Punch full title: There is a time of year when a strange, weird change comes over the average city clerk. During the bulk of the twelve months he is not a robust creature; he has to be carefully looked after by his mother to preserve his vitality. And no man, seeing him in his office, would take him for an athlete. But, a few weeks before the boat race, he is seen to (after studying a little paragraph in the daily paper) expand his chest to its full proportions, and gaze critically in the glass. He is noticed to carry dumb-bells about him, to wear a suit of strange, rough dotty material, which gives an impression of increased bulk, and to have exchanged his customary creep for a reckless swagger. At this period, too, he delights his mother by pointing out the development of his biceps; he dresses in flannels, and drinks half pints of stout at a sitting. And then the race is rowed. And, a week or two later, if you look in upon that young man, you will find him back in his normal state – a wizened blight; and you'd never guess he had never been an athlete at all.
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