"THERE is not a building, nor a corner of a building, with which a Harvard man can have any pleasant associations from beauty of architecture." This is lamentable, but undeniable. Harvard College, in its present condition, is a wilderness of brick and mortar, and is only saved from positive ugliness by its venerable elms and shady lawns. Aside from architectural grace, most of our buildings are composed of that ugliest of materials, - red brick. A red brick building never becomes venerable, - it merely grows dingy. No amount of smoke, mould, or historic interest, can improve such a structure in appearance.

But is there no way of altering the too sanguinary exterior of our halls? The Cubans paint their buildings yellow, pink, or blue, with variously tinted roofs; but this would give our staid dormitories a bizarre appearance, out of place in our northern climate, although, indeed, they might be dyed magenta, to match our crockery. There is, however, one improvement which we earnestly advocate, namely, the more lavish employment of woodbine or ivy. A brick building overgrown with ivy has a most venerable and even picturesque appearance. Of course, ivy could not be trained over the dormitories; but over the ends of Harvard and Holworthy, and, above all, Memorial, ivy or some kindred plant would hang most gracefully. If the naked sides of Memorial were veiled with a rich growth of ivy, the hall might in time be considered a picturesque and beautiful feature in the landscape; while, at present, it appears decidedly to the best advantage at night.