stood upon the stage--where he was entirely alone, his exhibition
requiring no assistants--he gazed through a loophole in the
curtain upon a very interesting array of faces. There were the
faces of many men and women of society, of students, of workers
in various fields of thought, and even of idlers in all fields of
thought; but there was not one which indicated a frivolous or
listless disposition. The owners of those faces had come to see
something, and they wished to see it.

For a quarter of an hour after the time announced for the
opening of the exhibition Loring peered through the hole in the
curtain, and then, although all the people he had expected had
not arrived, he felt it would not do for him to wait any longer.
The audience was composed of well-bred and courteous men and
women, but despite their polite self-restraint Loring could see
that some of them were getting tired of waiting. So, very
reluctantly, and feeling that further delay was impossible, he
raised the curtain and came forward on the stage.

Briefly he announced that the exhibition would open with some
fireworks he had brought from Corea. It was plain to see that
the statement that fireworks were about to be set off on a
theatre stage, by an amateur, had rather startled some of the
audience, and Loring hastened to explain that these were not
real fireworks, but that they were contrivances made of colored
glass, which were illuminated by the powerful lens of a lantern
which was placed out of sight, and while the apparent pyrotechnic
display would resemble fireworks of strange and grotesque
designs, it would be absolutely without danger. He brought out
some little bunches of bits of colored glass, hung them at some