- ruts WEEK, for the first time in more than nine
years, there is no competition, or competition report, on the penultimate page of the Spectator. The occasion, which is a sad one for many readers (to judge by our postbag) as well. as. us, should not be allowed to pass without a valedictory word. The literary competition arose to till a need when the first great crossword boom, before the war, began to slacken off; more than a mathe- matical or inferential problem (with the deepest of bows to Mr. Hubert Phillips), less than an essay, the literary competition has had a steady follow- ing and a reputation similar to that enjoyed by the Week-End Book. Of course, there were periodic complaints that the same people walked off with the prizes every week (Allan M. Laing, Rhoda Tuck Pook, R. Kennard Davis, D. R. Peddy and many other of our 'regulars'), but these complaints, like all such, generally seemed to come from the consistently unsuccessful, like losing Test teams who complain of the umpiring. Now it is felt that the form has had a goodish innings, and that although the ingenuity of the solvers was as fresh and subtle as ever, the time has come to move on to something different. For the 'regulars'—and, indeed, the many 'irregulars' —I should say that there will be occasional com- petitions in the future, so they will not be entirely without their familiar fare. To all those who have set, attempted and reported on the 472 Spectator competitions, thanks—and congratulations.
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