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THE LADY OF THE DECORATION
By Frances Little
To All Good Sisters, And To Mine In Particular
THE LADY OF THE DECORATION
SAN FRANCISCO, July 30, 1901.
My dearest Mate:
Behold a soldier on the eve of battle! I am writing this in a stuffy
little hotel room and I don't dare stop whistling for a minute. You
could cover my courage with a postage stamp. In the morning I sail for
the Flowery Kingdom, and if the roses are waiting to strew my path it
is more than they have done here for the past few years. When the
train pulled out from home and I saw that crowd of loving, tearful
faces fading away, I believe that for a few moments I realized the
actual bitterness of death! I was leaving everything that was dear to
me on earth, and going out into the dark unknown, alone.
Of course it's for the best, the disagreeable always is. You are
responsible, my beloved cousin, and the consequences be on your
head. You thought my salvation lay in leaving Kentucky and seeking my
fortune in strange lands. Your tender sensibilities shrank from having
me exposed to the world as a young widow who is not sorry. So you
"shipped me some-wheres East of Suez" and tied me up with a four
years' contract.
But, honor bright, Mate, I don't believe in your heart you can blame
me for not being sorry! I stuck it out to the last,--faced neglect,
humiliations, and days and nights of anguish, almost losing my
self-respect in my effort to fulfil my duty. But when death suddenly
put an end to it all, God alone knows what a relief it was! And how
curiously it has all turned out! First my taking the Kindergarten
course just to please you, and to keep my mind off things that ought
not to have been. Then my sudden release from bondage, and the
dreadful manner of it, my awkward position, my dependence,--and in the
midst of it all this sudden offer to go to Japan and teach in a
Mission school!
Isn't it ridiculous, Mate? Was there ever anything so absurd as my lot
being cast with a band of missionaries? I, who have never missed a
Kentucky Derby since I was old enough to know a bay from a sorrel! I
guess old Sister Fate doesn't want me to be a one part star. For
eighteen years I played pure comedy, then tragedy for seven, and now I
am cast for a character part.
Nobody will ever know what it cost me to come! All of them were so
terribly opposed to it, but it seems to me that I have spent my entire
life going against the wishes of my family. Yet I would lay down my
life for any one of them. How they have stood by me and loved me
through all my blind blunders. I'd back my mistakes against anybody
else's in the world!
Then Mate there was Jack. You know how it has always been with
Jack. When I was a little girl, on up to the time I was married, after
that he never even looked it, but just stood by me and helped me like
a brick. If it hadn't been for you and for him I should have put an
end to myself long ago. But now that I am free, Jack has begun right
where he left off seven years ago. It is all worse than useless; I am
everlastingly through with love and sentiment. Of course we all know
that Jack is the salt of the earth, and it nearly kills me to give him
pain, but he will get over it, they always do, and I would rather for
him to convalesce without me than with me. I made him promise not to
write me a line, and he just looked at me in that quiet, quizzical way
and said: "All right, but you just remember that I'm waiting, until
you are ready to begin life over again with me."
Why it would be a death blow to all his hopes if he married me! My
widow's mite consists of a wrecked life, a few debts, and a worldly
notion that a brilliant young doctor like himself has no right to
throw away all his chances in order to establish a small hospital for
incurable children. Whenever I think of his giving up that
long-cherished dream of studying in Germany, and buying ground for the
hospital instead, I just gnash my teeth.
Oh! I know that you think it is grand and noble and that I am horrid
to feel as I do. Maybe I am. At any rate you will acknowledge that I
have done the right thing for once in coming away. I seem to have been
a general blot on the landscape, and with your help I have erased
myself. In the meanwhile, I wish to Heaven my heart would ossify!
The sole power that keeps me going now is your belief in me. You have
always claimed that I was worth something, in spite of the fact that I
have persistently proven that I was not. Don't you shudder at the
risk you are taking? Think of the responsibility of standing for me in
a Board of Missions! I'll stay bottled up as tight as I know how, but
suppose the cork _should_ fly?
Poor Mate, the Lord was unkind when he gave me to you for a cousin.
Well it's done, and by the time you get this I will probably be well
on my sea-sick way. I can't trust myself to send any messages to the
family. I don't even dare send my love to you. I am a soldier lady,
and I salute my officer.
ON SHIP-BOARD. August 8th, 1901.
It's so windy that I can scarcely hold the paper down but I'll make
the effort. The first night I came aboard, I had everything to
myself. There were eighty cabin passengers and I was the only lady on
deck. It was very rough but I stayed up as long as I could. The blue
devils were swarming so thick around me that I didn't want to fight
them in the close quarters of my state-room. But at last I had to go
below, and the night that followed was a terror. Such a storm raged as
I had never dreamed of, the ship rocked and groaned, and the water
dashed against the port-holes; my bag played tag with my shoes, and my
trunk ran around the room like a rat hunting for its hole. Overhead
the shouts of the captain could be heard above the answering shouts of
the sailors, and men and women hurried panic-stricken through the
passage.
Through it all I lay in the upper berth and recalled all the unhappy
nights of the past seven years; disappointment, heartache,
disillusionment, disgust; they followed each other in silent
review. Every tender memory and early sentiment that might have
lingered in my heart was ruthlessly murdered by some stronger memory
of pain. The storm without was nothing to the storm within, I felt
indifferent as to the fate of the vessel. If she floated or if she
sank, it was one and the same to me.
When morning came something had happened to me. I don't know what it
was, but my past somehow seemed to belong to someone else. I had taken
a last farewell of all the old burdens, and I was a new person in a
new world.
I put on my prettiest cap and my long coat and went up on deck. Oh, my
dear, if you could only have seen the sight that greeted me! It was
the limpest, sickest crowd I ever encountered! They were pea-green
with a dash of yellow, and a streak of black under their eyes, pale
around the lips and weak in their knees. There was only one other
woman besides myself who was not sick, and she was a missionary with
short hair, and a big nose. She was going around with some tracts
asking everybody if they were Christians. Just as I came up she
tackled a big, dejected looking foreigner who was huddled in a corner.
"Brother, are you a Christian?"
"No, no," he muttered impatiently. "I'm a Norwegian."
Now what that man needed was a cocktail, but it was not for me to
suggest it.
At table I am in a corner with three nice old gentlemen and one young
German. They are great on story-telling, and I've told all of mine,
most of yours and some I invented. One of the old gentlemen is a
missionary; when he found that I was distantly connected with the fold
he immediately called me "Dear Sister". If I were at home I should
call him "Dear Pa", but I am on my good behavior.
The eating is fairly good, only sometimes it is so hot with curry and
spice that it nearly takes my breath. My little Chinese waiter is
entirely too solicitous for my comfort. No amount of argument will
induce him to leave my plate until I have finished, after a few
mouthfuls he whisks it away and brings me another relay. After
pressing upon me dishes of every kind, he insists on my filling up all
crevices with nuts and raisins, and after I have eaten, and eaten, he
looks hurt, and says regretfully: "Missy sickee, no eatee."
There is one other person, who is just as solicitous. The little
German watches my every mouthful with round solemn eyes, and insists
upon serving everything to me. He looks bewildered when anyone tells a
funny story, and sometimes asks for an explanation. He has been
around the world twice, and is now going to China for three years for
the Society of Scientific Research. He seems to think I am the
greatest curio he has yet encountered in his travels.
The chief excitement of our trip so far has been the day in
Honolulu. I wanted to sing for joy when we sighted land. The trees and
grass never looked so beautiful as they did that morning in the
brilliant sunshine. It took us hours to land on account of the red
tape that had to be unwound, and then there was an extra delay of
which I was the innocent cause. The quarantine doctor was inspecting
the ship, and after I had watched him examine the emigrants, and had
gotten my feelings wrought up over the poor miserable little children
swarming below, I found a nice quiet nook on the shelter deck where I
snuggled down and amused myself watching the native boys swim. The
water on their bronze bodies made them shine in the sunlight, and they
played about like a shoal of young porpoises. I must have stayed there
an hour, for when I came down there was considerable stir on board. A
passenger was missing and we were being held while a search of the
ship was made. I was getting most excited when the purser, who is the
sternest and best looking man you ever saw, came up and pounced upon
me. "Have you been inspected?" he demanded, eyeing me from head to
foot. "Not any more than at present," I answered meekly. "Come with
me," he said.
I asked him if he was going to throw me overboard, but he was too full
of importance to smile. He handed me over to the doctor saying: "Here
is the young woman that caused the delay." Young woman, indeed! but I
was to be crushed yet further for the doctor looked over his glasses
and said: "Now how did we miss that?"
But on to Honolulu! I don't wonder people go wild over it. It is as if
all the artists in all the world had spilled their colors over one
spot, and Nature had sorted them out at her own sweet will. I kept
wondering if I had died and gone to Heaven! Marvelous palms, and
tropical plants, and all hanging in a softly dreaming silence that
went to my head like wine.
I started out to see the city, with two old ladies and a girl from
South Dakota, but Dear Pa and Little Germany joined the party. Oh!
Mate how I longed for you! I wanted to tie all those frousy old freaks
up in a hard knot and pitch them into the sea! The girl from South
Dakota is a little better than the rest, but she wears a jersey!
There _are_ real tailor-made people on board, but I don't dare
associate with them. They play bridge most of the time and if I
hesitated near them I'd be lost. I'll play my part, never fear, but I
hereby swear that I will not dress it!
STILL ON BOARD. August 18th.
Dear Mate:
I am writing this in my berth with the curtains drawn. No I am not a
bit sea-sick, just popular. One of the old ladies is teaching me to
knit, the short-haired missionary reads aloud to me, the girl from
South Dakota keeps my feet covered up, and Dear Pa and Little Germany
assist me to eat.
The captain has had a big bathing tank rigged up for the ladies, and I
take a cold plunge every morning. It makes me think of our old days at
the cottage up at the Cape. Didn't we have a royal time that summer
and weren't we young and foolish? It was the last good time I had for
many a long day--but there, none of that!
Last night I had an adventure, at least it was next door to one. I was
sitting up on deck when Dear Pa came by and asked me to walk with him.
After several rounds we sat down on the pilot house steps. The moon
was as big as a wagon wheel and the whole sea flooded with silver,
while the flying fishes played hide and seek in the shadows. I forgot
all about Dear Pa and was doing a lot of thinking on my own account
when he leaned over and said:
"I hope you don't mind talking to me. I am very, very lonely." Now I
thought I recognized a grave symptom, and when he began to tell me
about his dear departed, I knew it was time to be going.
"You have passed through it," he said. "You can sympathize."
I crossed my fingers in the dark. "We are both seeking a life work in
a foreign field--" he began again, but just here the purser passed. He
almost stumbled over us in the dark and when he saw me and my elderly
friend, he actually smiled!
Don't you dare tell Jack about this, I should never hear the last of
it.
Can you realize that I am three whole weeks from home? I do, every
second of it. Sometimes when I stop to think what I am doing my heart
almost bursts! But then I am so used to the heartache that I might be
lonesome without it; who knows?
If I can only do what is expected of me, if I can only pick up the
pieces of this smashed-up life of mine and patch them into a decent
whole that you will not be ashamed of, then I will be content.
The first foreign word I have learned is "Alohaoe", I think it means
"my dearest love to you." Any how I send it laden with the tenderest
meaning. God bless and keep you all, and bring me back to you a wiser
and a gladder woman.
KOBE. August 18th, 1901.
Actually in Japan! I can scarcely believe it, even with all this
strange life going on about me. This morning a launch came out to the
steamer bringing Miss Lessing and Miss Dixon, the two missionaries in
whose school I am to work. When I saw them, I must confess that my
heart went down in my boots! Theirs must have done the same thing, for
we stood looking at each other as awkwardly as if we belonged to
different planets. The difference began with our heels and extended
right on up to the crown of our hats. Even the language we spoke
seemed different, and when I faced the prospect of living with such
utter strangers, I wanted to jump overboard!
My fellow passengers suddenly became very dear, I clung to everything
about that old steamer as the last link that bound me to America.
As we came down the gang plank, I was introduced to "Brother Mason"
and "Brother White", and we all came ashore together. I felt for all
the world like a convict sentenced to four years in the
penitentiary. When we reached the Hotel, I fled to my room and flung
myself on the bed. I knew I might as well have it out. I cried for two
hours and thirty-five minutes, then I got up and washed my face and
looked out of the window.
It was all so strange and picturesque that I got interested before I
knew it. By and by Miss Lessing came in. Now that her hat was off I
saw that she had a very sweet face with pretty dark hair and a funny
little twinkle behind her eyes that made me think of you. She told me
how she had come out to Japan when she was a young girl, and how she
had built up the school, and all she longed to do for it. Then she
said, "Your coming seems like the direct answer to prayer. It has been
one of my dearest dreams to have a Kindergarten for the little ones,
it just seems too good to be true!" And she looked at me out of her
nice shining eyes with such gratitude and enthusiasm that I was
ashamed of what I had felt.
After that Miss Dixon came up and they sat and watched me unpack my
trunk. It took me about two minutes to find out that they were just
like other women, fond of finery and pretty things and eager for news
of the outside world. They examined all the dainty under clothes that
sister had made for me, they marvelled over the high heeled slippers,
and laughed at the big sleeves.
"Where are you going to wear all these lovely things?" asked Miss
Dixon. And again my heart sank, for even my simple wardrobe, planned
for the exigencies of school life, seemed strangely extravagant and
out of place.
But I want to say right now, Mate, that if I stay here a thousand
years I'll never come to jerseys and eight-year-old hats! I am going
to subscribe to a good fashion paper, and at least keep within hailing
distance of the styles.
It is too warm to go down to the school yet so we are to spend a week
in the mountains before we start in for the fall term.
Dear Pa and Little Germany have been here twice in three hours but I
saw them first.
Home letters will not arrive until next week, and I can scarcely wait
for the time to come. I keep thinking that I am away on a visit and
that I will be going back soon. I find myself saving things to show
you, and even starting to buy things to bring home. I have a good deal
to learn, haven't I?
HIEISAN. August 28th, 1901
Fairy-land, real true fairy-land that we used to talk about up in the
old cherry-tree at grandmother's! It's all so, Mate, only more
bewitching than we ever dreamed.
I have been in little villages that dropped right out of a picture
book. The streets are full of queer, small people who run about
smiling, and bowing and saying pretty things to each other. It is a
land where everybody seems to be happy, and where politeness is the
first commandment.
Yesterday we came up the mountains in jinrikishas. The road was
narrow, but smooth, and for over three hours the men trotted along,
never halting or changing their gait until we stopped for lunch.
There is not much to a Japanese house but a roof and a lot of bamboo
poles, but everything is beautifully clean. Before we had gotten down,
several men and women came running out and bowing and calling "Ohayo,
Ohayo" which means "good-morning." They ran for cushions and we were
glad enough to sit on the low benches and stretch ourselves. Then they
brought us delicious tea, and gathered around to see us drink it. It
seems that light hair is a great curiosity over here, and mine proved
so interesting that they motioned for me to take off my hat, and then
they stood around chattering and laughing at a great rate. Miss
Lessing said they wanted me to take my hair down, but would not ask it
because of the beautiful arrangement. Shades of Blondes! I wish you
could have seen it! But you _have_ seen it after a hard set of
tennis.
When we had rested an hour, and drunk tea, and bowed and smiled, we
started out again, this time in a kind of Sedan chair, made of bamboo
and carried on a long pole on the shoulders of two men. Now I have
been up steep places but that trip beat anything I ever saw! I felt
like a fly on a bald man's head! We climbed up, up, up, sometimes
through woods that were so dense you could scarcely know it was
day-time, and again through stretches of dazzling sunshine.
Just as I was beginning to wonder what had become of our luggage, we
passed four women laughing and singing. Two of them had steamer
trunks on their heads, and two carried huge kori. They did not seem to
mind it in the least, and bowed and smiled us out of sight.
Another two hours' climb brought us to this village of camps called
Hieisan. There are about forty Americans here, who are camping out
for the summer, and I am the guest of a Dr. Waring and his wife from
Alabama.
My tent is high above everything, on a great overhanging rock, and
before me is a view that would be a fit setting for Paradise. This
mountain is sacred to Buddha, and the whole of it is thick with
temples and shrines, some of them nobody knows how old.
I have been trying to muster courage to get up at three o'clock in the
morning to see the monkeys come out for breakfast. The mountains are
full of them, but they are only to be seen at that hour.
There are some very pleasant people here, and I have made a number of
friends. I am something of a conundrum, and curiosity is rife as to
_why_ I came. Mrs. Waring dresses me up and shows me off like a
new doll, and the women consult me about making over their clothes.
I don't know why I am not perfectly miserable. The truth is, Mate, I
am having a good time! It's nice to be petted and treated like a
child. It is good to be among plain, honest people, that live out
doors, and have healthy bodies and minds.
I want to forget all that I learned about the world in the past seven
years. I want to begin life again as a girl with a few illusions,
even if they are borrowed ones. I know too much for my years and I'm
determined to forget.
The home letters were heavenly. I've read them limber. I'll answer
the rest to-morrow.
HIROSHIMA. Sept. 2nd, 1901.
At last after my wanderings I am settled for the winter. The school is
a big structure, open and airy, and I have a nice room facing the east
where you dear ones are. On two sides tower the mountains, and between
them lies the magical Inland Sea. This is a great naval and military
station, and while I write I can hear the bugle calls from the parade
grounds.
I have a pretty little maid to wait on me and I wish you could see us
talking to each other. She comes in, bows until her head touches the
floor and hopes that my honorable ears and eyes and teeth are well. I
tell her in plain English that I am feeling bully, then we both
laugh. She is delighted with all my things, and touches them softly
saying over and over: "It's mine to care for!"
There are between four and five hundred girls in the school and, until
I get more familiar with the language, I am to work with the older
girls who understand some English. You would smile to see their
curiosity concerning me. They think my waist is very funny and they
measure it with their hands and laugh aloud. One girl asked me in all
seriousness why I had had pieces cut out of my sides, and another
wanted to know if my hair used to be black. You see in all this big
city I am the only person with golden tresses, and a green carnation
would not excite more comment.
Yesterday we went shopping to get some curtains for my room. Such a
crowd followed us that we could scarcely see what we were doing. When
we went into the stores we sat on the floor and a little boy fanned us
all the time we were making our selection.
Monday, Miss Lessing asked me to begin a physical culture class with
the larger girls who are being trained for teachers, so I decided that
the first lesson would be on _skipping_. It is an unknown art in
Japan and the lack of it makes the Kindergarten work very awkward.
I took fourteen girls out on the porch and told them by signs and
gestures to follow me. Then I picked up my skirts, and whistling a
coon-song, started off. You never saw anything to equal their look of
absolute astonishment! They even got down on their hands and knees to
watch my feet. But they were game, and in spite of their tight kimonos
and sandalled feet they made a brave effort to follow. The first
attempt was disastrous, some fell on their faces, some went down on
their knees, and all stumbled. I didn't dare laugh for the Japanese
can stand anything better than ridicule. I helped and encouraged and
cheered them on to victory. The next day there was a slight
improvement, and by the third day they were experts. I found that they
had spent the whole afternoon in practice! Now what do you suppose the
result is? An epidemic of skipping has swept over Hiroshima like the
measles! Men women and children are trying to learn, and when we go
out to walk I almost have convulsions at the elderly couples we pass
earnestly trying to catch the step!
I was so encouraged by this success that I taught the girls all sorts
of steps and figures, even going so far as to teach them the
_quadrille_! But my ambition led me a little too far. One day I
came to class with a brand new step, which I had invented myself. It
_was_ rather giddy, but a splendid exercise. Well I headed the
line and after the girls had followed me around the room twice I saw
that they were convulsed with laughter! When I asked what was the
matter, they explained between gasps that the step was the principal
movement in the heathen dance given during festivals to the God of
Beauty! My saints! Wouldn't some of my dear brethren do a turn if
they knew!
Every afternoon I take about forty of the girls out for a walk. Our
favorite stroll is along the moat that surrounds the old castle. It is
almost always spilling over with lotus blossoms. The maidens,
trotting demurely along in their rain-bow kimonos and little clicking
sandals make a pretty picture. We have to pass the parade grounds of
the barracks where 20,000 soldiers are stationed, and I do wish you
could see them trying to be modest, and yet peeping out of the corners
of their little almond eyes in a way which is not peculiar to any
particular country.
And the way they imitate me makes me afraid to breathe naturally. This
thing of being a shining example is more than I bargained for. It is
one of the few things in my checkered career that I have hitherto
escaped.
Never mind Mate, I couldn't be frivolous if I wanted to down
here. Kobe would have proven fatal, for there are many foreigners
there, and the temptation to have a good time would have been too much
for me. I am rapidly developing into a hymn-singing sister, and the
world and the flesh and the devil are shut up in the closet. Let us
pray.
October 2nd, 1901.
At last, dear Mate, I am started at my own work with the babies and
there aren't any words to tell you how cunning they are. There are
eighty-five high class children in the pay kindergarten, and forty in
the free. The latter are mostly of the very poor families, most of the
mothers working in the fields or on the railroads. There are so many
pitiful cases that one longs for a mint of money and a dozen hands to
relieve them. One little girl of six comes every day with her blind
baby brother strapped on her back. She is a tiny thing herself and yet
that baby is never unstrapped from her back until night comes. When I
first saw her old weazened face and her eagerness to play, I just took
them both in my lap and cried!
One funny thing I must tell you about. From the first week that I got
here, the children have had a nickname for me. I noticed them laughing
and nudging each other on the street and in the school, and whenever I
passed they raised their right hands in salute, and gave a funny
little clucking sound. They seemed to pass the word from one to
another until every youngster in the neighborhood followed the
trick. My curiosity was aroused to such a pitch that I got an
interpreter to investigate the matter. When he came to report, he
smilingly touched my little enamelled watch, the one Jack gave me on
my 16th birthday, and apologetically informed me that the children
thought it was a decoration from the Emperor and they were saluting me
in consequence! And they have named me "The Lady of the Decoration".
Think of it, I have a title, and I am actually looked up to by these
funny yellow babies as a superior being. They forget it some time
though when we all get to playing together in the yard. We can't talk
to each other, but we can laugh and romp together, and sometimes the
fun runs high.
I am busy from morning until night. The two kindergartens, a big
training class in physical culture, two Japanese lessons a day and
prayers about every three minutes, don't leave many spare hours for
homesickness. But the longing is there all the same, and when I see
the big steamers out in the harbor and realize that they are coaling
for _home_, I just want to steal aboard and stay there.
The language is something awful. I get my tongue in such knots that I
have to use a corkscrew to pull it straight again. Just between you
and me, I have decided to give it up and devote my time to teaching
the girls to speak English instead. They are such responsive, eager
little things, it will not be hard.
As for the country, I wouldn't dare to attempt a
description. Sometimes I just _ache_ with the beauty of it all!
From my window I can see in one group banana, pomegranate, persimmon
and fig trees all loaded with fruit. The roses are still in full
bloom, and color, color everywhere. Across the river, the banks are
lined with picturesque houses that look out from a mass of green, and
above them are tea-houses, and temples and shrines so old that even
the moss is gray, and time has worn away the dates engraved upon the
stones.
We spent yesterday at the sacred Island of Miyajima, which is about
one hour's ride from here. The dream of it is still upon me and I wish
I could share it with you. We went over in a sampan, a rude open boat
rowed by two men in undress uniform. For half an hour we literally
danced across the sea; everything was fresh and sparkling, and I was
so glad to be alive and free, that I just sang for joy. Miss Leasing
joined in and the boatmen kept time, smiling and nodding their
approval.
The mountains were sky high, and at their base in a small
crescent-shaped plain was the village with streets so clean and white
you hated to walk on them. We stopped at the "House of the White
Cloud" and three little maids took off our shoes and replaced them
with pretty sandals. The whole house was of cedar and ebony and bamboo
and it had been rubbed with oil until it shone like satin. On the
floor was a stuffed matting with a heavy border of crimson silk, and
in the corner of the room was a jar that came to my shoulder, full of
wonderfully blended chrysanthemums. All the rooms opened upon a porch
which hung directly above a roaring waterfall, and below us a dozen
steps away stretched the sparkling sea, full of hundreds of sailing
vessels and junks.
In the afternoon, we wandered over the island, visiting the old, old
temples, listening to the mysterious wailing of the wind bells,
feeding the deer and crane, and drinking in the beauty of it all. I
felt like a disembodied spirit, traveling back, back over the
centuries, into dim forgotten ages. The dead seemed close about me,
yet they brought no gloom, for I too was dead. All afternoon I had
the impression of trying to keep my consciousness from drifting into
oblivion through the gate of this magical dream!
How you would enjoy it all, and read its deeper meaning, which is
hidden from me. But even if I can't philosophize like a certain
blessed old Mate of mine, I can _feel_ until every nerve is a
tingle with the thrill.
Good bye for a little while; I've stolen the time to write you this,
and now it behooves me to hustle.
November 12th, 1901.
It's been a long while between "drinks", but I have been waiting until
I could write a letter minus the groans. The truth is I have hit
bottom good and hard and it is only to-day that I have come to the
surface. When the exhilaration of seeing all the new and strange
sights wore off, I began to sink in a sea of homesickness that
threatened to put an end to the kindergarten business for good and
all.
I worked like mad, and all the time I felt like one of these whizzing
rockets that go rushing through the air and die out in a miserable
little fizzle at the end. I can stand it in the daytime, but at night
I almost go crazy. And you have no idea how many women do lose their
minds out here. Nearly every year some poor insane creature has to be
shipped home. You needn't worry about that though, if I had mind
enough to lose I'd have lost it long ago. But to think of all my old
ambitions and aspirations ending in the humble task of wiping Little
Japan's nose!
I suppose you think I am pulling for the shore but I am not. I am
steering my little craft right out in the billows It may be dashed to
smithereens, and it may come safely home again, but in any case, I'll
have the consolation of the Texas cowboy that "I've done my durndest!"
By the way, what has become of Jack? He needn't have taken me so
literally as never to send me a message even! You mentioned his having
been at the Cape while you were there. Was he just as unsociable as
ever? I can see him now lying flat on his back in the bottom of a boat
reading poetry. I hate poetry, and when he used to quote his favorite
passages I made parodies on them. Now _you_ were always
different. You'd rhapsodize with him to his heart's content.
Just here I had a lovely surprise. I looked out of the window and saw
a coolie pull a little wagon into the yard and begin to unload. I
couldn't imagine what was taking place but pretty soon Miss Dixon came
in with both arms full of papers, pictures, magazines and letters. It
was all my mail! I just danced up and down for joy. I guess you will
never know the meaning of letters until you are nine thousand miles
from home. And such dear loving encouraging letters as mine were! I
am going to sit right down and read them all over again.
November 24th, 1901.
Clear sailing once more, Mate! In my last, I remember, I was blowing
the fog horn pretty persistently.
The letters from home set me straight again. If ever a human being was
blessed with a good family and good friends it is my unworthy self!
The past week has been unusually exciting. First we had a wedding on
hand. The bride is a girl who has been educated in the school, so of
course we were all interested. Some time ago, the middle-man, who does
all the arranging, came to her father and said a young teacher in the
Government school desired his daughter in marriage. The father
without consulting the girl investigated the suitor's standing, and
finding it satisfactory, said yea. So little Otoya was told that she
was going to be married, and the groom elect was invited to call.
I was on tiptoe with curiosity to see what would happen, but the
meeting took place behind closed doors. Otoya told me afterwards that
she had never seen the young man until he entered the room, but they
both bowed three times, then she served tea while her mother and
father talked to him. "Didn't you talk to him at all?" I asked. She
looked horrified. "No, that would have been most immodest!" she
said. "But you peeped at him," I insisted. She shook her head, "That
would have been disgrace." Now that was three months ago and she
hadn't seen him until Monday when they were married.
At our suggestion they decided to have an American wedding and I was
appointed mistress of ceremonies. It was great fun, for we had a best
man, besides brides-maids and flower girls, and Miss Lessing played
the Wedding March for them to enter. The arrangements were somewhat
difficult owing to the fact that the Japanese consider it the height
of vulgarity to discuss anything pertaining to the bride or the
wedding. They excused me on the ground that I was a foreigner.
The affair was really beautiful! The little bride's outer garment was
the finest black crepe, but under it, layer after layer, were slips of
rainbow tinted cob-web silk that rippled into sight with every
movement she made. And every inch of her trousseau was made from the
cocoons of worms raised in her own house, and was spun into silk by
her waiting maids.
After the excitement of the wedding had subsided, we had a visitation
from forty Chinese peers. They came in a cavalcade of kuramas,
gorgeously arrayed, and presenting an imposing appearance. I ran for
the poker for I thought maybe they had come to finish "Us
Missionaries." But, bless you, they had heard of our school and our
kindergarten and had come for the Chinese Government to investigate
ways and means. They made a tour of the school, ending up in, the
kindergarten. The children were completely overpowered by these
black-browed, fierce-looking gentlemen, but I put them through their
paces. The visitors were so pleased that they stayed all morning and
signified their unqualified approval. When they started to leave, I
asked the interpreter if their gracious highnesses would permit my
unworthy self to take their honorable pictures. Would you believe it?
Those old fellows puffed up like pouter pigeons, and giggled and
primped like a lot of school girls! They stood in a row and beamed
upon me while I snapped the kodak. If the picture is good, I'll send
you one.
This morning I had to teach Sunday School. I'll be praying in public
next. I see it coming. The lesson was "The Prodigal Son", a subject
on which I ought to be qualified to speak. The Japanese youths
understood about one word out of three, but they were giving me close
attention. I was expounding with all the earnestness in me when
suddenly I remembered a picture Jack used to have. It was of a lean
little calf tearing down the road, while in the distance was coming a
lazy looking tramp. Underneath was the legend:
"Run, bossy, run,
Here comes the Prodigal Son."
That settled my sermon, so I told the boys a bear story instead.
How I should love to drop in on you to-night and sit on the floor
before the fire and pow-wow! I'll be an awful back number when I come
home, but just think how entertaining I'll be! I have enough good
dinner stories to last through the rest of my life!
For heaven's sake send me some hat pins, nice long ones with pretty
heads. And if you are in New York this winter please get me two
bottles of that violet extract that I always use.
My dearest love to all, and a hundred kisses to the blessed children
at home Don't you _dare_ let them forget me.
November 27th, 1901.
I told you it would come! My prophetic soul foresaw it. I had to lead
the prayer in chapel this morning. And I play the organ in Sunday
School and listen to two Japanese sermons on Sunday.
I tell you, Mate, this part of the work goes sadly against the
grain. They say you get used to hanging if you just hang long enough,
so I suppose I'll become reconciled in time. You ask me _why_ I
do these things. Well you see it's all just like a big work shop,
where everybody is working hard and cheerfully and yet there is so
much work waiting to be done, that you don't stop to ask whether you
like it or not.
I can't begin to tell you of the hopelessness of some of the lives out
here. Just think of it! Women working in the stone quarries, and in
the sand pits and on the railroads, and always with babies tied on
their backs, and the poor little tots crippled and deformed from the
cramped position and often blind from the glare of the sun.
What I am crazy to do now is to open another free kindergarten in one
of the poorest parts of the city. It would cost only fifty dollars to
run it a whole year, and I mean to do it if I have to sell one of my
rings. It is just glorious to feel that you are actually helping
somebody, even if that somebody is a small and dirty tribe of Japanese
children. I get so discouraged and blue sometimes that I don't know
what to do, but when a little tot comes up and slips a very soiled
hand into mine and pats it and lays it against his cheek and hugs it
up to his breast and says, "Sensei, Sensei," I just long to take the
whole lot of them to my heart and love them into an education!
They don't know the word love but they know its meaning, and if I
happen to stop to pat a little head, a dozen arms are around me in a
minute, and I am almost suffocated with affection. One little fellow
always calls me "Nice boy" because that is what I called him.
We are having glorious weather, cold in doors but warm outside. The
chrysanthemums and roses are still blooming, and the trees are heavily
laden with fruit. The persimmons grow bigger than a coffee cup and the
oranges are tiny things, but both are delicious. Chestnuts are twice
as big as ours, and they cook them as a vegetable.
You'll be having Thanksgiving soon, and you will all go up to
Grandmother's, and have a jolly time together. Have them fix a plate
for me, Mate, and turn down an empty glass. Nobody will miss me as
much as I will miss my poor little self.
What jolly Thanksgivings we have had together! The gathering of the
clans, the big dinner, and the play at night. Not exactly a play, was
it, Mate f More of a vaudeville performance with you as the stage
manager, and I as the soubrette. Do you remember the last reunion
before I was married? I mean the time I was Lady Macbeth and gave a
skirt dance, and you did lovely stunts from Grand Opera. Have you
forgotten Jack's famous parody on "My Country 'Tis of Thee?"
"My turkey, 'tis of thee,
Sweet bird of cranberry,
Of thee I sing!
I love thy neck and wings,
Legs, back and other things," etc, etc.
There goes the bell, and here go I. I can appreciate the feelings of
a fire engine!
Christmas Day, 1901.
Had somebody told you last Christmas, as we trimmed the big tree and
made ready for the family gathering, that this Christmas would find me
in a foreign country teaching a band of little heathens, wouldn't you
have thought somebody had wheels in his head?
And yet it is true, and I have only to lift my eyes to realize fully
that I am really in the flowery kingdom. The plum blossoms are in full
bloom and the roses too, while a thick frost makes everything
sparkling white in the sunshine. The mountains have put on a thin
blue veil trimmed in silver, and over all is a turquoise sky.
And best of all, everybody--I speak figuratively--is happy. It may be
that some poor little waif is hungry, having had only rice water for
breakfast, it may be some sad hearts are beating under the gay
kimonos, and it _may_ be, Mate dear, that somebody, a stranger in
a strange land, can't keep the tears back, and is longing with all her
mind and soul and body for home and her loved ones. But never you
mind, nobody knows it but you and me and a bamboo tree!
This afternoon we are going to have tea for the Mammas and Papas, and
I am going to put on my prettiest clothes and do my yellow locks in
their most fetching style.
I shall lock up tight, way down deep, all heartaches and longings and
put on my best smile for these dear little people who have given to
me, a stranger, such full measure of their sympathy and friendship,
who, in the big service last month, when giving thanks for all the
great blessings of the past year, named the new Kindergarten teacher
first.
Do you wonder that I am happy and miserable and homesick and contented
all at the same time?
The box I sent home for Christmas was a paltry offering compared to
what I wanted to send, but the things were bought with the first money
I ever earned. They are packed in so tight with love that I doubt if
you ever get them out.
Our Christmas dinner was not exactly a success. We invited all the
foreigners in Hiroshima, twelve in number, and everybody talked a
great deal and laughed at everybody's stale jokes, and pretended to be
terribly hilarious. But there was a pathetic droop to every mouth,
and not a soul referred to _home_. Each one seemed to realize
that the mere mention of the word would break up the party.
I tell you I am beginning to look with positive reverence on the
heroism of some of these people! Tears and regrets have no place here;
desire, ambition, love itself is laid aside, and only taken out for
inspection perhaps in the dead hours of the night. If heart breaks
come, as come they must, there is no crying out, no rebellion, just a
stiffer lip and a firmer grip and the work goes on.
I wish I was like that, but I'm not. If Nature had put more time on
my head and less on my heart, she would have turned out a better job.
I put a pipe in the box for Jack. If you think I ought not to have
done it, don't give it to him. As old Charity used to say, "I don't
want to discomboberate nobody." Only I hope he won't think I am
ungrateful and indifferent.
NAGASAKI. January 14th, 1902.
Now aren't you surprised at hearing from me in Nagasaki? I am
certainly surprised at being here! One of the teachers at the school,
Miss Dixon, Was taken sick and had to come here to see a doctor. I was
lucky enough to be asked to come with her.
I am so excited over being in touch with civilization again that I
can't sleep at night! The transports and all the steamers stop here,
and every type of humanity seems to be represented. This morning when
I went out to mail a letter, there were two Sikhs in uniform in front
of me, at my side was a Russian, behind me two Chinamen and a
Japanese, while a Frenchman stepped aside for me to pass, and an
Irishman tried to sell me some vegetables!
Miss Dixon had to go to the Hospital for a few days, though her
trouble is nothing serious, and I accepted an invitation from
Mrs. Ferris, the wife of the American Consul, to spend a few days with
her.
And oh! Mate, if you only _knew_ the time I have had! If I
weren't a sort of missionary-in-law I would quote Jack and say it has
been "perfectly damn gorgeously." If you want to really enjoy the
flesh-pots just live away from them for six months and then try them!
The night I came, the Ferrises gave me a beautiful dinner, and I wore
evening dress for the first time in two years, and was as thrilled as
a debutante at her first ball! It was so good to see cut glass and
silver, and to hear dear silly worldly chatter that I grew terribly
frivolous. Plates were laid for twenty, and who do you suppose was on
my right? The severe young purser who was on the steamer I came over
in! His ship is coaling in the harbour and he is staying with the
Ferrises, who are old friends of his. He is so solemn that he almost
kills me. If he weren't so good looking I could let him alone, but as
it is I can't help worrying the life out of him.
The dinner was most elaborate. After the oysters, came a fish nearly
three feet long all done up in sea-weed, then a big silver bowl was
brought in covered with pie-crust. When the carver broke the crust
there was a flutter of wings, and "four and twenty black birds" flew
out. This it seems was done by the Japanese cook as a sample of his
skill. All sorts of queer courses followed, served in the most unique
manner possible.
After dinner they begged me to sing, and though I protested violently,
they got me down at the piano. I didn't get up any more until the
party was over for they made me sing every song I knew and some I
didn't. I sang some things so hoary with age that they were decrepit!
The purser so far forgot himself as to ask me to sing "My Bonnie lies
over the Ocean"! I did so with great expression while he looked
pensively into the fire. Since then I have called him, "My Bonnie,"
and he _hates_ me.
The next day we went out to services on board the battleship "Victor."
The ship had been on a long cruise and we were the first American
women the officers had seen for many a long day. They gave us a
rousing welcome you may be sure. Through some mistake they thought I
was a "Miss" instead of a "Mrs." and I shamelessly let it pass. During
service I heard little that was said for the band was playing outside
and flags were flying and I was feeling frivolous to the tip of my
toe! I guess I am still pretty young, for brass buttons are just as
alluring as of old.
When the Admiral heard I was from Kentucky, he invited us to take
tiffin with him, and we exchanged darkey stories and the old gentleman
nearly burst his buttons laughing. After tea, he showed us over the
ship, making the sailors line up on deck for our benefit. "Tell the
band to play 'Old Kentucky Home'," he ordered.
"You'll lose a passenger if you do!" I cried, "for one note of that
would send me overboard!"
He was so attentive that I had little chance to talk to the young
officers I met. But several of them have called since, and I have been
out to a lot of teas and dinners and things with them. The one I like
best is a young fellow from Vermont. He is very clever and jolly and
we have great fun together. In fact, we are such chums that he showed
me a picture of his fiancée. He is very much in love with her, but if
I were in her place I would try to keep him within eye-shot.
We will probably go home to-morrow as Miss Dixon is so much better.
I am glad she is better, but I could have been reconciled to her being
mildly indisposed for a few days longer.
I forgot to thank you for the kodak book you sent Christmas; between
the joy of seeing all the familiar faces, and the bitterness of the
separation, and the absurdity of your jingles, I nearly had hysterics!
I almost felt as if I had had a visit home! The old house, the cabin,
the cherry tree, and all the family even down to old black Charity,
the very sight of whom made me hungry for buckwheat cakes, all, all
gave me such joy and pain that it was hard to tell which was
uppermost.
It's worth everything to be loved as you all love me, and I am willing
to go through anything to be worthy of it. I have had more than my
share of hard bumps in life, but, thank Heaven, there was always
somebody waiting to kiss the place to make it well. There isn't a day
that I haven't some evidence of this love; a letter, a paper, a book
that reminds me that I'm not forgotten.
A note has just come from his Solemn Highness, the purser, asking me
to go walking with him! I am going to try to be nice to him but I know
I won't! He is so young and so serious that I can't resist shocking
him. He doesn't approve of giddy young widows that don't look sorry!
Neither do I. In two days I return to the fold. Until then "My
Bonnie" beware!
HIROSHIMA, February 19th, 1902.
After a sleepless night I got up this morning with a splitting
headache. I have been back in the traces for a month, and I am
beginning to feel like a poor old horse in a tread mill, not that I
don't love the work, but oh! Mate, I am so lonesome, lonesome,
lonesome. I think I used up so much sand when I first came that the
supply is running low.