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SMAD. An Organ of Student Opinion. 1937. Volume 8. Number 5.

The Guidian Epistles

The Guidian Epistles

No former treatise have we made unto thee, O Fresher, being notte moved to write unto thee aforetime.

Now thou hast lefte the quiette secluded Life and hast blossomed for the into that Noble Being, the Students, and it becomes us to write unto thee wordes of advyce and counsel. For do we notte know, have we notte learnte by cruelle experience, the trials and pit-falls that await thee.

Heed well, my childe, that thinge which inhabiteth the Celle, Grotto or Hole on the right of the Portal. Cross notte his path, use notte vain wordes against him, for can he notte, with one snappe of his fingers, make even the Olde and Mightie One cease his turmoil and move silentlie, yea, even as a shadow moveth across the floor ? Treat him as thou wouldst a Wilde Animal and it may even come to pass that he will eat out of thy hand.

Truste notte thy Stomach unto the food, fodder or grubbe whych can be purchased at that subterranean stalle. Avoid it, O my childe, it is an abomination; it smelleth, yea, it stinketh in the nostrils.

Never so much as heede all the Laws, Regulations and Customs of the Roome of the Manie Bookes—all is vanity. Of what use is the Smalle carde to the Wise? Cannot the wary use the aforementioned Roome, yea, even take Tomes therefrom if onlie he use guile and a little cunning ?

Mark well the grounde of the Tombes whych lieth intar thee; know fully its pathes and nookes. Its uses are manifold—for meditation and prayers (seldom)—for work (even more seldom); for storing away the Bottle (often) and yea, for manie, manie other sundrie uses whych, alas, we consider neither goode nor righte.

If thou canst go notte unto thy lectures, or if thou shouldst finde something more interesting to do—and thate is no hard taske—worrie notte, my childe. Say unto thy neighbour: "Place me a mark, cross or other sign to show I be there, although in facte I be manie miles away," and he will never say thee nay. For who knowest, thou mightest be able to repay him in like fashion.

Of Worke, the Curse of this Worlde (but of the Nexte, we hope notte), do the leaste, the verie leaste, yea, the barest amount, and thou will be happie. Consider the Nonne.—Swottes, they toil notte, neither do they sleepe and yet we say unto thee, that even Angels in all their glory be notte as happie as one of these. For if thou doest swotte, which to-day, be remembered, and by November be forgotten, how much more canst thou enjoy Life if thou workest notte.

This advyce I give unto thee: Mark, learn and even inwardly digest, for the wordes be wise from that Saintlie Man.

—St. Guido.

Stark Tragedy.
Damn it—Ilott
Would spile it.
Why in the hell was he born
The dastard who lost the

drinking horn.

The Goods an Exec.

We hear that two otherwise respectable members of our Stud. Assn., Bob Edgley and Dick Wild, have found a novel and delightful occupation, namely, the honourable profession of bartenders' assistants.