library, is overgrown with ivy planted by graduating classes. The Art School contains excellent collections of paintings, marbles, and casts, together with several studios and class rooms. The other buildings, known as “Old Lab.,” “Cabinet,” and “Treasury” are, it is to be hoped, as useful as they are unattractive. So much for the campus proper. Near by are the new Sloane Physical Laboratory, the gymnasium, and the Peabody Museum, which even in its present incomplete state is one of the largest buildings in New Haven. The collections are excellent, being especially complete in the departments of mineralogy and palæontology. Within the radius of a few squares are the Sheffield Scientific School, the Divinity School, and the departments of Law and Medicine. Let us now turn to the composition of the college community. The four classes are separated by very clearly defined lines. While, of course, there are many friendships between men of different classes, as a rule men associate exclusively with their own classmates. When it is remembered that a class averages one hundred and fifty men, one explanation of this clannishness is obvious. It takes four years for a student to know his classmates, and among them he will find all the friends he needs. Until within the last year or two the elective system, which brings members of different classes into the same recitation room, has not been in operation, and men have always recited with their classmates exclusively. Another prominent reason for class feeling, as it is called, is found in athletic rivalry. Let one attend a class boat race, hear the shouting, observe the ecstacy of delight with which the winners carry their crew on their shoulders from the boat, and he will begin to understand the real significance of class spirit. This class spirit is warmest between the two lower classes, where the friction is greatest. Just here we may refer to hazing and rushing, which are objects of so much popular misapprehension. That in early years freshmen were subjected to rough, and often brutal treatment, can not be denied. But that order of things has passed away, together with early chapel and biennial examinations. A “rush” is nothing more than an attempt of freshmen and sophomores, arranged in solid phalanxes, to force each other back. Such a thing as a decision on a rush is unknown, and the whole affair has the advantage of leaving both sides assured of a “most decisive and brilliant victory.” Hazing is confined to the first few weeks of the term, and is harmless, not to say puerile, in its character. Sophomores wander about the streets, admonishing freshmen to “put out” their lights. If these commands are not complied with, the hazers ascend to the room of the audacious freshman, quiz him awhile, and then put him to bed, where he stays until his persecutors have left, when he resumes his interrupted tasks. The whole thing is a farce, and can not last much longer.