Pooh Bear at Taj

Sirs,—When, a short while ago. a group of youths and common scunge erected from the student body an edifice known to some as the "Pooh Club." I raised, in the privacy of my boudoir, an eyebrow.

But now, after the latest series of actions of the aforesaid throng I feel compelled to go to the length of raising the other in the public forum of this journal, in the hope that the multitudes will with one Great Clang join me in a communal upthrust of this versatile instrument.

For, sirs, forsooth, the Bear as known by me and others of similar inlook is a bear of innocence and happiness, of; simple things—flowers and friends, honey for tea and a river to dream at.

But alas, Pooh has been dragged, bump bump by his hind feet, up to the Taj Mahal—far far from the Big Forest—where he is used as an unwilling but unresisting (for Pooh resists not, really, he just wonders and hums and hopes things improve) mascot for a political rally.

This, sirs, is not the true Pooh we know, the Pooh whose moods so oft we shared.

I call, therefore, upon those few students who deep within themselves possess the true Pooh to declare the Pooh Club inimical to all that is Pooh, and to suggest that this Club, if it really must, if it can think of nought else, to (for sonority's sake) be yclept "The Followers of Rabbit."

Meanwhile, sir. I call to gather at my own oak all those whose ears, like mine, stream in the wind, who sit, like me. on gates beating time with sticks and doing the tiddley-poms and who. like me, while being a little worried about the jump propensities of paper Tiggers in trees nevertheless can occasionally cry

"look at me . ."

I call them into the Club of Piglet. The Club of Piglet will never meet and never become officered, its members will be unknown to each other except by the occasional glimpse of the eye, or gleam soon gone proclaiming "I too."

Anyone who knows within himself that somewhere a bear, and a piglet, and then friends walk hand in hand through the Big Forest is ipso facto, a member And anyone who cries "Pooh is in!" is, ipso factor, not.

John Pettigrew

Sirs,—Taj Mahal Capping Stunt. So much for town and gown relations phhhht!