We Eat and Drink

The Gymnasium groaned contentedly beneath the glamorous burden. When had it seen such times before?

And still they came! "Shiver my timbers and bust my sides," it thought, "how many more?"

At last, emulating the squad-drill of well-trained sardines, all were settled, and the supper met its customary fate. Intermittently speakers could be seen to rise and address the northern end of the assemblage, and as they relapsed the rafters invariably assisted with a cheering dash of re-echoing.

Toasts timely, hoary and heterodox passed their bibulous way. The plea for "the Building Fund" stirred the precincts to the depths of its joists. Mae West, the Ladies, the Haeremai Club, the Cafeteria, the Graduates, the Exec, Royalty and Professorialty—to everything we lent a partially attentive ear, only occasionally agog, but only occasionally bored.

Disillusioned with the "claret cup," but still more confirmed in the belief that this is one of the best functions of the year, we departed at last, leaving the Old Barn with something new to reflect on in its reminiscences until next year.