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.

Election.

A perfectly good presidency was going begging. Would you like to be president of the Debating Society? No? Or you? No? Or Mr. Freeman? Oh! Well. Mr. Hatherley, then? Yes, yes. Mr. Hatherley. No, we really can't hear him protesting—is that unanimous? Good What, he's resigned already? Impossible! Must have it in writing. Let the incoming committee deal with It and congratulations. Mark, old thing.

After which more shy creatures were railroaded into office, and then Mr. Aimers, beaming round, hooked members of the audience up to his table, where they chose a small white slip of paper and retired to the kitchen for two minutes to eat biscuits and allow thoughts on Varsity Romances. Gate Crashing, or a New Zealand-born Governor-General to well up from the subconscious.

Mr. Simpson opened proceedings with his usual charm, and gave some excellent advice as to joining the S.C.M. and the Tramping Club with a view to furthering one's matrimonial career, after which Mr. Lowin lamentably went most serious about Radio Propaganda. It is a regrettable fact that earnestness folds rather heavily into the meringue of impromptu speeches, and Miss Sutch's gentle dissecting of Mr. Brook's character was more to the general taste. Though Miss Sutch was rather reticent. Then Mr. Morrison gave a few delightful suggestions as to the possible meaning of the letters O.T.C. at V.U.C.—Omit Training College, and Organise the Cafeteria, for example.

Who?

Despite the disinclination of the audience to think if It could help it, Mr. Vogt's soft voice broke through with a pacifist speech about China, in which ho claimed Chiang Kal Shek and the militarists were not supported by the people. At this the old debating dragon reared its head, and Mr. O'Keefe leapt forth in opposition, claiming that "China had got so many kicks in the backside from various angles" that she was heart-sick of foreign intervention. What promised to develop into a fine argument was stopped by the chairman's discovery that it was getting late, so the subject was put away in mothballs for airing at a later debate, and the audience, bouncing up fought for its pennyworth of biscuits and tea.

—K.R.