SLIGHTLY COLDER

There exists a local phenomenon appearing annually at this season that is known to the natives as changeable weather. Properly it is one with the subject that has been ostrasized conversationally since Mark Twain pronounced that dictum that people have no right to complain when they never do anything about it. Still it insists on attracting attention because each year in the opinion of experienced observers it far exceeds any previous performances. And it is impossible to minimize the importance of a fact upon which comparative strangers are eager to give information at the least encouragement. For the persistency with which it is discussed is a testimony that here is the one factor in daily life that is always of unexceptioal subjective interest.

This affliction has been coincident with the glad Christmas festival since the latter observance arrogated so much time to itself, and it is greeted with a succession of gutterals even in those class rooms where the practise is frowned upon. Its debilitating influence on colds makes the catching of them merely nominal. In reality they lie at one's feet for the making. Now an open window means an absorbing flow of mucus. Wet feet provoke an interesting condition wherein the brain becomes remote from the sensual world, an aching entity in which the weariest efforts of the will can not arouse a thought. And it is suggested that if make them the principal subject of con-efforts of the will can not arouse a versation, these attempts of the weather to excite interest with excess and variations, can be discouraged.