A FKOSTY MOENING 



THEEE is nothing like weather. It is man's com- 

 fort and his misery ; more important still, per- 

 haps, it is his prosperity and his ruin. Indeed, 

 it has almost divine prerogatives. It wounds and 

 it heals ; it kills and it makes alive. And this, 

 which in good degree is true everywhere, is espe- 

 cially true in a country like southern Florida, 

 the Mecca at once of pleasure-seeking winter 

 vacationers, health-seeking tourists, and liveli- 

 hood-seeking settlers. For all these, Florida is 

 what it is because of its climate, that is to say, 

 its weather. Speak with whom you will, weather 

 is the topic that naturally comes uppermost. 



Yesterday (January 22) was one of the most 

 delightful days imaginable ; for a pedestrian, I 

 mean to say. I know an insect collector, a gentle 

 soul, little used to complaining against the order 

 of the world, who pronounced it " horrid." For 

 the successful prosecution of her industry there 

 lacked a few degrees of warmth. Florida insects, 

 it appears, are much less hardy than their North- 

 ern cousins, keeping indoors, and so out of the 

 net, in temperature such as a Yankee butterfly 



