Now that it is all over a few more cold crisp facts concerning Mr. Julian Lowell Coolidge's one-auditor-and-no-enrolled-student course come to light. The course, faithful readers will recall, was given the airy spaciousness of Harvard 4, where Professor Coolidge had plenty of room for forensic effects on the lecturer's platform, while the auditor took notes feverishly and otherwise played the role of a full class. One day, during a lecture, a minor luminary of the janitorial force appeared at the door, looked in cautiously, then advanced bodily, into the almost empty hall. "Hello," he called cheerily, "Where's Joe Jones, the head janitor?" "Just a minute, please!" said Professor Coolidge, and descended from the platform, steered the good man gently through the door, and could be heard civilly explained, in the hallway, that he was no authority on the whereabouts of Apted henchmen, but that he would tolerate under no circumstances the interruption of his classes by janitors for any purpose whatsoever. He returned and solemnly continued the lecture.

Another time the auditor found that he would be unable to attend the class at nine o'clock. A bit appalled by what might take place he called the professor and explained the situation. "Can you come at ten?" the professor asked. That suited the auditor perfectly. So at ten o'clock Mr. Coolidge held forth in Harvard 4.

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We are indebted to "Time" for the latest bit of Conant lore. The President, it seems, has been somewhat nostalgic for test tubes and the small of chlorophyll. The new job didn't offer the opportunities for diversion that the old one did. But Mrs. Conant solved the problem. The President has taken up painting to while away his spare moments.