The
eight stalwart Caius-men bend to their oars the moment they see the
last gun flash. On they come at a good rate, the Caius-men, who are
first, taking it quite easy, when suddenly there is a shout: 'Trinity!
Trinity! Go it, Trinity!' Trinity is now overhauling Caius at every
stroke; and the partisans of the respective boats fill the air with
their shouts. 'Now, Keys (Caius)!' 'Now, Trinity!' 'Why don't you
pull, Keys?' 'Now you have 'em, Trinity!' 'Keys!' 'Trinity!' 'Now's
your chance, Keys!' 'Pull, Trinity!' 'Pull, Keys!' 'Hurrah, Trinity!
inity! inity!' Not more than half a foot intervenes between the
pursuer and the pursued, still Caius pulls with all his might; for
boats occasionally run a mile almost touching. But there is no more
chance. One tremendous pull from Trinity, and half that distance has
disappeared. Another such stroke, and you are aboard of them. Hurrah!
a bump--a bump! Not so. Caius is on the look-out; and with a skilful
inclination of the rudder, the steersman makes his boat fall off--just
the least bit in the world, but enough--Trinity overlaps, but does not
touch. Another moment, and Trinity is head of the river.
The staple exercise, however, is walking. Between 2 and 4, all the
roads in the neighbourhood of Cambridge are covered with men taking
their constitutionals. Longer walks, of twelve or fifteen miles, are
frequently taken on Sundays.
Pages:
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90