Challenged by an arbitrary acquaintance to list fourteen components of Harvard's charm, a recent graduate replied in eloquent and numerically exact fashion. Herewith his nostalgic list:

* There are no clocks in half of Harvard's examination rooms.

* There are no writing surfaces in Boylston Auditorium.

* Broken tape recorders in the Boylston Language Lab sit for three weeks before being fixed. The electrified desks in the lab give shocks through dents in the insulating paint.

* Officials keep bicycle racks scarce in Harvard Yard, so that Cambridge Police can confiscate bicycles locked to fences by gullible Cliffies.

* Only one of the double doors to Sever 11 is ever open.

* Seats in Sever 11 are so narrow that students in English 115 have to lean Chaucer's Works on one neighbor's elbow and notebooks on the opposite neighbor's Chaucer book.

* There are no painted guidelines in the Plympton Street scooter lot.

* Harvard Hall is kept at 110 degrees Fahrenheit.

* Serving ladies are constantly shuttled around the House dining rooms, so that as soon as one learns your name she is replaced by a stranger.

* Orange juice is dispensed by Jet-Cool machines, which overflow glasses, create a Coney Island atmosphere and lower the number of vitamins in the juice.

* Breakfast ceases to be served just when most of the College is beginning to wake up.

* In many Houses, one's morning mail is delivered in the afternoon.

* Harvard Information is permanently busy.

* The postcard that says you owe Lamont a reserve book is usually the result of a clerical error.