
FORE:When the English party met the train, the lady and one of the gentlemen suggested that they should stand at the side of the road, but Mr. Richardson urged his horse forward and said, "Come on; I have lived fourteen years in China, and know how to manage these people." He rode into the midst of the procession, and was followed by the other gentlemen, or partially so; the lady, in her terror, remained by the side of the road, as she had wished to do at the outset. The guards construed the movements of Mr. Richardson as a direct insult to their master, and fell upon him with their swords. The three men were severely wounded. Mr. Richardson died in less than half an hour, but the others recovered. The lady was not harmed in any way. On the one hand, the Japanese[Pg 160] were a proud, haughty race who resented an insult to their prince, and punished it according to Japanese law and custom. On the other, the foreigners had the technical right, in accordance with the treaty, to go upon the Tokaido; but they offered a direct insult to the people in whose country they were, and openly showed their contempt for them. A little forbearance, and a willingness to avoid trouble by refraining from visiting the Tokaido, as requested by the Japanese authorities, would have prevented the sad occurrence."How do you know which way to turn?" Frank asked; "it seems to me you are just as likely to run to the centre of the storm as to the circumference."

FORE:The junk was all ready in the morning; and as soon as the passengers were on board, her sail was lifted, and she slowly worked her way through the water. The wind was all right for the voyage to the mouth of the river where Osaka lay; and if they had been on a sail-boat such as all New-Yorkers are familiar with, the journey would have been over in three or four hours. But the junk was not built for racing purposes, and the most that could be hoped for from her was a speed of about three miles an hour. This was no detriment, as they could thus make the mouth of the river by noon; and if the bar could be easily crossed, they would be at the city long before sunset. Life on a junk was a novelty, and therefore they were not annoyed to think that their craft was not a swift one.

FORE:Rose Lomas came slowly over the top of the hill. She was hatless, and her short, curly hair blew about her face, for a slight breeze had sprung up in the wake of the sunset. She wore a navy blue jacket over a white muslin blouse with a deep V at the breast. There was a fair stretch of plump leg, stockinged in black cashmere, between the edge of her dark skirt and the beginning of the tall boots that had taken so long to button up. She walked with her chin tilted upwards and her eyes half closed, and her hands were thrust into the slanting pockets of her jacket.

FORE:"Good-bye, New Orleans soldier-boy," she said, gaily, and as I raised my cap she gave herself a fetching air and added, "I'll wager I know your name."It dawned faintly and vaguely on Mrs Keelings mind, as on summits remote from where she transacted her ordinary mental processes, that her husband did not quite mean what he said about that county-courting. Possibly there lurked in those truculent remarks some recondite sort of humour.
“I love Oleose, I highly recommend it, Everyone Try It Now”
- Krin Fox