Some years ago Edgar Allen Poe, intrigued by a tinkling sound, burst forth in sundry verses of ecstatic onomatopoeia signifying his rapturous delight in "The Bells". Mr. Poe, an authority on bellish noises, expressed supreme content with all sorts of bells--bells that tintinabulated, bells that gushed voluminous euphony, and even brazen alarum bells that shrieked.

More discriminating than Edgar Allen, however, are the students at Dartmouth who have condemned the somewhat unadulterated tintinabulation manufactured in the belfry of their Baker Library as monotonous and not delightful, despite what Poe may have written on the subject. Hence an administration evincing praise-worthy reverence for the primadonna temperament of its student body has obligingly purchased an electric keyboard operated by musical rolls with a view to civilizing Baker's obstreperous bells into respectful and conventional cadences. Sensitive Hanover ears need no longer suffer the excruciating agony; instead, well modulated hymns accompany the embryonic Emmets on their trek to classes. Dartmouth is to be commended for these theological inclinations.