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"Why not?" Gregg sat down on the couch and twisted his hat idly between his fingers.

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"I said next week," explained the other, "in order to make my meaning clear. Actually, of course, I don't describe time in such arbitrary terms. But when one is in Rome, you know. What I mean to convey is that I am capable of going not only somewhere, but also somewhen.""Deserters, I don't doubt!" was my comment to the ladies. Tongue revenge is poor, but it is something.One of the most interesting street sights of their first day in Pekin was a procession carrying a dragon made of bamboo covered with painted paper. There was a great noise of tom-toms and drums to give warning of the approach of the procession, and there was the usual rabble of small boys that precedes similar festivities everywhere. The dragon was carried by five men, who held him aloft on sticks that also served to give his body an undulating motion in imitation of life. He was not pretty to look upon, and his head seemed too large for his body. The Chinese idea of the dragon is, that he is something very hideous, and they certainly succeed in representing their conception of him. Dr. Bronson explained that the dragon was frequently carried in procession at night, and on these occasions the hollow body was illuminated, so that it was more hideous, if possible, than in the daytime.
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THREE:For hundreds of years Japan has been famous for its productions of porcelain of various kinds, from the tiny cup no larger than a lady's thimble to the elaborately decorated vase with a capacity of many gallons. Each province of Japan has its peculiar product, and sometimes one is in fashion, and sometimes another. For the last few years the favor has turned in the direction of Satsuma ware, which has commanded enormous figures, especially for the antique pieces. So great was the demand for old Satsuma that a good many manufacturers turned their attention to its production. They offer to make it to any amount, just as the wine-dealers in New York can accommodate a customer with wine of any vintage he requires, if he will only give them time enough to put on the proper labels. It is proper to say, on behalf of the Japanese, that they learned this trick from the foreigners; and their natural shrewdness has taught them to improve upon the lesson, so that in some instances they have actually sold to their instructors new ware for old, and convinced the purchasers of its genuineness.As I say, I slept. The door between me and the hall had a lock, but no key; another door, letting from my room to the room in front of it, had no lock, but was bolted. I slept heavily and for an hour or more. Then I was aware of something being moved--slowly--slyly--by littles--under my pillow. The pillow was in a case of new unbleached cotton. When I first lay down, the cotton had so smelt of its newness that I thought it was enough, of itself, to keep me awake. Now this odor was veiled by another; a delicate perfume; a perfume I knew, and which brought again to me all the incidents of the night, and all their woe. I looked, and there, so close to the bedside that she could see my eyes as plainly as I saw hers, stood Coralie Rothvelt. In the door that opened into the hall were two young officers, staff swells, in the handsomest Federal blue. The moonlight lay in a broad flood between them and me. It silvered Miss Rothvelt from the crown of her hat to the floor, and brightened the earnest animation of her lovely face as she daintily tiptoed backward with one hand delicately poised in the air behind her, and the other still in the last pose of withdrawing from under the pillow--empty!

By Elena Smith

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"You'll be the first prisoner I ever shot if you get any funnier!"I sat on the edge of the bed, in the moonlight, wishing I knew what their way was. I considered my small stock of facts. The one that appalled me most was the inward guilt which I brought with me to this ordeal. I wanted to say my childhood prayers and I could not. For I could not repent; at least the emotion of repentance would not come. Moreover, every now and then there leapt across this blackness of guilt a forked lightning of fright, as I realized that I could no more plan than I could pray. No doubt Coralie Rothvelt, by this time in Fayette, was telling some Federal commander that a certain Confederate courier, now asleep at the house of Lucius Oliver, had let slip to her the fact that his despatches were written to be captured, and that, read with that knowledge, they would be of guiding value. What mine host himself might have in view for me I could not guess, but most likely those three rapscallions down at the quarters were already plotting my murder. So now for a counterplot--alas! the counterplot would not unfold for me![Pg 26]"As the ship left the harbor, and went outside to the open Atlantic, she encountered a heavy sea. It was so rough that the majority of the passengers disappeared below. I didn't suffer in the least, and didn't go to the cabin for two or three hours. There I found that my new friend was in his bed with the very malady he had predicted for me."
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