HERE LIES--

The American college student, regaled with novels like Daudet's Sappho and nourished upon choice anecdotes of the Montmartre, has long been accustomed to look to Paris as the Elysian Fields of the genus Student. But the days of cheap beer and gay grisettes exist only in the imagination. The present lot of the Parisian student is indeed, a sorry one.

The tremendous rise in prices during and since the war has severely restricted the jollities which a student's budget formerly permitted; the gallant roysterer, who danced all night and slept all day, has been replaced by a changeling, a quiet fellow, pinched and shabby, who stands in line to get a little extra work, and who saves even on the midnight oil.

Thus fades the student magnificent; but only to change his abode. Stepping with seven league boots, the roistering scholar has set up a tidy little bohemian inferno of his own in the sacred precincts of Back Bay. The Quartier Latin in the flood days of vin rouge never dreamed of such boisterous revelry, nor of such cheerful flouting of conventionality as nightly reigns upon the banks of the Charles; if one may believe what he reads. But Fate is cruel, and already the prying eye of the reformer is looking askance at these nocturnal festivities. The end cannot be far; the unwanted rollicking student may soon be nothing but a squeaking and thirsty ghost.