Are Harvard men, after all lean and worried and weasel-faced"? The national news-weekly. "Time," was rash enough to say so a fortnight ago and was hooted for its pains. But the question bobs up again.

Last week Mr. N. W. Fradd, director of physical education, announced a new class for the big men of the college. Yes, a fat man's class. The idea scanned well: Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 4 o'clock was not beyond the fattest of the fat, and from 6000 students a large turnout was expected.

Hence the first meeting was a surprise to Mr. Fradd. It was not necessary to adjourn to a larger hall. No milling herd of flesh waited to be divided into sections. No, they were easily taken care of all three of them.

So the physical department, puzzled, is seeking some keen observer who can chart and explain this sudden disappearance of high living, this rise of ascetic and meager lunches. The men at Hemenway wonder whether such a spectator is not even now writing a book on the subject. Its title, of course, will be "The Weigh of All Flesh."