A similar spirit animates the cartoon on the Cambridge and Harvard boat-race in 1906, in which Father Thames, as "The Jolly Waterman," takes pride in both crews, while the accompanying verses on "Light Blue and Crimson" emphasize that _camaraderie_ of rowing which the writer, "R. C. L.," did so much to foster. The races for the America Cup were, in their earlier stages, when Lord Dunraven was the challenger, more productive of friction than cordiality. Sir Thomas Lipton's indefatigable persistence in his efforts to "lift the Cup" from 1901 onward does not pass unacknowledged, but _Punch's_ consolation is not free from irony:-- Bear up, Sir T.; remember Bruce's spider; Build further _Shamrocks_ through the coming-years; Virtue like yours, though long retirement hide her, Ends in the House of Peers. [Sidenote: _Cups, Championships and Olympic Games_] So an element of ridicule is not wanting in the burlesque diaries published in 1903 of "Lipton Day by Day" and "Lipton Minute by Minute," or in the mock-heroic cartoon of Sir Thomas as "The Last of the Vikings and the First of the Tea-kings." Lawn tennis in the middle 'nineties was still a predominantly British pastime. In his account of the Northern Tournament in 1895 not a single American or foreign competitor is named, and _Punch_ bewails the absence of the old heroes, the Renshaws and Lawford, and the defection of Miss Lottie Dod, who had already given up lawn tennis for golf. In 1906 the prowess of Miss May Sutton, the American girl who carried off the Ladies' Championship at Wimbledon, is celebrated in eulogistic "Limericks." But it was still a far cry to the Wimbledon of even seven years later, when French and German, as well as American and Australian players, entered the arena. Uncle Sam had been busy collecting championships in the interval, and in August, 1913, _Punch_ represented him, carrying a model yacht, a tennis racket and a polo stick (he might have added a golf club in view of Mr. Travis's triumph at Sandwich in 1904), saying to a rather rueful-looking John Bull in cricketing costume: "Say, John, what's this game, anyway? Cricket? Well, see here; mail me a copy of the rules, with date of next international championship. I'm just crazy on Cups." The Olympic Games _furore_ left _Punch_ cold. The Duke of Westminster's letter on the "national disaster" of 1912 prompts a satirical cartoon in which John Bull, "prostrate with shame," remarks: "My place in the Council of Europe may be higher than ever, but what's the use of that when the Olympic palm for the kneeling high jump is borne by another?" The "Olympic Catechism," published in the following number, is a bitter but not wholly undeserved criticism of the spirit, organization and results of these contests, and the evasion by their promoters of the difficulty of discriminating between professionals and amateurs. To the question, "How is the Olympic spirit acquired?" _Punch_ supplies the following