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The Spike: or, Victoria College Review, June 1928

I.—the Secretary of the Dramatic Club

I.—the Secretary of the Dramatic Club.

At the muffled shout "Come in!" I timidly turned the door handle and sidled gently into his room, found the nearest chair, promptly subsided therein and waited expectantly, with pencil poised, for the great man to speak.

"What," I asked "are your views on modern literature"?

"Ah! modern literature," he said, in a meditative fashion, as he leant back in his armchair. While he thus thought I had time to notice his deeply set eyes, his fine pointed fingers, his roughly brushed hair, his new pearl-gray double-breasted suit (price £4 4s. Od. with extra pair of trousers, as advertised) and the Chinese cigarette which he negligently smoked. Here, I thought, was a man of powerful personality yet withal genially humane, one capable of savouring the supreme triumphs of the actor's art yet steadfast in his allegiance to high ideals. I had known him of old when we were be the undergraduates at V.U.C. together, laying down the law to our elders in the Free Discussions Club or even in the Common Room, with the usual youthful inconsistency. Now, however, he had become a great man—no mean actor, a connoisseur of books, of wine, and, might one add, of women?—while I had become a mere drudge, the cub reporter to "Spike." Although, therefore, my erstwhile friend remembered me only distantly, nevertheless I still retained for him much of my old admiration.

"Well," he said at last, in tones of dramatic mastery, 'I don't know. Out-side the pages of "Spike" and perhaps those of "Truth," I find very little of real interest in modern literature. Of course," he added quickly, "we still have such old favourites as Ethel M. Dell—I must lend you her beautiful book: "The Rosary"; Bertha Ruck—I find her 'What Happened Behind the Billets' one of the most essentially artistic productions of our age, and, last but not least, that prince of novelists, Wadgar Ellis. But beyond the work of these acknowledged masters, I find the outlook black; inky black, in fact. So that when now I wish for serious reading I always turn to the pages of 'Truth.' At present." he added brightly, "I am studying the exploits of the Kewpie Club, They make very interesting reading, I assure you, and help to relieve the monotony of over-much concentration upon academic works."

"Thank you," I said. "I am sure your remarks will be of great interest to readers of 'Spike,' many of whom are just of the age when guidance, other than that provided by our worthy Professor of English Literature at V.U.C, can be of the utmost service and value in forming their youthful minds on right lines."

"But tell me further," I went on. 'I understand that you are contemplating some small piece of research work on the nature of laughter. Would it be possible for you to give me some particulars that might be of interest?"

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"Ah! Laughter,"' the great man replied. "A very deep subject, I assure you, full of metaphysical subtleties and practical problems. Now if I could discover what the Absolute laughed at I would have the key of the problem in my—"

"Quite so," I hastily assured him, "but your methods of work?"

"Oh, quite simple," was the reply. "I have been studying the inmates of such institutions as the Ohiro Home, the Home for the Aged Needy, the Condemned Cell—one of my most pleasant experiences was a few minutes' chat with a man who was hanged for getting rid of seven wives—his excuse was that they bored him—and also the Karitane Home. I don't know which institution provided me with the hardest work. At the latter, I played tigers and trains and quite spoilt the crease in my trousers. At the two former, I told funny stories and acted the drunken man. Quite exhausting work, but it gives me data; also practice unfortunately, however, the babies do not think me funny and have refused me admittance at the Home again."

Just then I had a brain wave.

"I have two small nieces," I said. "Perhaps you would like to experiment with them? I am sure their mothers would be only too pleased to sacrifice their future happiness at the altar of science."

Our hero's face lightened. A smile flashed across his countenance and chased away the gloom. "You are indeed a true friend," he said. "Come and celebrate."

It was just a few minutes to six. Together we raced neck for neck down into town, only to find that my watch was exactly sixty minutes slow ......