"OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT."

JIM was sitting in my room the other night, with a careworn look on his face, when we were somewhat startled by the performance of a hornpipe overhead. He groaned, and then unburdened himself of this weight of woe.

"Freshman year," said he, "I roomed in Holyoke. I did n't study very much, but still I led a pretty steady life. One night in the middle of October, about ten o'clock, there were four fellows in my room, and we were all laughing loudly over some bon-mots, when a knock was heard, and in came a head, which opened its mouth and gravely said, 'Gentlemen, it is after nine o'clock, and you are keeping me awake; I must therefore warn you to make less noise,' and then disappeared. 'It's your proctor,' yelled the company, - we broke up in disgust. A short time afterwards, I was thoughtless enough to permit a little singing in my room; the head again appeared, and I got a public the next day. It was just the same the whole year, so I resolved to change my room.

"Sophomore year, I moved into Matthews. Alas! a week later, as I was trying to study, I heard a dismal tooting beneath me. After hearing 'Nancy Lee' attempted some twenty times, I got desperate, and pounded on the floor with truly Sophomoric courage. Up came a wrathy Senior, and informed me that he should practise on his cornet as much as he pleased, and that if I did n't like it I could move. And this was not the worst; a Freshy overhead was lucky enough to have a piano, and banged 'Whoa! Emma,' and other Freshmanic ditties on it all day long, accompanying a chorus of some twenty classmates. I could n't study at all, with so much noise to distract my thoughts from Italian Grammar and Natural History; result, an average of forty and one fifteenth per cent for Sophomore year.

"This year I took a ground-floor room in Holworthy, thus making sure of having no one beneath me, and having ascertained that two very quiet Seniors were above me. But I did not enjoy my peace of mind two hours. I had no sooner thrown myself on my lounge to think over my comfortable prospects, than I was startled by a tremendous yell of 'Jim' just outside my window. As my name happens to be Jim, I thought that there must be some very urgent need of me, and flung open the window just in time to hear a man in the fourth story begin a conversation with his friend below. It was carried on in a very loud and animated tone, and lasted about ten minutes. I consoled myself with the thought that this annoyance would not occur often; but I soon found, to my grief, that no one who wishes to see a friend ever ascends to his room if the business can be transacted by shouting to him from below. When he does pluck up courage enough to climb the stairs, what a noise he makes on the way! Even the quiet men above me, who belong to the very small class that neither whistle nor sing in the entries, come down the stairs in five steps, and shake the building; and they're not as bad as the fellows who seem to dance a polka all the way down. I find I'm worse off this year than ever. Can you suggest any remedy? Is there a room where I can make a noise without disturbing other people, and where I shall not be disturbed by the noises that other people make?"

I was about to try to soothe his excitement, when a fresh expression of woe came over his face; a man was coming down stairs, five steps at a time, another was ascending to the tune of "Marching to Georgia," the Glee Club man below began a song, and the Sophomore above renewed his hornpipe. We seized our hats in silence, and fled to Adams's for refuge.