“MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,—I should have been with you yesterday, but was obliged to wait because they had not finished the gold oars which we have won at Putney. We have been as successful here as we were at Henley, and I hope I shall bring home the cup to show you. I shall be home to-morrow, and very glad to get to Donnington again. I don’t feel the least unsettled by these proceedings, and am in an excellent humour for reading.” The two great cups came to Donnington, and remained for the year on your grandfather’s sideboard, who could never quite make up his mind about them; pride at his son’s extraordinary prowess being dashed with fears as to the possible effects on him. George himself, at this time, certainly had no idea that he was at all the worse for it, and maintained in his letters that pulling “is not so severe exercise as boxing or fencing hard for an hour.” “You may satisfy yourselves I shall not overdo it. I have always felt the better for it as yet, but if I were to feel the least inconvenience I should give it up at once.” One effect the seven-oar race had on our generation at Oxford: it made boating really popular, which it had not been till then. I, amongst others, was quite converted to my brother’s opinion, and began to spend all my spare time on the water. Our college entered for the University four-oar races in the following November Term, and, to my intense delight, I was selected for No. 2, my brother pulling stroke.