishing feat no other man living could equal. With a leap forward he would stand on his hands and hoist his legs, shoes and all, into mid-air. It might have been for the purpose of fetching the blood to his head, or some scientific experiment known only to himself, but he never explained.
There are not many lady swimmers who bathe in open fresh water, privacy being somewhat difficult to obtain, but one of the famous among them is Mrs. Cecile Samuda, who bathes all through the summer in a large deep lake in the gardens at her residence, Shipton Court, Oxon. The water space is one hundred and seventy-five yards long and fifty wide, and the water so deep that it is impossible to stand anywhere in it. A header board is fitted at one end, seven feet above ti e surface. Mrs. Samuda takes a remarkable interest in the pastime. At the conclusion of each seascn at home her bathing party finishes up with a series of competitions lasting over a week. The hostess acts as judge, and allows each com
petitor three fair trials, her brother undertaking the duties of starter. Some of the competitions would be quite outside the ability of many of our best speed swimmers. • Mrs. Samuda is equally fond of sea-bathing, and on two occasions has been successful in saving life. One of those she rescued was a tall powerful man who had been seized with cramp, but having confidence in her powers did not struggle ; the other was a lady, who, although able to swim became nervous, and clung frantically to the neck of her rescuer.
Mrs. Samuda's eldest sister was also a magnificent swimmer, and on one occasion, when she was sixteen years of age, swam ashore a quarter of a mile completely dressed, not only wearing all the ordinary under garments of a lady, including corsets, but also attired in a heavy fishwife serge dress, boots, hats, and gloves, carrying in one hand a huge scarlet Turkey twill umbrella opened, and in the other a large bouquet of somewhat gaudy flowers, presented to her for the occasion. When staying at Cowes the party would go to sea in small boats, completely dressed, and after sundry races, duck hunts, &c., would upset their boats and swim ashore some two or three hundred yards.
The mere mention of the sea sends a thrill of delight through the hearts of all true swimmers, for nothing is more glorious or delightful to them than a dip in the ocean. Bath swimming fades into mere insignificance in comparison with the joy of a plunge into the open sea. It is so manifestly invigorating that those who cannot or do not indulge in the pastime are to be pitied. The ladies seem especially to delight in sea-bath ing, possibly because their opportunities of swimming in baths are limited. To the genuine swimmer the ordinary bathing machine is a nuisance. He likes to plunge into deep water at once, and revels in the sea when it is at all rough. But this pleasure is of course denied to those who are not fairly good swimmers, for the tide or currents may quickly land them into danger from which it may be difficult to escape. No matter how expert a swimmer may be, he should always be accompanied by a boat when out some distance from shore ; indeed, to disregard this precaution is simply to court fatalities. When once out from shore and in deep water, with the waves choppy or rolling in one after the other in quick succession, the accomplished swimmer experiences the keenest enjoyment. The sensation produced by the feeling of power and security in the midst of the mighty tumbling mass of water is altogether delightful, and those who have tried it can more fully appre ciate the feeling which prompted Lord Byron to pen his famous lines in 'Childe Harold' : And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wanton'd with thy breakers—they to me Were a delight ; and if the freshening sea Made them a terror—'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane—as I do here.