machine, a letter goes from Macao to Honolulu, in which, by
admirable texts and precepts, Ah Chun advises his family to live in
unity and harmony. As for himself, he is out of it all, and well
content. He has won to peace and repose. At times he chuckles and
rubs his hands, and his slant little black eyes twinkle merrily at
the thought of the funny world. For out of all his living and
philosophizing, that remains to him--the conviction that it is a
very funny world.



THE SHERIFF OF KONA



"You cannot escape liking the climate," Cudworth said, in reply to
my panegyric on the Kona coast. "I was a young fellow, just out of
college, when I came here eighteen years ago. I never went back,
except, of course, to visit. And I warn you, if you have some spot
dear to you on earth, not to linger here too long, else you will
find this dearer."

We had finished dinner, which had been served on the big lanai, the
one with a northerly exposure, though exposure is indeed a misnomer
in so delectable a climate.

The candles had been put out, and a slim, white-clad Japanese
slipped like a ghost through the silvery moonlight, presented us
with cigars, and faded away into the darkness of the bungalow. I
looked through a screen of banana and lehua trees, and down across