Found, One Letter.

When the 'Varsity's pure-minded innocents (so far only two have been observed) conduct an entirely private correspondence in the presence of some of the chivalry of Weir House, it seems a somewhat painful reflection upon the latter that such correspondence, when left trustfully, if advertently, in the Library, to their tender mercies, should be seized upon and made the common property of the denizens of the dens of dissipating in that hostel. Sir, such behaviour is unworthy of the noble reputation for pious uprightness of spirit and well-nigh sanctimonious integrity possessed by that institution. I trust that the God-fearing respectability of its inmates will be so outraged that public meetings for repentant meditation will be held by all those responsible.

Surely the rumour is unauthorised that reference is to be made to the contents of this purely flippant and private epistle in your journal? If there is any suggestion of foundation for such a tale, Sir, I warn you that I shall henceforth cease to take a copy of your paper—lent me each week by a friend.

Injured If Not So Innocent.

The Outburst Itself.

[Here is the lovelorn epistle that we print as of interest to Freudian Psychology.]

This is the last message. I was going to write in blood, but decided that ink was cheaper. I am going to drink myself to death for your sake, or else I shall hurl myself from the bannisters of the third floor on top of you as you stand looking sadly in the letter-rack where never more will you find a letter of mine. Cruel maid, farewell. I have only one injunction to give you with my parting gasp—er snort. Beware of a middle-sized, chubby, dark man with a roguish smile. Thine to eternity,

Heartless one,

The Skeleton.

P.S.—Think of me sitting on a cold marble slab, clad in a wisp of cloud, dismally playing on my mouth-organ to you below.

P.P.S.—I have decided you are not worth the effort, after all, and am going to South Africa to shoot—er—convert big natives instead. Perhaps they will send you my head on a salver. You could use it as an ornament for the drawing-room mantelpiece when the chubby, dark man hs taken my place.

Harriers.

Last Saturday the Harrier Club held its annual handicap race over a new course at Karori. The race commencing at the top of Marsden Hill, completed a mile circle before proceeding along Wilton Road to the Reserve. A steep ascent through the bush on to the summit of the ridge provided a fitting preparation for the long sprint down Parkvale Road to the finish. The 17 starters were despatched at varying intervals by Mr. G. Sherwood, the scratch men giving handicaps up to 12 minutes. Owing to the difficult nature of the course, some of the runners had trouble in following the correct route, but keen racing was the order of the day, a cool wind on the summit assisting all to a speedy finish. T. Price was the winner, and also put up fastest time, covering the 6/3/4 miles in 43min. 23sec. G. Oliver was second and F. B. Shorland third. The order or the fastest times is as follows: T. Price, 43min. 23sec; F. B. Sherwood, 44min. 32sec; W. B. Lang 45min. 23sec. The scratch men, A. G. Bagnall and M. O'Connor, finished at the end of the field, having run at least a mile beyond the distance.

Teams for the provincial championships on Saturday are as follow: A Grade—A. G. Bagnall, M. O'Connor, T. Price, W. B. Lang, A. G. Horsley, and D. R. Scrymgeour; B. Grade—P. Porter, D. A. Viggers, D. Cairns, F. B. Shorland, M. McElroy, R. Miller