Hampshire. The buildings have been carefully adjusted to future requirements with practically no cost to the state. The barracks have been converted into dormitories that house 160 men. The wing to Smith Hall has been utilized to double the capacity of that girls' dormitory. The capacity of the shops has been tripled. The piggery and poultry plant and cement walks are a lasting memorial to the practice labor of the construction units. The "Y" hut has been made into a combination

seats 3500 and a carefully drained fcotball gridiron circled by one of the best quarter-mile tracks in the country.

In some respects economy at the institution has been carried to the point where it is not truly economical. For instance, the congestion in the classrooms has made it absolutely necessary to curtail the laboratory instruction and to turn students into large lecture quarters, an inefficient procedure and one that must be only temporary.

of recitation room and faculty headquarters.

The important agricultural investigations of the Experiment Station. have been made almost entirely with federal funds; in fact, New Hampshire was one out of only three states in the Union until the last biennium not to provide state appropriations for this purpose. The far-reaching development of extension work, in similar fashion, has been conducted with a minimum of requests upon the state. And the expenditure of all funds is planned carefully by a budget system and scrupulously carried out with rigid economy by the Business Office, which, at the entrance to Thompson Hall, guards the institution like an impartial watch-dog.

One other source of aid to the institution should be mentioned, and that is the loyal body of alumni. Hardly greater in numbers than the present student body itself, these men. and women have recently. met the crying need for greater recreational space by contributing over $25,000 for the construction of a Memorial Athletic Field with a grandstand that

slightly increased propriation," says

"Aside from a maintenance ap

President Hetzel,

"we have only one plea to make to the present legislature; and that is to make possible the class room

construction of a building building which will put a a stop to this congestion which is so damaging to our educational work. We cannot afford to lower our standards of instruction even temporarily; and the need for action to prevent this cannot longer be staved off."

As soon as one compares the expense of New Hampshire's state college with the educational plants of the other states of the Union, the magnitude of the accomplishments at Durham may be better realized. The average part played by public funds in the support of all of the state colleges of the country is 72.8 per cent, whereas in New Hampshire the public funds amount to only 54.7 per cent. With the exception of one or two very heavily endowed institutions, this is the lowest in the country. On the other hand, New Hampshire exacts a larger tuition and fee charge for out-of-state students than

any other state college, while its charge to state students is only exceeded by one. In the majority of state colleges no tuition fee at all is required of residents.

In the face of these facts, the increasing demand on the part of New Hampshire's young men and women to share in the opportunities of a state educational plant can well be considered anew. New Hampshire College is not so much of a problem to the tax-payer as it is to the prospective student. Viewed in the

light of the popular response of other states to the movement for a higher education, the state has been asked for an absolute minimum of support. It is a conservative and safe statement that in no other commonwealth has the state received as much for the amount which it has put in. If state appropriations were bonds and increased education were divi

dends, then would the brokerage columns of our our newspapers quote "N. H. C." at the highest point above par.

N

one of the

EW England's discovery of winter is to be ranked as most beneficial discoveries of the last decade. Ten years ago one put away sleds and skates with other childish things and spent the months from November until March hibernating either in some warmer clime or huddled close beside the fire at home. Today there are not a few of us who get more real outdoor sport in January than in June.

On our desk as we write is a partial list of Winter Carnivals which have been held or which will be held in New England this winter. The list includes twenty-five events and is incomplete and tentative at

that. It is interesting to notice that of the twenty-five nearly one-half are in New Hampshire.

During January perhaps the most unique event was Manchester's carnival. This month all eyes are turned upon Dartmouth, whose celebration February 8-10 promises to be even better than in years past. Immediately following the sports at Dartmouth, Laconia will be the scene of the races of the New England Skating Association. Concord and Berlin are having their carnivals early in the month and undoubtedly other towns and cities will follow suit, either formally or informally, before the snow begins. to melt.

The editors regret that it has been necessary to postpone publication of the article on Manchester's growth by Miss Savacool, which was an

nounced for this issue. It will appear in the March issue of the GRANITE MONTHLY-and it's worth waiting for.

W

ITH a sudden premonitory whir, the sitting room clock struck nine. Bob Brownell started in his chair by the fire and arose, exhaling his breath sharply as he did so. He glanced around the room and a sly look came into his eyes.

"Why not help myself to a part of it before Mike comes?" he murmured. "He'll think Joshua sent it away at the last minute."

He pondered the matter awhile, breathing deeply. His eyes. rowed as he asked himself another question: "Why not all of it? I might as well be a whole hog as part."

Carefully he considered the proposition, glancing uneasily around the room as though he half-expected some eye was upon him. Finally he tiptoed across the room, took a box from the mantel-shelf, and opened it. He fumbled for a moment, then brought forth a key. Laying this on the table, he drew out a shapeless object object which gleamed redly in the light of the kerosene lamp. At first he stared. at this curiously, then as if fascinated. His breathing became audible and he ran his fingers through his hair with a nervous gesture. For perhaps ten minutes he stood there and stared at the shapeless object which lay in the palm of his trembling hand. At last, as if awaking from a trance, he replaced the article in the box, threw the key in after and put the receptacle back on the mantel.

"No," he ejaculated, "I'll not double-cross Mike. I hope I've got a little honor left. 'Honor among thieves.'" he soliloquized.

"Well, that's better than no honor at all. If it wasn't for Mike I'd give it up. Joshua's been good to me. And then that little. I wonder why he kept it? Did he-?"

He broke off suddenly and strode across the room to the front door. Placing two fingers in his mouth, he sounded a piercing whistle. A moment of waiting and an answering call came from somewhere in the darkness outside.

Bob stood in the doorway waiting. Although it was October, the night was not cold; yet he shivered. He shivered until his teeth clicked together as he stood in the doorway waiting. A full moon spread its light over the landscape and rendered far distant objects visible. Bob could plainly see the hay barn in the south meadow one-half mile away. There was a shadow on the north side as though the sun were shining.

Somehow the moon affected Bob curiously. He did not feel at all comfortable. A vague fear oppressed him. He tried to assume a blasè manner, but many disturbing thoughts came into his mind. One thought that persisted was of the shapeless object that he had just held in his hand and that had gleamed redly in the light of the kerosene lamp. He laughed nervously as he rolled a cigarette.

"Must be I'm moonstruck," he murmured. "I've heard of such things."

A shadow, which had detached itself from the woods below the garden, was coming up the road. The shadow speedily resolved itself into a man and entered the dooryard.

"All to the mustard, Bob?" "Yep, the coast is clear. Come along in."

The man entered the room and gazed about curiously. "Great night for our getaway," he growled harshly. "Where does the old boy keep his kale?"

The newcomer differed materially in appearance from the one who had admitted him. His red face, bull neck, projecting chin chin and shifty eyes indicated as plainly as his words that he was of the criminal type. A striped sweater and a cap added to the effect.

On the other hand, Bob presented the appearance of one who was a novice in crime. His meager seventeen years was evident, and the awe and admiration with which he regarded his companion could not be suppressed.

"They haven't been gone an hour," he said tremulously, "but I guess it's safe. They won't be back until midnight. Big supper with speaking and all that. It's our chance."

He tried to talk big, but his manner was not as confident as his words would indicate. "Do you suppose they can trail us, Mike?"

"Trail nothin'. These rubes around here don't know they're alive. Lead me to the filthy lucre."

"I'll get the key to his box. We don't want to take the box, do we, Mike?"

"Naw, we don't want the box, but we want the long green, pronto. Get the key."

"It's in the little wooden box on the mantel. He keeps all his keys there."

The youth crossed the room, took the key from the shelf and opened it. He picked out a key, then hesitated as his eyes were attracted by the other object within the receptale. A strange look came into

his eyes as he drew forth again a little red woolen mitten.

Bob Brownell stared at the mitten. It was old, frayed, and faded, but it fascinated him. Many thoughts coursed through his mind and the scroll of the last nine years of his life, which had started to unfold before the entrance of Mike, resumed the presentation of memory's pictures to his mental gaze. Mike coughed and shuffled his feet impatiently, but still the boy stood and looked at the little mitten while the dreamy look deepened in his eyes and his lip trembled.

Like lightning his mind ran back over the years that were gone. Vividly he recalled that bitter winter's day in wind-swept City Hall Park when Joshua Brownell had stopped to speak to him and then had offered him a home.

He recollected the long ride home from the station, over the squeaking snow and with now and then a rabbit darting from a bush and hopping away through the moonlight.

But mostly he remembered that first night around the comfortable kitchen fire after such a supper as he had never dreamed of before. His new friends had brought forth gifts: and greatest among them was a pair of gorgeous little red mittens. Before their beauty he had succumbed, and when he went to bed he wore them. He had slept with them. on his hands. And during the years that followed, he had never forgotten them.

Also his active mind recalled an overheard conversation of recent date that had both alarmed him and given rise to disturbing thoughts. This had transpired but the day before when Mrs. Brownell had held converse with her husband at

the breakfast table. The lad was supposed to have gone to the field, but in reality he lingered in the kitchen and heard all.

"Joshua, I don't like the way Bobby is acting lately," Mrs. Brownell had announced. "He's getting to be tough. He swears at the team dreadful and he associates with that Mike McGee, who was once in the reformatory. He seems to take to such company. I think he crawls out the window nights and goes away with Mike. And this morning I found a revolver under the straw-tick of his bed."

"What did you do with the gun, Martha?"

"Left it alone, of course. I dasn't touch it. What does he have it for and keep it hidden that way?"

"I'll have to look into the matter, Martha."

"I should say it's about time. I'm afraid you made a mistake in picking him up the way you didslam-bang, without any investigation. He's got bad blood in him, I'll bet. And the Bible says 'blood will tell.' He's older now than he was and it's beginning to crop out."

"No, Martha, the Bible doesn't say that. It says, however, that 'the way a twig is bent so will the tree be inclined." I know I took a big chance, picking him up that way, but he looked so much like our Bobby used to that I was just drawed to him. Maybe he's got bad blood-wouldn't wonder 'n he had-but we caught him young and have tried to to train him right. He'll get sick of the company of Mike after a while."

"It's risky, Joshua. I'm getting afraid of him. We hadn't ought to keep him any longer. I'm glad we didn't adopt him."

"Maybe you've been reading the same magazine article that I have,

Martha. The one by the eugenic chap. He said that no matter what the environment, bad blood would show itself that a boy with bad blood would be a bad man. Now that don't seem fair. A boy can't help how he is born. I'd just like to prove by Bobby that the writer chap is wrong; sometimes at least."

"I tell you it's risky, Joshuakeeping him any longer. That pesky Mike ain't putting any good ideas into his head."

"As for Mike," Joshua had resumed, "he's sort of a hero to Bobby. Boys naturally take to older boys who can tell big stories of what they've done. I happened on 'em-on Mike and Bobby-one day when they were fishing and Mike was telling the most goshawful story of how he made a monkey out of a constable on a certain occasion. It's hero worship, Martha. But let's give the boy another chance and make environment win this time."

And the next day-this day-at the dinner table, Joshua had announced: "Bobby, Mother and I are going to the Grange supper tonight and won't be back until about midnight. I wish you'd stay home. I've got that six hundred dollars of hay money in the house yet and I'm a little nervous about it; although I guess there's no danger. You won't be afraid to stay alone, will you?”

"Oh, no," he had promptly answered, "I'll be all right. Go ahead. I'll watch the house. I wasn't going out tonight anyhow." And now here he was at the parting of the ways.

"Well, fer de love of Pete!" growled Mike, "wot's der matter wid yer? Wotayer standin' there lookin' at dat old mitten fer? Froze to it? Throw me der key if yer can't move. I want ter git me hands on dem shekels."