Tennis Club.

With hail and sleet beating on the windows, we lounge luxuriously in front of the big log fire in mo Common Common Room to evolve our monthly Tennis Club notes. A slight disturbance is caused by Brookie, who apologetically removes our feet from the ornamental mantelpiece in order to put another half-dozen logs on the fire. Our thoughts, in the manner characteristic of the Tennis Club Committee, turn naturally to matters of finance and speculate idly on the vision of that gentleman in Christchurch accepting his little windfall of two million the other day. With such a sum at our command our noble Club would be able to realise its ideal of presenting Charlie Plank with a gold-mounted green tennis court, in grateful recognition of services rendered in supplying us with our new courts. As, however, the gentleman who has the two millions has not replied to our communication of recent date, in which we reminded him of the few hundred thousand that he borrowed from us last pay day, we are still in the painful position of owing a few quids on the aforesaid courts. A bridge party has been arranged to take place shortly, but as the Professorial Board has not yet granted permission for us to use the Women's Common Room for the purpose, it has been necessary for us to postpone the function sine die.

When we were reminded by his Excellency the Editor that our contribution to this issue was overdue, we protested that there was nothing interesting to write about. "Oh, write about anything, the flies on the tennis courts, or something like that," he said. As it was well known to members of our Club, however, that there are no flies on the tennis-courts, it only remains for us to say "Cheerio!" and relapse once again into idle speculation.