" The Curate of
Sandford, who pulled number six in the Exeter boat, left Sandford for
Witney: on this he felt he could no longer do his college justice by
water, and his parish by land, nor escape the charge of pluralism,
preaching at Witney and rowing at Oxford. He fluctuated, sighed, kept his
Witney, and laid down his oar. Then Edward was solemnly weighed in his
jersey and flannel trousers, and proving only eleven stone eight, whereas
he had been ungenerously suspected of twelve stone,* was elected to the
vacant oar by acclamation. He was a picture in a boat; and, "Oh!!! well
pulled, six!!" was a hearty ejaculation constantly hurled at him from the
bank by many men of other colleges, and even by the more genial among the
cads, as the Exeter glided at ease down the river, or shot up it in a
race.
*There was at this time a prejudice against weight, which has yielded to
experience
He was now as much talked of in the university as any man of his college,
except one. Singularly enough that one was his townsman; but no friend of
his; he was much Edward's senior in standing, though not in age; and this
is a barrier the junior must not step over--without direct
encouragement--at Oxford.
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