AND LEAVE THE WORLD TO SILENCE

Spring is really here at last, and in its wake come the horrors of Divisionals and Final Examinations. These two landmarks in the progress of the scholastic year are sufficiently forbidding in themselves, and when they become supplemented and aggravated by more unnatural phenomena, the cries of the oppressed and righteously indignant should be heard. Cause enough may easily be found for these cries, for with a clatter of pails, a slop of a peculiarly unpleasant liquid, and the swish of many brushes, the avalanche of painters are upon us.

The need for several coats of paint on most of the rooms in the House is obvious, but the time of application is poorly chosen. Despite the attraction which spring weather renders the great out of doors, there is a necessity for spending all of the sleeping hours and a great many of the waking hours in the rooms. While painting is going on this is naturally impossible, and even after the walls and woodwork have received their rejuvenation, the atmosphere which clings to the room is anything but conductive to concentration.

Last year, a similar situation presented itself during reading period and exams although the Freshman Class were the primary sufferers. Electric drills and cement mixers were called into play to repair the wall around the yard. So great was the disturbance that many Yardlings were forced to leave Cambridge in order to do any studying at all.

The Harvard Maintenance Department is to be congratulated on the condition in which most of the college dormitories are kept, but the times they select for repairs are unfortunate and even disastrous in many cases. With three months of vacation ahead in which the dormitories will be unused, the painters might well postpone their attacks until college closes, and "leave the world to silence and to me."