wo institutions. Among them were a few who were
disposed to add to their interest in the trial by small wagers. The bets
were rather in favor of the "Quins," as the University boat was commonly
called, except where the natural sympathy of the young ladies or the
gallantry of some of the young men led them to risk their gloves or
cigars, or whatever it might be, on the Atalantas. The elements of
judgment were these: average weight of the Algonquins one hundred and
sixty-five pounds; average weight of the Atalantas, one hundred and
forty-eight pounds; skill in practice about equal; advantage of the
narrow boat equal to three lengths; whole distance allowed the Atalantas
eight lengths,--a long stretch to be made up in a mile and a half. And
so both crews began practising for the grand trial.

II. THE BOAT-RACE.

The 10th of June was a delicious summer day, rather warm, but still and
bright. The water was smooth, and the crews were in the best possible
condition. All was expectation, and for some time nothing but
expectation. No boat-race or regatta ever began at the time appointed
for the start. Somebody breaks an oar, or somebody fails to appear in
season, or something is the matter with a seat or an outrigger; or if
there is no such excuse, the crew of one or both or all the boats to
take part in the race must paddle about to get themselves ready for
work, to the infinite weariness of all the spectators, who naturally ask
why all this getting ready is not attended to beforehand. The Algonquins
wore plain gray flannel suits and white caps. The young ladies were all
in dark blue dresses, touched up with a red ribbon here and there, and
wore light straw hats. The little coxswain of the Atalanta was the last
to step on board. As she took her place she carefully deposited at her
feet a white handkerchief wrapped about something or other, perhaps a
sponge, in case the boat should take in water.

At last the Algonquin shot out from the little nook where she lay,
--long, narrow, shining, swift as a pickerel when he darts from the
reedy shore. It was a beautiful sight to see the eight young fellows in
their close-fitting suits, their brown muscular arms bare, bending their
backs for the stroke and recovering, as if they were parts of a single
machine.

"The gals can't stan' it agin them fellers," said the old blacksmith
from the village.

"You wait till the gals get a-goin'," said the carpenter, who had often
worked i