THE PREMATURE ALARM

As a matter of tradition, the conscientious query is annually posed by the Crimson: "For what occult reason are the unfortunate inhabitants of the Yard forcibly reminded each morning, by the frenzied exultation of the bell on Harvard Hall, that the cold grey hour of seven is at hand?" As a matter of tradition too, the answer has been forthcoming "Nobody knows, and nobody seems to care--" except the long suffering Seniors who are fated to sleep, or rather to try to sleep, in the immediate vicinity of the clamor.

But the answer may now be found in the parallel of a pitiful story dealing with Russia, Queen Catharine and an innocent little violet. It seems that one evening, Her Highness discovered the flower in the strange process of growing in the Royal park, and deciding not to pluck it until the following dawn, caused a sentry to be stationed near at hand to indicate the spot. The incident promptly escaped the Queen's memory, with the result that the devoted sentinel spent the rest of his days loyally guarding the sacred precinct.

Just as the royal order was never rescinded, so has the ancient command of erstwhile days become lodged in the realm of perpetual watchful waking. Those who cherish a generous hope that succeeding generations may be spared the matutinal proclamation--abandon such wanton waste of brain energy! For as long as royal decrees survive, and until the initiative spirit of the outside world has penetrated the venerable customs of antiquity, the inane din will continue to destroy precious Senior slumber.