"What was that meeting I saw you at last night?"

"That was no meeting--that was a merry-go-round." Which it would be--if you were to try to have a look-in at the host of meetings scheduled for tonight.

From Granville Hicks to Professor Latourette, from Littauer to Adams, from "The Fall of France" to "The Character of Loki," the billboards and lecture halls are jam-packed.

It is an ancient curse, this poverty in the midst of plenty. For the most ardent meeting-goer, unless he be a Superman or a Mandrake, has no choice but to go to the U.T. in utter despair.

The trouble is that nobody tells anybody else when they're planning to have somebody talk, because there's nobody they can all tell it to . . . so everybody talks at the same time and the only person who turns up to listen is the one who planned the talk and didn't tell anybody in advance. (It is just as well-organized as that.)

The Student Council wouldn't confuse the situation too much if it let these various speech-planners divulge their secrets to its office in Phillips Brooks House. Then, perhaps, you wouldn't get nobody going everywhere at the same time, because there would be fewer places to go and more people per place.