The Debating Society on Thursday was in a sort of decline, very sad to see. Either the new arrangement of the notice boards has a lot to answer for or the same old enthusiasm isn't stirring. At all events the gym., which should have been bursting with a wild crush of students whose opinions varied from red to red, white and blue, was inhabited principally by a large dog, three freshers, and a bunch of old hands whom we have an idea had been enticed along by the chairman. This suspicion was strengthened when we found out something very interesting—namely, that when those same old hands, in the shape of Messrs. Simpson, Macaskill and so forth, liven up the evening by making Jokes and being bright, it's by request. The chairman murmurs quietly to them beforehand that the meeting needs helping along a bit, and please, will they do their stuff—and be good chaps and see that all the reports get taken as read. Which they do—and In future, as you listen to that remarkable flood of wit and puns, you can sit back and reflect upon the extraordinary manifestations of the power Duty In student life.