The Capping Ceremony, after a somewhat checkered career, now appears to have achieved that happy medium of staid respectability and youthful irresponsibility which pleases all concerned.

After Professor Easterfield, one of the foundation Professors of V.U.C., had indulged in a few reminiscences, the Haeremai Club became somewhat restive with a consequent and ostentatious display of newspaper. The Professor ploughed gamely on, undeterred by broad hints to speak up, and proceeded to a peaceful finish after the Haeremai Club had risen as one man with the right hand clapped to their ear and an expression of agonised entreaty, or, should we say enquiry?, on their collective face.

Tocsin.

The flutter of a wild bell
In the thronged Hall ....
Does it sound the knell
Of that indescribable hell—
Nights of long cramming in the early hours?
Ah, who can tell? Perhaps we shall
In later time recall
Memories of mocking notes.
Ushering long years of post-graduate grind!
Hark how the clangour floats
From where the robed staff sits resigned
To student folly—till one of mind
A little more discerning than the rest
Darts forth and throttles the alarm with zest;
And the Ceremony still drones on....

Then came the conferring of degrees.

The women graduates received an impartial contribution of applause from the audience, and bouquets from their sisters, cousins, and others. The males were sometimes greeted with remarks not quite calculated to put them at their ease—but the most joyous welcome was reserved for Hob Bradshaw, who received half the contents of a green grocer's shop, much to the consternation of Mr. Robison, who expresed his disapproval of the proceedings by firmly ejecting the large deputation of Weir House students who had invaded the sanctity of his particular section of the platform. Joyous shouts of "arrest the Registrar" greeted his frantic efforts to dislodge the invaders, but, as one scientist has since remarked, "he had the advantage of position," and virtue remained triumphant, although somewhat dishevelled, and the stage resumed its pristine state of glorious imbecility until the arrival of Messrs Bilks and Wild, who were treated in somewhat similar fashion.

A bright moment of the evening was heralded by the arrival of Messrs Laurel and Hardy, who strode unregarding through the audience, now set agape by their unexpected arrival, and so up the steps, with a somewhat haughty nod to the baffled Vice-Chancellor, where they solemnly encircled Ian Campbell's neck with the L.E.I, of assorted vegetables.