TO SLEEP! AY, THERE'S THE RUB

The New York commission for the suppression of unnecessary noise would find a fertile field for research in the vicinity of Harvard Square. Nearly every variety of irritating clatter that could be devised to disturb the weary student or the would-be sleeper has been practised and brought to the ultimate degree of boisterous refinement by certain Satan-inspired undergraduates.

The devilish ingenuity exhibited by some persons in combining the alarm clock effects of a loud cut-out and a sing-song auto horn throughout the length of Mt. Auburn Street just as the majority of the residents of Randolph, Claverly and the other Mt. Auburn buildings are about to surrender themselves to the soothing to embrace of Morpheus, merits a drastic cure. For the benefit of New York's commission, a variation of the Chinese torture is suggested, whereby all these destroyers of peace be sentenced to padded cells, where they may slowly starve to death to the tune of a thousand mixed auto horns.

The same method might be used to correct other lovers of cacaphony. Those who insist on letting their radios loose at full blast in what should be the dead of night could be cheerfully sentenced to an eternity of bad jazz. For the Gold Coast bottle-throwers and week-end revelers, a hell of raucous outcries, accompanied by an undertone of breaking glass could well be prescribed.

This dream of a Utopia of comparative silence between midnight and the first noise rumbling of the milk wagons at the break of drawn is probably impossible to achieve--but it is a pleasant dream for hose few precious, hard-gleaned moments of sleep.