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 in letters so large as to take up the whole space; “Professor Tempura.” The boys all glanced at my face and made merry hee-haws at my cost. It was so absurd that I asked them if it was in any way funny for me to eat tempura noodle. Thereupon one of them said,–“But four bowls is too much.” What did they care if I ate four bowls or five as long as I paid it with my own money,–and speedily finishing up my class, I returned to the teachers’ room. After ten minutes’ recess, I went to the next class, and there on the black board was newly written quite as large as before; “Four bowls of tempura noodles, but don’t laugh.”

The first one did not arouse any ill-temper in me, but this time it made me feel irritating mad. A joke carried too far becomes mischievous. It is like the undue jealousy of some women who, like coal, look black and suggest flames. Nobody likes it. These country simpletons, unable to differentiate upon so delicate a boundary, would