The Sun.
London, England, 1869-08-28 00:00:00

THE CROWD ANI THE STEAMBOATS.

Although, by strict letter of the law, the traffic of the
river was to be so far stopped as to force the bulk of the
public to take the road or the rail, the Thames did not by
any means neglect to contribute his quota to the great
Metropolitan gala in his territory. From noon to three
o'clock a numerous fleet of small boats, carrying sail or
rowing up with the tide, extended in a continuous—almost
unbroken—line all the way up from London Bridge to
Putney. A pleasure gig or- two, with parasol, lace
shawl, and the owner thereof, would occasionally
relieve the less ornamental part of the fleet ;
and at one part of the course a water veloci
pede, propelled by a modern mariner, formed
an object of what was passing attention in the
truest use of the adjective, seeing that most other craft
left the veloce far behind. That mighty crush, race, and
turmoil of steamers which has so long been at once a
source of excitement and of dread at, great boat-races
was entirely avoided through the regulations of the
Thames Conservancy forbidding that kind of traffic. A
single " Citizen," for the conveyance of the umpire, and
the Sunflower for the accommodation of the representa-
tives of the American and Metropolitan press, were the
only vessels permitted to accompany the race; and from
three o'clock all the regular traffic under Putney
Bridge was stopped. - A short distance above the aque-
duct, heavy barges or keels were moored in line right
across the river,, and so effectually bound with chains that
all passage beyond their range of defence was impossible.
The steamers were thus, after the appointed time, ex-
cluded. On the left shore of the river the small boats, to
the number of a few score only, were huddled together,
as though afraid to venture out upon the tempting expanse
of smooth water, which, in all its length and breadth and
full volume of tide, lay invitingly before them. From
Putney to Craven Point, and as far beyond that as the eye
could reach, the river was clear of craft— a fact probably un-
precedented in the recollection of that proverbially long-
lived bird, the oldest swan on the river. Removed from off
the surface of the water, the British public took a noble,
justifiable, and good-humnnred revenge by spreading
themselves over the whole available space of the fund.
The people by thousands lined the tow-path thickly all
the way up as far as could be seen, the crowding being
most dense in front of the London Boat House, where the
crews were expected to embark. On the river itself the
bright crimson pennon of the Thames Conservancy
and the professional blue of the police boats were
all-pervading. The stalwart members of this floating

foree were everywhere in action, pulling about
from place to place in all the consciousness of
duty, and in full and free possession of the luxury
denied to their brethren ashore, of going on the beat in
their shirt-sleeves. The Fulham side, with its massive
and rich foliage, drooping willows, fresh green sward, and
charming villas, was thickly studded with people, even
the reverend precincts of tie Bishop's lawn being for the
nonce invaded by spectators of the international race for
honour and renown. The iron aqueduct in the back-
ground was too good a spot for a bird's-eye view to be
entirely tenantless ; the old wooden bridge beyond, with
its ceaseless stream of carriages, horsemen, and pedes-
trians, had also many less temporary occupants. All these
points of sight-seeing were not enough. One adventurous
party, prohibited the water, had, it seems, determined to
try the air, and take, not what is figuratively called a
bird's-eye view, but an actual bird's view, by floating
aloft in a balloon. The Captive lay crippled in her cell,
but in the far distance, like a speck against the sky, there
was evidently a rover aloft, who, favoured by the
south-easterly wind astir, bid fair to reach the
scene of action in time to test the reconnoitring
powers of his aerial machine. In the absence
of the ordinary causes of bustle, the crowd was tolerably
quiet, the great bulk remaining fixedly on the tow-path
awaiting with anxious interest the commencement of
actual operations. Over all this animated scene the sun,
beaming with a degree of power seldom experienced in
these climes, cast a gilding, brightening the long lines of
the people here, throwing them into the deep and grateful
shade of the well-clad trees there, glaring with fierce heat
on the decks of the steamers, and glittering in dazzling
brightness on the crystal surface of the water.