the
circular groan would ascend, a rumble which should expel a ministry,
unseat a prince. Not very much came of the groaning, I suppose;
certainly the Volunteers liked the Bisley ranges, next year, much
better. But the old windmill, which looked on in its time at thirty full
meetings, still surely misses the week when the dells and the long
stretches of heather rattled from the first gun to sunset with the
crackle of Martinis and match rifles. The windmill watches red-coated
golfers to-day, playing to some of the prettiest greens in the south of
England; but the days for the windmill were when the tents were white
about the heather, and when they sold Stewart's Verniers where to-day a
more leisured generation misses short putts.

CHAPTER XLII

THE SURREY SIDE

Mortlake.--The Boat Race.--A duel.--Putney-by-the-sea.--Punch and
Judy.--Kennington.--Gallows and faggots.--The proper way to
subscribe to a Cricket Club.--Camberwell Beauties.--The Tradescants
and their Dodo.--Mr. Jeffery Saffery.--The old Surrey Side.--The
Tabard.--The Old Road.

The Surrey side begins, perhaps, if it begins anywhere definitely, at
Mortlake, where the Boat-race ends. By Kew and Richmond the Thames runs
for pleasure-boats, gigs and skiffs with shining oars. Below Mortlake
the river hears the forge and the dockyard; torpedo-boats drive out into
the tide; it is different water, London water, under their bows. The
four miles of the Thames of the Boat-race mark the gradual change. On a
rough day the two eights ride through waves which are less like a river
than a sea; and perhaps the rough water has made some of the best
history of the race. When Cambridge sank in 1859 she was waterlogged
early in the race; she could not have won, but the steamers following
the eights prevented her even from passing the winning-post, by swamping
her with their wash. Oxford won, but Cambridge's was an equal honour.
The crew rowed on as the boat went under the water; and the name that
will always belong to that race is that of a future Lord Justice, Mr.
A.L. Smith. Cambridge and Mr. A.L. Smith went on rowing in the water,
knowing that Mr. Smith could not swim. On another rough day, thirty-nine
years later, the race was lost and won by the toss; the Cambridge boat
filled at the start, and Oxford rowed in out of the wind. Other historic
races belong to the curve of the river above Barnes Bridge; three in
particular, in 1886, 1896, and 190