IN THE NEW YORK MANNER

Where to go when one's college dormitory is padlocked? This is the poignant problem which confronts eighty students at the University of Michigan, thanks to an untimely raid by the local authorities, in the course of which a quantity of spirituous liquors were found hidden in the attic of the dormitory.

The cry of protest which goes up as a result of the remarkable punishment meted out by the college to the offenders seems very well justified. Certainly not all those evicted could have been interested in the hidden cache, but the college has decided that all shall share a similar fate. Just at the time when the rugs have been laid on the floor and the furniture has begun to assume a natural air--then does the iron hand of the law drive the exiles out into the world to seek a new lodging. While the affair makes admirable copy for metropolitan newspapers and will amuse countless burghers in numerous cities, the students involved must have sentiments much akin to those of the banished Huguenots and the Moors of Spain.

If the fingers of guilt can be pointed at only a few of the exiles it is hard to discover the point of exacting such a harsh penalty. If, on the other hand, the whole group are guilty, it seems thoughtless of the college authorities to leave eighty landlords of the peaceful city of Ann Arbor to the mercy of such Bachanalian roomers.