Hell's Bells!

(Ed. Note--The Crimson does not necessarily endorse opinions expressed in printed communications. No attention will be paid to anonymous letters and only under special conditions, at the request of the writer, will names be withheld.)

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To the Editor of the CRIMSON:

I would have written this communication sooner but for a certain fear I had of making myself an object of ridicule. But tonight as I sat at my desk glancing through the pages of the CRIMSON I saw something that made my heart leap for joy. All praise to Mr. A. C. B., '37! Yes, I speak of the bell. Is it, may I ask, a time-revered Harvard Institution? No? Then away with it! It is, you say? Then let the University beware, for some fine morning (--and what a morning it will be!) the bell will not be heard.

I remember distinctly a certain day last year when I was at prep. school. It suddenly occurred to me that I was going to love Harvard--for I would no longer hear at every hour the bone-shivering vibrations and thunder of a certain bell. Alas, my second morning here I was most rudely disillusioned!

I Join Mr. A. C. B. in the query, "Why? ? ? ? Why the bell?" Is it to awaken certain employees? Isn't the college aware that we have such things as alarm-clocks; that they can be had for as little as sixty-nine cents? Aren't the Powers Above aware that this nuisance is deleterious to the health? In my own case, I get one less hour of sleep each night. Think, too, of the psychological effect. It's like having a cannon go off outside your window! It usually spoils my whole morning, and I am sure I am not alone in my plight.

An I said before, I would have written this before but for a certain doubt in my mind. A few days after I got here I happened to be speaking to one of my friends, and I asked him, "Well, Hal, what do you think of being awakened at seven?" "Seven? seven?" said he. "I'm not awakened at seven." At this point the doubt entered my mind. Had I been dreaming? I resolved to count the strokes the next morning. There were one hundred and thirty-nine, gentlemen enough to last any sane, decent church bell almost two days. Yours for a New Deal.   H. J. Shirley '37.