He could not get on in the beginning without being a pupil under an
anomalous creature called a "fireman waterman," who wore an
eminently tall hat, and a perfectly unaccountable uniform, of which
it might be said that if it was less adapted for one thing than
another, that thing was fire. He recollected that this gentleman
had on some former day won a King's prize wherry, and they used to
go about in this accursed wherry, he and a partner, doing all the
hard work, while the fireman drank all the beer. The river was
very much clearer, freer, and cleaner in those days than these; but
he was persuaded that this philosophical old boatman could no more
have dreamt of seeing the spectacle which had taken place on
Saturday (the procession of the boats of the Metropolitan Amateur
Rowing Clubs), or of seeing these clubs matched for skill and
speed, than he (the Chairman) should dare to announce through the
usual authentic channels that he was to be heard of at the bar
below, and that he was perfectly prepared to accommodate Mr. James
Mace if he meant business. Nevertheless, he could recollect that
he had turned out for a spurt a few years ago on the River Thames
with an occasional Secretary, who should be nameless, and some
other Eton boys, and that he could hold his own against them. More
recently still, the last time that he rowed down from Oxford he was
supposed to cover himself with honour, though he must admit that he
found the "locks" so picturesque as to require much examination for
the discovery of their beauty.
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