k-blue silk for the honour of Oxford, and spurted
under the terrace to our starting-place. The only boat entered against
us was the Dolphin, containing three stout gentlemen and a thin one,
members of the B---- Cutter Club, who evidently looked upon pulling as
no joke. Branling gave us a steady stroke, and Cotton of Balliol steered
us admirably; the rest did as well as they could. The old boys had a
very pretty boat--ours was a tub--but we beat them. They gave us a
stern-chase for the first hundred yards, for I cut a crab at starting;
but we had plenty of pluck, and came in winners by a length. Of course
we were the favourites--the "Dolphins" were all but one married--and
hearty were the congratulations with which we were greeted on landing.
Clara Phillips' eyes had a most dangerous light in them, as she shook
hands with our noble captain, who was in a terrible hurry, however, to
get away, and hunting every where for "that d----d Dawson," who had
promised to have Bill Thomas in readiness with "the lush." So I was
compelled to stay with her and give an account of the race, which she
perfectly understood, and be soundly scolded by the prettiest lips in
the world for my awkwardness, which she declared she never could have
forgiven if it had lost the race.

"You will come to the ball, then, Mr Hawthorne?"

"Am I not to dance with you?"

"Yes, if you behave well, and don't tease Mr Sydney Dawson: he is a
great favourite of mine, and took great care of me this morning at
breakfast."

"Well, then, for your sake, Miss Phillips, I will be particularly civil
to him; but I assure you, Dawson is like the fox that took a pride in
being hunted; he considers our persecution of him as the strongest
evidence of his own superiority; and if you seriously undertake to
patronize him he will become positively unbearable."

The regatta over, we retired to make a hurried dinner, and to dress for
the ball. This, with some of our party, was a serious business.
Willingham and Dawson were going in fancy dresses. The former was an
admirable personification of Dick Turpin, standing upwards of six feet,
and broadly built, and becoming his picturesque costume as if it were
his everyday suit, he strutted before Mrs Jenkins's best glass, which
Hanmer charitably gave up for his accommodation, with a pardonable
vanity. Dawson had got a lancer's uniform from his London tailor; but
how to get into it was a puzzle; it was delightful to see his attempts