"There is an interesting display of the natural products of Japan, and it is exceedingly instructive to a stranger. The Japanese are studying these things with great attention, and the fair will undoubtedly prove an excellent school for the people by adding to their stock of information about themselves. Each section bears over its entrance the name of the city, province, or district it represents, and as these names are displayed in English as well as in Japanese, a stranger has no difficulty in finding out the products of the different parts of the empire. The result is that many articles are repeated in the exhibition, and you meet with them again and again. Such, for example, are raw silks, which come from various localities, as likewise do articles of leather, wood, and iron. Porcelain of various kinds appears repeatedly, and so do the woods used for making furniture. There is an excellent show of porcelain, and some of the pieces are of enormous size. Kaga, Satsuma, Hizen, Kioto, Nagasaki, and other wares are in abundance, and a student of ceramics will find enough to interest him for many hours. "It has never been my fortune," the Doctor continued, "to be farther in a typhoon at sea than the outer edge, but that was quite as much as I wanted. One time on land I saw and felt one of these tempests; it drove ships from their moorings, swamped hundreds of boats, unroofed many houses, tore trees up by the roots, stripped others of their branches, threw down walls and fences, flooded the land, and caused a vast amount of havoc everywhere. Hundreds of people were drowned by the floods, and the traces of the storm will last for many years. The city that has suffered most by these storms is Calcutta. On two occasions the centre of a typhoon has passed over the harbor or within a few miles of it, and the whole shipping of the port was driven from its moorings and the greater part completely or partially wrecked." � � "Oh, sir, I must make it! I can ask no less!" � There was further delay. The bowler at the other end objected to the position of the Clockwork man. He argued, reasonably enough, that the non-participating batsman ought to stand quite clear of the wicket. The umpire had to be consulted, and, as a result of his decision, the Clockwork man was gently but firmly induced to move further away. He then remained, in the same attitude, at the extreme edge of the crease. His obtuseness was certainly remarkable, and comment among the spectators now became general and a trifle heated. II Meanwhile the brilliant society season was drawing to a close. Few smart functions remained, but there would be no more dashing affair than the forthcoming ball at Lytton Avenue. The supper was coming from Paris, the decorations were unique, the flowers were to cost upwards of a thousand pounds. The society papers had more or less veracious paragraphs, a score of lady journalists were making copy of the affair. � "That way, sir!" During the week of my compulsory stay in Louvain I had also the privilege of making the acquaintance of two brave compatriots; I mean Professor Noyons and his wife. Nor in his childhood, nor in youth, nor when � � � � � There was a swift drop of their own craft as Jeff dived, came into a good position and zoomed past the yacht, close to it. � � "You are too good for it." An old man and his wife appeared at the door; both of them shoved back their spectacles until they rested on the tops of their heads, and scanned him searchingly. The old woman had a law-book in her hand, and the old man a quill pen. She had evidently been reading to him, and he copying. � � � "Not for a thousand loives," groaned the Irishman. "Howly saints, fwhat is old Clootie after me for? Is it for atin' that little taste o' ham last Friday? Holy Mary, save me; there he is again!" � "I wasn't in no hurry," answered Si. "That was only regler marchin' gait." "Come into line to the left, there," commanded Si, in a low tone. "Deploy, one pace apart. Shorty, take the left out there in the bushes. Don't make no noise, step carefully, and don't shoot till I do." "I'm going to see whether there are any Yankees there," said the second voice in the rebel works. � � But she went to the Fair. All the same she was bitterly disappointed when the following year another boy was born. She sobbed into her pillow, and even Reuben's delight and little Richard's soft kicks against her breast, could not comfort her. In fact she felt secretly angry with Reuben for his joy. He did not think of her and what she wanted. He thought only of his dirty old farm, and that dreary, horrible Boarzell. � � � �