THE COLLEGE

Lights are burning late in the dormitories these nights. Down Tuck Mall, along Massachusetts Row, over in the Fayerweathers, in the RipleyWoodward-Smith group, in Topliff and New Hampshire, the pattern is consistently the same—a checkerboard of luminous squares in the frosty blackness, with only here and there a dark window (behind it, probably, a snoring Phi Bete). Without recourse to the January calendar, and without hearing the muffled clacking of typewriter keys, one easily recognizes the semi-annual evidence that final exams are almost here. In hundreds of student rooms term papers and put-off assignments are being cleaned up before January 23 brings the really concentrated boning of the ten-day exam period.

Standing in the middle of the campus, rimmed with all these lights and all this busyness, one can sense a great river of mental energy flowing through the town, with tributaries from each dorm and fraternity house joining the main stream. You sense also that the College is alive. How different from a dark summer night when you walk past the black emptiness of dormitories and know as positively as you'll ever know it that human beingsand lighted windows—make a college, not bricks and buildings and campus elms.