and being characteristic of this solid nation, they thus ossified them."

I forgave Jimmie a good deal for that joke.

At the pier at Henley a man met us with a little boat and rowed us up
the river, past dozens of house-boats moored along the bank.

The river had been boomed off for the races, which were to begin the
next day, with little openings here and there for small boats to cross
and recross between races. Private house-boat flags, Union Jacks,
bunting, and plants made all the house-boats gay, except ours, which
looked bare and forlorn and guiltless of decoration of any sort. It was
fortunately situated within plain view of where the races would finish,
and by using glasses we could see the start.

Several crews were out practising. One shell which flashed past us held
a crew in orange and black sweaters. We had previously noticed that
there was no American flag on any of the house-boats.

Orange and black! We nearly stood up in our excitement.

"What's your college?" yelled Jimmie, hoping they were Americans.

"Princeton!" they yelled back.

With that Jimmie ripped open a long pole he was carrying, and the stars
and stripes floated out over our shell. The Princeton crew shipped their
oars, snatched off their caps, and responded by giving their college
yell, ending with "Old Glo-ree! Old Glo-ree!! Old Glo-ree!!!" yelled
three times with all the strength of their deep lungs.