Farewell to Professor Easterfield

The Chemistry Department is still mourning the loss of Professor Easterfield. A few days before he left he delivered a farewell lecture to his old students. Here he sketched, in his ever lucid and jovial manner, his own career from early boyhood and worked in the history of Victoria College in a most instructing manner. The students were indeed fortunate in having suggested such a fruitful subject for an address. Those in a position to read between the lines got some idea of the depth of feeling which the severing of his connection with the Old College must have occasioned Professor Easterfield. Indeed, it is well known that he page 42 designed the College himself and fought hard to have it placed on the new Technical College site. Not only with the past or with the present did he deal, but also with the future; for with regard to the betterment of the College he offered many valuable suggestions and encouragements, which we hope will have the desired result. At the conclusion of his address he was heartily applauded.

The President of the Students' Association (Mr. S. Mansfield), in presenting the Professor with a gold wristlet watch as a token of esteem from the students, made a very suitable speech, eloquently expressing the feelings of all those present. He wished Professor Easterfield all success in his new appointment, rightly stressing the manner in which the students regarded their late Professor, not only as a teacher, but also as a friend.

Professor Easterfield suitably replied in a few words, and the meeting closed with cheers for him given lustily in the good old style.

Fresher:"I smashed two beakers in that experiment yesterday." Audience:"What did the Prof, do?" Fresher:He made a retort." Teacher:"All day long we are breathing in oxygen. What do we breathe at night?" Willie:"Nitrogen." Teacher:"Jones, mention a unit of electricity." Jones (waking up): "W'at?" Teacher:"Correct."

An electrical supply merchant hung up the following sign in his window:—"Don't kill your wife. Let one of our electric washing machines do the dirty work."

Nervous Old Lady: "Constable, is it dangerous to put my foot on the tram rail?" P.C. Murphy: "No, mum; not widout ye put yer other fut on the overhead wire." X.: "Why did you drop that bun?" Y.: "It gave me such a shock." X.: "How's that," Y.: "There was a currant in it."