For over 26 years, Harvard has been graced by the Lowell House Bells. Until divine justice eradicates them, the bells will continue to be an inescapable fact of life in Cambridge. That they perform no useful or aesthetic function does not alter this fact. They are here to stay.

Until the trump of Gabriel stills their clatter, Harvard must live with them. It must resign itself to being awakened on Sunday mornings at an hour too late to go to church and too early for civilized men to go to lunch. Worse, it must face the use of the bells as advertisements for amateur theatricals.

In the face of this gruesome inevitability, the Harvard community must seek ways to ameliorate a condition which only Armageddon can end. Knowing that the bells will not resign themselves to an ornamental quiet, we must search for the only people who know how to control them. Somewhere in Russia, where the bells were cast, there exists, we pray, a sect of monks who are the original trustees of the bells. Either the present Quasimodos of Lowell House must go to these learned men for lessons, or one of the brothers must be persuaded to leave his peaceful retreat. If the monks are made to realize that the mission will constitute an errand of mercy to thousands, we know that they will consent. We could not face life if they refused.