The subject of ventilation in college recitation rooms has been the theme of numberless complaints. These protests seem to have had little effect, however, as the air in many of the rooms continues abominable. The surprising part of it all is that the men themselves do not take one of the remedies into their own hands, and open some windows. A class will sit through a recitation with every window tight shut, will grow drowsier every minute the air grows worse, and yet no one will have the common sense to open two windows a few inches at the top, and set some good air circulating. Much has been said, and wisely too, about the sanitary necessity of pure air. There is another side of the question which may Perhaps appeal more directly to the men themselves. Close air makes a man sleepy. His brain becomes sluggish, and though he may be just as willing to pay close attention to what is being said in the class room, yet his brain refuses to do its full work the man loses a large part of the benches of the lecture. When a certain amount of knowledge is being handed to a man, it is folly for him to limit himself to taking only a part of it. This is exactly what the student does who surrounds himself with close air in a lecture room. And the effects moreover are carried beyond the lecture room. When the student comes to do his studying the results of the close air still cling to him, his brain does not work quickly, and he becomes drowsy. Everyone knows how much longer it takes to learn a lesson, if he is all the time on the verge of falling asleep, than if he could put all his energies into his work. Close air in a recitation room brings on this sleepiness; fresh air will do much to destroy it.