FRESH AIR

Spring vacation! On this day of days these are the two most beautiful words in the English language. The student yawns, stretches his legs, and reaches for a time-table. "Philadelphia and New York ho-hum--Bermuda, Hot Springs, Pinehurst--let's see." Oh why worry about trains and solid facts. The sun beams geniably, gentle zephyrs blow, the old elms are putting out new buds, and the grass in front of Sever is greener then eyer before. The brisk concourse on the walks has changed to idle groups of strollers who playfully feed the squirrels and resent the bell's last call to classes.

With their precious swaddled charges, nursemaids have come back to the yard, glorifying it with pink bands and baby carriages, bringing with them a touch of domesticity, a gentle reminder of Spring. The long-suffering tradesmen of the Square have forgotten their unpaid bills and are lounging contentedly in the doorways, watching the student exodus--secure in the knowledge that their creditors will soon be back.

Only the Seniors are left and they, alas have lost the indefinable buoyancy of Spring. They stroll distractedly through the yard seeing nothing of the beauty around them, thinking, thinking, thinking how four years of knowledge can be crammed in one short week.