It would require a flood of sentiment to convince one's reason or taste that Dane Hall in its present condition is a thing of beauty. Even before the fire, that building was entirely unsuited to its surroundings; the invasion of broad streets and the subway made it seem anachronistic. Yet in spite of its lack of the artistic, in spite of its being the home of the Bursar, Dane Hall had a certain charm. It could always glance over at Matthews or peer round the corner at Weld and put those two to shame from the standpoint of personal attraction. Also it was old, at least old for the United States, and it had become venerable. In its age, with wrinkles stealing on, it had settled down comfortably and seemed to announce to landscape gardeners and architects that it intended staying there for some time. We had all come to regard it as a privileged character, a near relative of Massachusetts, Harvard and Hollis, patriarchs of the family group.

The announcement that Dane Hall is to be torn down can only create mixed emotions within us. We are glad that a skeleton will be put to rest, but we hate to see the passing of an old-timer, especially one who used to welcome signed checks with such avidity.