Weihaiwei, Oct. 16—Years ago I used to mb the 12305 feet of Mount Fuji each year io sce a perfect sunrise over the sea. Little did I think as I took those rather strenuous pilgrimages that the day would come when I could see each morning a perfect sunrise from my bedroom window, from any convenient point in my garden, or, better still from a hilltop just now the sun rises with us at 7 am. (6 o'clock Shanghai time): the sea is smooth with a faint haze across the horizon, and the low sky-line is painted with a screen of pinks and Teds like scenes on the old-fashioned Christmas cards. Suddenly a spurt of light goes upwards, as the edge of a golden ball appears: it rises quickly and soon takes shape: but not always a regular shape, for the haze distorts it
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.