AFTER suffering in silence from the cold at prayers for two days, we instructed our reporters to ascertain exactly how cold it was; and accordingly, on Wednesday, two of them gave us the following results. One of them, in a comparatively secluded corner, found his thermometer had fallen to 42, and as yet showed no intention of remaining fixed; the other, in a more exposed situation, yet not more exposed than that occupied by most of the two upper classes, recorded a temperature of 36. Under such circumstances as these, we should like to ask those of our government who support prayers, what object there is in compelling attendance. The proper authorities have expressed their conviction, based on experiment, that prayers are not necessary for the discipline of the college; the other grounds for maintaining them are religious. How much devotion is conceivable in students sitting in a chapel where the temperature is 36, and where continual draughts of much colder air are pouring over them? Praying in such cold as this is unparalleled even in the asceticism of the Middle Ages.

Of course it will be said that Wednesday was an extremely cold day, and that we only stay in chapel for a few minutes; but we have had, and will have again, days just as cold, and fifteen minutes is amply sufficient to give a cold that will last for weeks. Perhaps it is not too much to ask that some professor in favor of prayers should take the trouble to explain what other reasons there are for supporting them.