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Now that squash is well established in our midst, we are glad to welcome the latest University sport, which is termed "Going-in-town-and picking-up-a-little-on the curb," more briefly, "Bucking the Curb." Never has there been a more delightful innovation. The equipment is very little-a little money, and the ability to say "Buy" or "Sell." One other requisite seems to be a rather large, rather black cigar, and the ability to tilt it heavenward at a precarious and important angle. These, coupled with a slight frown on the brow which shields mighty thoughts, and our undergraduate Napoleon of Finance is ready for the fray.

His mental attitude is not like that on the day of the Yale game. Then he is quite sure of the outcome; this time he is dead sure. Of course, he has no thought that any of the "Consolidateds" or "Topsy-Turvys" with which he plays are actually worth anything--he is much too wise for that. He knows that behind the game there stands the sinister figure of the wolf, but, believe him, this little lamb is not going to follow the flock. Wonderful little "Man of Destiny."

We started by greeting a new sport, but we must close by greeting a new course. Alas! it has been our experience that this amusement has tuition fees. But then, no Widow is needed to drive home the lesson--"He who plays with fire will be burned."

But away with unsolicited advice--every day on the Curb has a dozen Waterloos--we only hope that our "little Corporals" will save carfare so that they can come to Saint Helena and play squash.

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