"Soup," said the farmer, "and fish will be worn. Gentlemen with tails will also be admitted."

We raised a well-bred eyebrow. "Indeed? We had thought of wearing tramping gear. It seemed to us dress clothes would embarrass agricultural students. In the country, you know——"

The swineherd (B.Agr.Sc.) emitted a wisp of cigarette smoke through a refined nostril, and gave us a polite stare. We muttered apologies and slid towards the post office, to wire for our cuirasse and greaves.

* * *

We had pictured rural mirth, pints or ale, folk-dances and tumbling in the hay. Instead we found polished wit, diffused lights, balloons, wattle, greenery, and—Carrad! The music was supplied, not by a bewhiskered professor of hen-husbandry with an accordion, but Tut Coltman and his orchestra! And if you wanted beer, you had to smuggle it past a platoon of commissionaires, and drink it from laboratory beakers.

There was spacious and snug accommodation for sitting out, in rooms lit with soft coloured lights, and decorated with streamers and vegetable life. The streamers in one room were red, white and blue, and in another green and gold, which we thought subtle but mistaken.

V.U.C.'s Mr. Carrad entertained us with Extrav. songs and "Josephine," after which the orchestra, refreshed, played its brightest numbers, and while streamers, balloons, paper roses and hats descended from a balcony above, all the College hakas went on with a bang and a "kss-aue!"

The committee who managed the hilarious evening comprised Messrs. P. L. Pierce, T. R. McGrath. L. R. Wallace, and J. A. Blythe. If their work is a sample of agricultural hospitality. Floreat Agriculture!

Other Amusements.

The civic reception was a miserable affair. All civic receptions are miserable affairs.—H.W.G.

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