The mind, which conceived a room, labelied Emerson H, on the second floor of Emerson Hall, Monday morning, is probably convalescing in a sanitarium. At any rate, the forty Juniors who had to find it before they could take their History Departmental Examinations have received mental shocks which will all the Hostel House or Stillman for some sine to comes.
They had arrived at 3.55 o'clock to prepare for an intellectual seating on world history. They had even adjusted themselves to the room, made dreary by Plato, Kant, and the architect. But at nine o'clock they received the terse order from the proctor that they must find Emerson H on the second floor before they could take their examination. The desperate band rushed forth only to find that Emerson H, had been carelessly misplaced for the morning.
All individuals of official posture reiterated monotonously that they had never heard of Emerson H. "It's probably in the basement," said they. Near the basement the group snared Crane Brinton, who had composed the examinations. Perceiving the grave predicament, he advised the band to sneak past the proctors into Emerson D. Fortunately, they followed his advice and at 9.10 assumed the same seats they had occupied at 8.55.
The mental strain to which these individuals were subjected at such a crisis in their lives can be excused on the basis of the survival of the fittest. The thing which does give one pause, however, is to think that this example may be shaping these forty Juniors into sadists, just like the martinet of a proctor who ran Monday's show.