Tens of thousands viewed the glories of the Fair with interest and awe. Its magnitude appalled them. They could not remember one thousandth part of what they saw. A sense of heaviness came upon mind and body. This was too much like work, and they had come here for a holiday. Hence, about two or three in the afternoon, they could be seen entering the wonderful Street of Nations in squads, most of them to remain until nine or ten in the evening. Here they found relief; here light and gayety and good cheer abounded. Very, very many who haunted these grounds, over which an indescribable charm forever rested, were people of good taste and education. They found here the balm in Gilead, the peace of mind that was denied them in the whirl of Machinery Hall or the endless displays in the Liberal Arts. And so from one cause or another the Midway always carried its great crowd every afternoon and evening; the fakirs rattled the dry bones and shouted themselves hoarse in endeavoring to draw the shekels out of pockets that were only too willing; the bazaars glittered with their tinsel and chaff; and over the whole scene was spread a glamour the like of which was never before known on American soil; all the ancient countries of the world bringing their gew gaws and costumes and ways of living, to spread them out to the gaze of the youngest nation on earth, the giant of the West. The Canadian and his friend seat themselves at a table where they can see this shifting panorama, and order supper. Near by rises the great Ferris wheel, now ablaze with electric fires, and revolving on its axis with steady “clank, clank, clank, clank.” Looking up at its tremendous dimensions, Aleck finds it hard to believe what strange things have occurred to him since he took his memorable ride two nights previous. It all passes in review before his mental vision like a dream, and yet he has much cause for feeling cheerful. At that time he was searching for somebody, with a hope that daily grew less--now he has found the object of his pursuit, and uncertainty has given way to definite hope. Wycherley is as merry as ever. His fortunes have taken a sudden turn since the time he and Aleck met with their adventures in this same Midway, and one would hardly recognize the man in his neat business suit. It is doubtful whether Claude is lighter of heart than before. Now cares have come to bring lines upon his face, responsibility will be apt to sober him down a little. With some men, light of pocket means light of heart; fill their purse and you bring corroding care, anxiety, fear of robbery, and the kindred evils which in their needy state they never knew. “You’ve arranged business with Mr. Cereal, I believe you said, Wycherley,” remarks Aleck, as, having finished their light repast, they buy the waiter body and soul with a fee, and then proceed to enjoy a cigar while watching the endless procession stroll by.