We owe our fair weather to that department of atmospheric activity called anticyclone by the weatherman. The anticyclone is an accumulation of air which has become colder than the air surrounding it. This accumulation oftener than not has an area near the center where the air is coldest. About this coldest area the air currents revolve in the direction of a clock's hands. And since this cold air is contracted and denser than its warmer environment it has a perpetual tendency to whirl outward from the center into this warmer environment. One comes to think, therefore, of the anticyclone as a huge pyramid of cold air moving slowly across the country from west to east and all the while melting down on all sides, like a plate of ice-cream, into the surrounding territory. It is such an immense accumulation that often while its head is reared over Montana the first shivers of its approach are beginning to be felt in Texas and Pennsylvania. It does not extend equally far, however, to the north and west of its head, which is really sometimes where its tail ought to be. That is, a long slope of increasing pressure and cold will sweep in a gentle gradient from Pennsylvania to Montana and will then decrease by a very steep gradient to the Pacific Coast. The anticyclone draws its power from the inexhaustible supplies of cold air from the upper levels. This air is very dry and accounts for the almost invariably clear skies of the anticyclone. In winter when the intensity of all the atmospheric activities is greatly increased, the anticyclone develops into the cold wave. The rapidly rising pressure rears its head and rushes along upon the heels of a storm like a vast tidal wave at sixty miles an hour, tumbling the mercury thirty, forty, fifty degrees. These cold waves first appear in the northwest. They cannot well originate over either ocean and a high-pressure area building up over the southern half of the country will not attain the sufficient degree of frigidity to earn the title, for even cold waves have been standardized by the Government. But although nearly all the cold waves choose Montana or the Dakotas as a base, they have at least two definite lines of action. Those which are born amid the mountains or on the great plains of Montana have a curious habit of bombarding the Texas coast before starting on their eastward march. It is not unusual for us to read of zero weather in the Panhandle and freezing on the Gulf while the mercury may still be standing as high as fifty in New York City.