HEARD IN A CLOISTER

With Robert Benehley in the same reel of talkies as Bernard Shaw, and the boy from Kiskiminetas telling mother what the fellows down in C-entry, Persis Smith, think of birth control, and Mr. Tunney off to his love with a boxing glove, ten thousand miles away, instances of distinguished courage among the educated are growing many. But each of these heroes has his audience, and can forget the sordidness of it all in the bitter-sweet taste of his own exhibitionism. What comfort can be given to the Senior, unfortunate in possessing emotional and romantic nerve centers that were too near the surface, took his room in the more quadrangled section of the Yard?

All night long Harvard Square leaps in over his windowsill. The lights glitter, gleam and tirelessly climb the wall, seeking new shadings between that illumination which merely arrests his attention and that which renders him temporarily blind. And there is the trolley's long descending squeal, the trucks that shift gears explosively and use rocket propulsion, the milkmen that talk shop. Then, through the hazy doze that comes with dawn, comes the sound of a bell that is rung. It has been truly said! When bedlam comes in at the winodw, sentiment flies out by the door.