In the palmy days, East Hall was a gaunt structure of a sombre brown color, the well-littered entrance leading across the hall to the stairway. For then one mounted not at the ends of the hall, but by a sumptuous escalier in the middle part. The stairs were hollow from many footsteps, and four-fifths of the balustrade had long since disappeared, a prey to the coal hods full of ashes dropped from the third story -in the "palmy days " you had to "lug" coal up from the cellar and ashes were most expeditiously emptied by dropping the coal hod full down the cell of the stairway. Filling and cleaning the kerosene-oil lamps also was a task for the roomers; for rest assured that the "care-taker " did not do it.

In the basement was a long hall on the north side-the" Dive " - chiefly of value as a solace for hungry stomachs in the late hours. The rest of the basement and some rooms on the first floor were occupied by " kitchen mechanics."

There were no proctors in those days. Generally speaking, Freshmen predominated in East Hall; still, there were upperclassmen, and even graduate students -a source of awe. The occupants of the small rooms at the ends of the halls, men of brawn, by courtesy called "students," sleeping here during the football and baseball seasons, should not be omitted. Their names were never called in the classroom roll; thank heaven, that feature has long since been a thing of the past.

Yet life was not all beer and skittles in East Hall; men of intelligence, vigor, and high ideals were formed in those dingy walls. Many a time the talk has drifted on to the small hours of the night, and high conceptions of manhood and honor were enunciated by youthful lips, and the middle age of many a one of them has not belied their East Hall dreams.

C. St. C. W.