May 9.
Tuesday, it might be remarked in passing, was the commencement of summer. It is of interest because it follows that the Spring race,'meeting, which has not yet ended is any rate this year somewhat misnamied, That," however, will " not worry: those who "have nearly finished the wild semiannual flutter on the ponies. They have a greater grief than the mere advent of sum= mer, for all those who did not hold the winning ticket in the Champions sweepstake have got to go back to work for another six months, until chill autumn again reseats the oddes of chanco in her throne. Somebody, somewhere, has already forecast that next month will be warm and damp. That type of prophecy is just as easy as that which enables. soothsayers to inform their clients that.it will be dark on Sunday night. But the harbingers of summer have already been noticed. The swallow has arrived—meaning, of course, the ornithological specimen and not the act of ingestion which is always hhete—and the note of the Indian cuckoo has "been heard in the land, It is noticed that summer came to Shanghai like a thief in the night for Tuesday was as unpleasant a day as could be wished for, on the cold side and somewhat damp. Wednesday was a little better, while yesterday was still more so. But despite the Chinese calendar, despite the swallow, despite the Indian cuckoo, this summer up to the present still remarkably springike.
That may mean much or nothing. But the time is surely coming when the great heat will descend upon this part of the world, when the oft-repeated phrase "It is not the Theat bub the humidity" will fall from a
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.