The melancholy fate of the Charleston College bell naturally leads us to investigate the situation of our own academical tintinnabulum. We have been having some chilly nights of late, and we are forced to believe that the authorities have rather neglected the casus belli, - case of our own bell. If we may be pardoned for interference in a matter which, strictly speaking, is none of our business, we would suggest that a proctor be delegated to sit up nights with the bell, and see that it does not throw of its bed clothes. Nay, further, we would be pleased to start a subscription paper for providing the ancient annunciator on Harvard Hall with hot "Toms and Jerrys," and other comforting liquids, during the continuance of the present cold snap. We trust that the college will chime in with our sentiments, since we are trying to ring in no scheme of personal advantage. Our columns are open to any communications on this topic bearing the magic signature "'89," though we reserve the option of proceeding to clapper stopper on any correspondents who give tongue too freely.