ith
a strong Roman-nosed, vicious-looking, rat-tailed horse in the
shafts, called Satan by Drysdale; the leader had been sent on to
the first turnpike. The things were packed, and Jack, the
bull-dog, hoisted into the interior in a few minutes; Drysdale
produced a long straight horn, which he called his yard of tin
(probably because it was made of brass), and after refreshing
himself with a blast or two, handed it over to Blake, and then
mounted the dog cart, and took the reins. Blake seated himself by
his side; the help who was to accompany them got up behind, and
Jack looked wisely out from his inside place over the back-board.

"Are we all right?" said Drysdale, catching his long tandem whip
into a knowing double thong.

"All right, sir," said the head ostler, touching his cap.

"You'd better have come, my boy," said Drysdale to Tom, as they
trotted off out of the yard; and Tom couldn't help envying them
as he followed, and watched the dog cart lessening rapidly down
the empty street, and heard the notes of the yard of tin, which
Blake managed to make really musical, borne back on the soft
western breeze. It was such a pleasant morning for fishing.

However, it was too late to repent, had he wished it; and so he
got back to chapel, and destroyed the whole effect of the morning
service on Miller's mind, by delivering Blake's message to that
choleric coxswain as soon as chapel was over. Miller vowed for
the twentieth time that Blake should be turned out of the boat,
and went off to the Captain's rooms to torment him, and consult
what was to be done.

The weather continued magnificent--a soft, dull grey March day,
and a steady wind; and the thought of the lucky fishermen, and
visions of creels filled with huge three-pounders, haunted Tom at
lecture, and throughout the day.

At two o'clock he was down at the river. The college eight was to
go down for the first time in the season to the reached below
Nuneham, for a good training pull, and he had notice, to his
great joy, that he was to be tried in the boat. But, great, no
doubt, as was the glory, the price was a heavy one. This was the
first time he had been subjected to the tender mercies of Miller,
the coxswain, or had pulled behind the Captain; and it did not
take long to convince him that it was a very different style of
thing from anything he had as yet been accustomed to in the
freshman's crew. The long steady sweep of the so-called paddle
tried him almost