THE BOW STREET HAIR SHIRT

Undergraduates who study, play bridge, and, theoretically, sleep in the Bow Street dormitories will feel a throb of sympathy at the news that the population of Park Avenue in New York is rising in revolt against a chime of bells recently installed in un uptown church. Just when the nurse gets the baby to sleep, five o'clock strikes with much metallic prelude; and by the time the miracle is once more accomplished, the chime strikes the quarter with such gusto that the child's temper is permanently ruined. There is a great deal of romance about bells; but is not fully evident anywhere within a radius of half a mile.

At least four hundred undergraduates will need no application of the parallel. Westmorly, Russell and some parts of Randolph echo with profanity every morning when the Church of St. Paul begins to announce determinedly that time is passing. Why avoid nine o'clock if this tactless timepiece is going to insist on such an unpleasant fact early and often? If one relies on the chimes, they are sure to hibernate in winter; and the time they indicate is always more original than accurate.