While the evening shadows made whoopee on the cloudcapped heights of the Orongorongos, "Smad" recently cornered Men's Vice-President Wild in the venerable shades of our stately student pile (the Gym.) Later, our worthy President, Mr. R. C. Bradshaw, was bearded in his den and pestered for a presidential message to Tournament representatives, delegates, barrackers, and others.

Mr. Bradshaw.

"We know you're busy, Mr. Bradshaw," said "Smad" looking sympathetically at the pile of correspondence, money and licutenants littered about the Executive Room, "but we feel that we cannot go to press without a bit of dope on the Great Event."

"Well," said the President in traditional style, we wish all our visitors a hearty welcome to our fair city—"

—"and a crushing defeat," interjected "Smad."

"We seem to have won a reputation for being good losers," continued Mr. Bradshaw, but this year we hope to offer our rivals such competition as they've never had in their naturals. There's definitely no longer any room in our arsenal for the Wooden Spoon."

Mr. Bradshaw wishes all visitors the freedom of the city (we hope Auckland won't miss the wind!) and assures them that on Easter Sundays' motor-drive they willbe shown sights they never knew existed outside Auckland, Christchurch and Dunedin.

"What about our buildings?" murmured "Smad" apologetically.

"Yes, we wish to excuse our buildings, or rather, lack of them," echoed the President, "But what we lack in buildings we make up in goodwill. We want all our visitors to feel thoroughly at home, and we're going to show them how we can entertain." Mr. Bradshaw assures representatives that we will have a new Students' Association Building in about ten tournament cycles hence. After this ambitious pronouncement, "Smad" backed out of the presence.

Mr. Wild.

Mr. Wild was in a hurry, but nevertheless spoke fluently for 25 minutes on something other than Japan.

"Right from the moment I crossed the gangway of the Makura," he said, "I have been involved in the hectic rush of 1936 Tournament." (Which is going to be a wow!) Mr. Wild ostentatiously rustled a sheaf of papers.

"However everything is now well in hand."

"What sort of a response have you had to advertisements for co-operation?" asked "Smad."

We have here to pass into oratio obliua for we cannot express verbatim Dicks' verbal condemnation of those procrastinators whose modestly compels them to postpone their offers of help till the last minute.

When asked about entertainment, at first, Mr. Wild could say nothing but "Blacker, Ball and Bumper" which to the initiated means that thanks to Ted Blacker the Ball's going to be a howling financial failure. Then "Smad" perceived that the gleam had faded out of Mr. Wild' eye. No, he was not thinking of those geishas back in the Orient. "We had arranged to visit a brewery," he said, "but that's off."

Our worthy Vice then rambled on about the business of the delegates, about gold medals for record breakers, about pocket badges for. . . But none of you chaps want to hear about that.