A New York Tribune correspondent at New London thus speaks of the place : "This quiet, staid and eminently respectable old town utterly refuses to allow its pulse to be hastened a single beat by the agitations of college rivalries. The ancient mariners who haunt the wharves vary their brilliant flashes of expectoration with languid converse about the oarsmen, always ending with the contemptuous query, "What could them college chaps do in a whaleboat for a ten-mile pull in the teeth of a gale o' wind?" A few shop-keepers with unwonted enterprise have hung out the blue and white; fresh store of provisions is being laid in for thirsty souls, and hotel keepers look cheerfully forward to regatta week. But the majority of the people refuse to "enthuse" in the least over the young oarsmen, and it must be acknowledged that college boating men are no longer the popular heroes that they were in the palmy days of the great regattas at Saratoga. Any contest that occurs every year soon assumes the character of an old story for the rapid, irrepressible American, always thirsting for something new. Now that the novelty of college boating has worn off, the factitious excitement disappears, but there is left a solid residuum of enduring interest, which, perhaps, is worth as much in the way of encouraging the sports as the exaggeration and eclat of former days."