"My young friend, I suppose you have read that the world was made in six days. Now, do you mean to tell me that, if this whole world was made in six days, you can't get together the few things you need in four?" [Illustration: Gifu, Japan, after the Earthquake of 1891. _This and the pictures following on pages 89, 101, 111, are from Japanese photographs reproduced in "The Great Earthquake in Japan, 1891," by John Milne and W. K. Burton._] And Milne sailed the next Tuesday to begin his lifework among the rough hills of Newfoundland. Then came an offer from the Japanese Government, and he went to the land of earthquakes, little dreaming that he would one day be the greatest authority in the world on the subject of seismic disturbances. His first experiments--and they were made as a pastime rather than a serious undertaking--were curiously simple. He set up rows of pins in a certain way, so that in falling they would give some indication as to the wave movements in the earth. He also made pendulums made of strings with weights tied at the end, and from his discoveries made with these elementary instruments, he planned earthquake-proof houses, and showed the engineers of Japan how to build bridges which would not fall down when they were shaken. So highly was his work regarded that the Japanese made him an earthquake professor at Tokio and supplied him with the means for making more extended experiments. And presently we find him producing artificial earthquakes by the score. He buried dynamite deep in the ground and exploded it by means of an electric button. The miniature earthquake thus produced was carefully measured with curious instruments of Professor Milne's invention. At first one earthquake was enough at any one time, but as the experiments continued, Professor Milne sometimes had five or six earthquakes all quaking together; and once so interested did he become that he forgot all about the destructive nature of earthquakes, and ventured too near. A ton or more of earth came crashing down around him, half burying him and smashing his instruments flat. All this made the Japanese rub their eyes with astonishment, and by and by the Emperor heard of it. Of course he was deeply interested in earthquakes, because there was no telling when one might come along and shake down his palace over his head. So he sent for Professor Milne, and, after assuring himself that these experimental earthquakes really had no serious intentions, he commanded that one be produced on the spot. So Professor Milne laid out a number of toy towns and villages and hills in the palace yard with a tremendous toy earthquake underneath. The Emperor and his gayly dressed followers stood well off to one side, and when Professor Milne gave the word the Emperor solemnly pressed a button, and watched with the greatest delight the curious way in which the toy cities were quaked to earth. And after that, this surprising Englishman, who could make earthquakes as easily