Prince was never absent from the Boat Race. Year after year, as the day came round, he was to be found stationed by Jack’s side on the Hammersmith Bridge, not half so much incommoded, on account of the pressure—which, indeed, he could keep off by the use of natural weapons—as he had been startled by the wide world of waters, on the edge of which he had stood, with his tail uncertain whether to droop or to curl, at Brighton. I question whether any dog belonging to the two universities took a greater interest in the race, even though he had been rowed for hours by his attentive master on the Isis or the Cam, than did Prince, in all impartiality; for, though he had a rag of ribbon tied duly round his neck by Jack, Prince at least had no bet either on the light or the dark blue. No more had he any, save the simplest friendly interest, in the winner of the Derby, when he accompanied Jack in an overflowing costermonger’s cart to Epsom Downs. His temper was sorely tried on the way, not merely by the traffic and the clouds of dust, but by the flour warfare, which powdered him white like a miller’s dog. As Prince could not wear a veil, his small eyes were filled till he could hardly blink at the flying hedges, or, after his arrival, at the grand stand, the starting-point, the negro serenaders, and the gipsy fortune-tellers. On the whole, Prince had a tolerably happy youth, for a dog of his condition, under Jack’s auspices. It might not have been so improving as one could wish, but he learnt some proficiency in shifting for himself, and being philosophical when nothing better offered—a valuable lesson for more than dogs. Everything comes to an end, and few things sooner, alas! than the hand-to-mouth drifting with the tide of careless, improvident working people. There came a time, at no distant date in Jack’s and Prince’s household, in which there were no longer treats and dainties going. Bacon, buttered toast, and saveloys vanished from the board. Meals became intermittent. Bit after bit of furniture, and every scrap of clothing that could be spared, were put in pawn at one of the shops with the three golden balls above the doorway. The mother of the family was laid down with typhus, and removed to the nearest hospital. Young Gussy and Fred shared the same fate.