ometimes, when we
were sunk dismally in the irregular verbs, bootblacks and old-clothes
men stopped on the street and grinned down on us. And all the dreary
hour, as we sweated with translation, above us on the pavement the
feet and happy legs of the enfranchised went by the window.

Yale is a bad jumble of architecture. It is amazing how such
incongruous buildings can lodge together. Did not the Old Brick Row
cry out when Durfee was built? Surely the Gothic library uttered a
protest against its newer adjunct. And are the Bicentennial buildings
so beautiful? At best we have exchanged the fraudulent wooden
ramparts of Alumni Hall for the equally fraudulent inside columns of
these newer buildings. It is a mercy that there is no style and
changing fashion in elm trees. As Viola might have remarked about the
Campus: it were excellently done, if God did all.

Presently in the dark I came on the excavations for the Harkness
quadrangle. So at last Commons was gone. In that old building we ate
during our impoverished weeks. I do not know that we saved much, for
we were driven to extras, but the reckoning was deferred. There was a
certain tutti-frutti ice-cream, rich in ginger, that has now vanished
from the earth. Or chocolate eclairs made the night stand out. I
recall that one could seldom procure a second helping of griddlecakes
except on those mornings when there were ants in the syrup. Also, I
recall that sometimes there was a great crash of trays at the pantry
doors, and almost at the instant two old Goodies, harnessed ready with
mops and pails, ran out and sponged up the wreckage.

And Pierson Hall is gone, that was once the center of Freshman life.
Does anybody remember _The Voice_? It was a weekly paper issued in the
interest of prohibition. I doubt if we would have quarreled with it
for this, but it denounced Yale and held up in contrast the purity of
Oberlin. Oberlin! And therefore we hated it, and once a week we burned
its issue in the stone and plaster corridors of Pierson.

There was once a residence at the corner of York and Library where
Freshmen resided. The railing of the stairs wabbled. The bookcase door
lacked a hinge. Three out of four chairs were rickety. The bath-tub,
which had been the chemical laboratory for some former student, was
stained an unhealthy color. If ever it shall appear that Harlequin
lodged upon the street, here was the very tub where he washed his
clothes. Without caution the window o