The Oracle Speaks

Brookie—An Institution

In the year of our Lord 1937 a Smadist walked reverently up to Brookie to ascertain that sage's Opinion of how 1937 V.U.C. appeared to him, and as a prophet what prophetic denunciation would he let fall like precious stones upon the barren smadist beneath.

"What do you think of the Freshers, oh Brookie?"

"Better than the old stuff, anyway!" This was hissed in true prophetic growl. "They go where they're put, anyway"; and not to be daunted, the great man, upon the spot, slapped two innocent and timorous youths (much smaller than himself!) on the shoulder, whilst they were harmlessly notice-board gazing; then followed an order staccatoed with finger-clicking not to block up the hall. The kids disappeared and the goat was left in charge—"Smad" prefers the old stuff.

"What do you think of the T.C. students, oh Famous Sage?"

"A rough lot." with a shake of his head, "always will be!" and the little Smadist agreed.

"Then Brookie would you like to meet Mrs. Simpson?" and the answer to that—my pen fails me— one's own imagination is a safe and pure thing—Brookie was feeling his liver that night.—M.B.