Visitors to the college come to Cambridge, look about the yard, admire the size, number and architectural beauty (as in Hollis and Stoughton) of the buildings, look into one or two of the recitation halls, hurry through the Museums, visit the library, and last but best of all, see the crowds of students enjoying with true students of students enjoying with true student relish the tempting spread on a Memorial Hall board. They have seen Harvard, or think they have, and go away satisfied doubtless to talk of Harvard's many fine buildings and superior advantages. But really they have seen only the outside of what the college has to show only the largeness and grandeur of the parietal resources of Harvard. Could they see what these buildings contain, they would certainly find much more to interest them than any outside view could give. A very common belief is that college men care little about their rooms, and caring little do little to make them pleasant and artistic. The belief is certainly false. The money and trouble spent by college men on their rooms is no small sum. Some spend thousands in this way, some hundreds, some fifties, and some only tens; but almost every man, we may be sure, spends all that he can afford. Of course those men who la out small fortunes in the furnishing and decorating of their rooms, do not labor in vain. Rooms of greater luxury and elegance are not to be found anywhere, could not be wished for. Such rooms are well worth seeing. and are pretty sure to display the latest styles in wall papers, draperies and furniture.

But the majority of the college rooms represent more moderate means, and to the less critical eye are just as pleasant and interesting, if not as luxurious and a la mode. It might be interesting to note what one finds of special interest in these sanctums of college men. Let us, therefore, make a call. We knock, and the response, "Come in!" tells us that Snodkins is in. We enter, greet the "old fellow," start out with a discussion of the late Princeton game, and finally conclude that Harvard men don't know how to play foot ball anyway. Meanwhile we have been looking around. 'Gentlemen will not occupy the seats until the ladies are seated," is the first thing to meet our eyes. In another quarter we spy the notice, "No visitors on Sunday," and innocently conclude that Mr. Snodkins spends his Sundays at home. That Snodkins is an '85 man is very soon made evident. A large '85 is upon his door, made as first appears from postal cards. Closer inspection shows the supposed cards to be suspicious somethings from the Dean's office, that proverbial "U 5." Snodkins points to these with the pride of an old soldier who shows his empty sleeve and tails of the battles he has been through. Our attention is next called to a strange device over the fire-place-a row of four cards, the ace of hearts, eight of clubs, 8 to spades and five of diamonds, a suspicious looking bottle above, and skull-and-crossbones on each side. Snodkins informs us that it is a pictorial enigma; but, not being good at pictorial enigmas, we pass on, and come to the "shingles," so called, from which we learn that our host belongs to H. A. A., H. S. C., H. P. C., H. C. C., and H. t. A. L. Other things near by give evidence that he is a member of the nine, plays on the foot ball team and belongs to the Harvard Dining Association; also that he is an editor of the Harvard Advocate, and connected in various ways with every other organization of the college. A certificate for Highest Second-Year Honors in Mathematics hangs in a conspicuous place on the wall, and on a side table is a nicely bound book, which on closer examination proves to be a "detur."

Our host now gracefully informs us that he has a committee meeting to attend, excuses himself. and urges us to stay as long as we please and make ourselves at home but really he must go, and, of course, we go also.

In addition to the ornaments of Snodkin's room, which I have mentioned, were things of more worth and beauty, if not of more interest. Bric-a-brac of every sort, photo, paintings and so on, adorn the walls, which are literally covered from ceiling to wainscoting. Among them a piece made from the uniform worn on November 3, a wonderful combination of plug hat, torch, uniform and "black bottle."

Thus it is that college men labor to make their rooms not only pleasant but interesting, and indeed success in this is pretty general. I doubt if there is a room that has not something of originality in it in the line of decoration. Even the most indifferent man will have something which he has labored over and which he wants his visitors to appreciate. Decorative art on college rooms is indeed a branch of art by itself, and finds no parallel anywhere else. College rooms are really an interesting study, and visitors to Cambridge are fortunate if they be friends of any students.

NEMO.

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