Entrance of the Little Pawns

Hundreds of freshers, big ones and little ones, male ones and female ones, poured into the gym, on last Friday night to be welcomed. And they were welcomed, right royally, by Mr. Edgley. Professor Kirk in a dinner Jacket, Messrs. Tweedledum and Tweedledee, and numerous entertainers.

President Edgley, nervously licking his lips, delivered one of the most enjoyable speeches in his career as President. He started and finished in a benign and fatherly manner, as befitted such an Important person, but what might vulgarly be called the guts of his speech, was excellent He made a number of rude remarks about the freshettes and horse-troughs and several improper suggestions re Victoria Hostel. He stated that he had watched the freshettes with great interest since their entry at V.U.C., and was sure everyone was going to have a good time this year.

He recommended freshers to beware of the little Professor with an eye-shade who tapped on a typewriter and called lady students "Mademoiselle": and recommended law students to study Gaelic before attending Professor Adamson's lectures.

The usual injunctions to take part in College activities and club functions; the usual Introductions to the old students, such as Messrs. Scotney, Wild, and [unclear: Ilott]; the usual hopes that it would be a long time before the freshers passed their Degrees so that they would be with us for a considerable time; a little blah and a magnificent peroration; and Mr. Edgley bowed, licked his lips, and gracefully retired.

Messrs. Tweedledum and Tweedledee, after selling a number of Glee Club song, books, led Extrav, and other songs in their inimitable style, and the freshers responded nobly. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about the function, which was advertised "for freshers only," was the fact that non-freshers preponderated.

The old favourites in Varsity entertainment then took the stage (which lacked a curtain) and gave of their best to the assembled multitude. Paul Taylor, looking pretty as usual, delivered "Treasure Trove." accompanied by the composer, who later sang "Josephine" and other traditional V.U.C. numbers. Ron Meek presented a mystifying programme of magical effects, including a remarkable demonstration of telepathy with a pack of cards. He was lucky in his choice of an assistant—none other than Mr. Guy Bliss, who later took part in an excellent humorous sketch.

And then the lower half of the Gym, vomited its contents upstairs; the piano was thumped by relays of musicians; the usual large knot of males gathered round the entrances and looked longingly at the blushing wallflowers; the Lambeth Walk was walked and the Destiny [unclear: z] was waltzed.

As we write, the Lambeth Walk is bring danced. A noise of stamping and "[unclear: ois]" is endangering the foundations of the Gym; [unclear: one] despairs for the future of the dance.

Still, everybody's having a good time.

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