Fortunately he did not adhere to his original intention of resigning the captaincy, and ultimately his boat attained the proud position of head of the river. Edward Hoare’s success in rowing did not make him idle, however: nothing could do that; into whatever he undertook he threw his whole heart and soul, and the very next letter, a few weeks later, May 4th, 1832, begins thus:— “Here I am a scholar of Trinity safe and sound, as the master calls it ‘discipulus juratus et admissus,’ and not a little pleased am I at the thought. But what pleases me most of all is that, so far from being last of all, as our list declares, I have come in very high on the list. I do not know exactly where I am, but, as you wish for all the reports, I tell you one which I don’t quite believe, which is that I was the second in both years. I beat all the third year, and all my own except the great lion Stevenson, and I got within a respectable distance of him, and Peacock says I have gained upon him since the last examination, whereas I never expected to get within miles of him. In fact I am altogether happier than I can express, and really think that I never spent so joyful a night and day in all my life.” Referring to this success his father writes again:— “HAMPSTEAD, _May_ 8_th_, 1832. “MY DEAR EDWARD,—Of advice and congratulations you will partake abundantly without an addition from me, but your mother wishes me to write, what I have no doubt Sam has already written. What may be the best course for you to pursue I have not made up my mind, but as you are at Cambridge it is as well to remind you that a man may be happy without mathematics, and that the glory of being Senior Wrangler (supposing the possibility of such an event) may be purchased at too high a price. I attribute the greatest proportion of your late honours to solid understanding and reading, some part to good luck or accident. Had you not then better see the result of the class examination before you take the plunge? With the blessing of God you will be rooted more deeply than ever now in all our hearts, and, what is far beyond extending growth here, you attain that eminence which is quite out of the sound of wrangling. “I am most affectionately yours, “S. HOARE.” A few days later he receives the news of the sudden death of a relative, Mr. Powell, {24} and various letters describe the effect that this event had upon him. His sympathy was warmly expressed for all the mourners; and then, as was natural to a thoughtful mind, the remembrance of the shortness of life made itself felt. Strong and athletic as he was, he too might be cut off suddenly: was he ready for the call?