The Eights: Brilliant blue sky above, glinting blue water beneath. Down across Christchurch meadow troops a butterfly crowd, flaunting brilliant parasols and chattering gaily to the "flannelled fools" who form the escort. Despite the laughter it is a solemn occasion, for the college boat that is head of the river may be going to be bumped this afternoon, and, if so, the bump will surely take place in front of the barges. The only question is, before which barge will it happen? When the exciting moment draws near, chatter ceases, a tense stillness holds the crowd in thrall; the relentless pursuers creep on steadily, narrowing the gap between themselves and the first boat, and finally bump it exactly opposite its own barge! A moment's pause. The completeness of the triumph is too impressive to be grasped at once; then—pandemonium! Pistol-shots, rattles, hoots, yells, shrieks of joy, wildly waving parasols, and groans.
The Torpids: A raw cold February day; a leaden sky heavy with snow; dimly seen figures scudding over the frozen meadows of Iffley; the river itself is almost frost-bound, and the men waiting in the boats for the starting gun look blue and pinched. They must find these last ten seconds hard to endure. Nine, eight, seven, six—ugh! will it never go? At last! And, as the signal sounds, the oars strike the water with a splash, and the boats shoot off and begin the long tussle against a head wind and that strong stream which always makes the Torpids a harder matter than the Eights rowed in summer water. It is too late to follow them, so heigh-ho for the King's Arms Hotel at Sandford, and a cup of the good hot tea that the landlady knows so well how to make!
The channel running past the bathing places is equally unsuited for navigation, and is moreover guarded by two mills, but it may be negotiated with the aforesaid element of good luck. Hinksey Stream flows into this backwater, and there are several places, after shoals have been avoided or surmounted, where it is extremely pleasant to while away an idle hour. By means of the Long Bridges and the lock at Iffley it is possible to get across the river from side to side diagonally. Passing on down stream we soon come to Iffley. In the meantime we can see many of the pinnacles and spires and domes for which Oxford is famous, and marvellous is the way in which they appear to swing round as we change our position. The part of new Oxford which lines the Iffley road behind the meadows is not attractive, but when we come in sight of Iffley itself we may well exclaim that it would be hard to find a sweeter spot. There are stone walls, thatched cottages and farmyards, hay and orchards, elms, alders, and silver-stemmed birches; in consequence a quiet, rural atmosphere broods over all. The cows feed down to the edge of the river, and swallows dart about overhead, while perhaps a man paddling a canoe shoots up and away again, his white flannels and the strength and grace of his movement irresistibly recalling a swan. The mill, half stone, half wooden cased, is very ancient; the massive foundations have become like rock from their long immersion in the running water. There is a great quiet pool behind the lock island, and here and there a glimpse may be caught of the square tower of the famous church, which is not far off, but is well hidden by trees.
Iffley Church takes rank with Stewkley as the most beautiful example of a Norman church remaining to us out of London. It is, like so many Norman churches, very small and very solid. And it must yield to Stewkley in the fact that its architecture is not pure. Yet its massive central tower and its fine windows place it very high indeed. Its date is not certainly known, but is supposed to be between 1160 and 1170. "The interior seems at first sight curious. There are, in fact, two chancels, one behind the other. The further one is early English work, and is much lighter in style than the rest of the building, and the east end is disappointing. This may have been added to lengthen the church. In the bay next to it, where the choir now sit, there are fourteenth century windows inserted under Norman arches, showing that the walls were of the earlier date. These windows were added by John de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk, in the latter half of the sixteenth century. There is a groined roof, and the piers are beautifully decorated. The arches supporting the tower are richly moulded, almost incongruously so in regard to the massive type of the masonry, which points to early Norman. The Perpendicular windows inserted in the north and south walls are good. It is only at the extreme west end that the Norman windows remain untouched. The font is of black marble, and is very curious. The triple west-end window, a splendid specimen, is best seen from the churchyard. Its moulding is very rich, and this alone would be sufficient to make Iffley rank high among ancient churches. Below it is a circular window inserted about 1858 on the supposed plan of a former one of which traces were found. The impossibility of approaching the style of the old work in modern times was never more strikingly shown. Below is a fine doorway with beak-head and billet moulding, worthy to be classed with the triple window. A very ancient yew stands on the south side of the church, and near it is the slender shaft of an old cross. The rectory house, dating from Tudor times, is a fine addition to the picturesque group."—Guide to the Thames.
Between Iffley and Sandford the famous Oxford meadows are seen at their best. In the summer they are gemmed with countless flowers, so that they rival the celebrated Swiss pastures. Prominent among these is the fritillary:
I know what white, what purple fritillaries
The grassy harvest of the river-fields,
Above by Ensham, down by Sandford yields,
And what sedged brooks are Thames's tributaries.
—M. Arnold.