A long, long time ago there lived in a quiet spot a young man and his
wife. They had one child, a little daughter, whom they both loved with
all their hearts. I cannot tell you their names, for they long since
have been forgotten; but the name of the place where they lived was
Matsuyama, in one of the provinces of Japan.
It happened once, while the little girl was still a baby, that the
father was obliged to go to the great city, the capital of Japan, upon
some business. It was too far for the mother and her little one to go,
and so he set out alone, after promising to bring home some pretty
presents for them. The mother had never been farther from home than the
next village, and she could not help being very anxious at the thought
of the long journey her husband was about to take. Yet she was proud,
too, for he was the first man in all that countryside who had been to
the big town where the king and his great lords lived, and where there
were so many beautiful and curious things to be seen.
At last the time came when she might expect her husband to return;
so she dressed the baby in her best clothes, and herself put on an
embroidered blue robe which she knew her husband liked. You may fancy
how glad she was to see him home again, and how the little girl clapped
her hands and laughed with delight when she saw the pretty toys her
father had brought for her. He had much to tell of all the wonderful
things he had seen upon his long journey, and in the great town which
he had visited.
“I have brought you a very curious present,” said the young man to his
wife. “Look, and tell me what you see inside of this.”
Then he gave her a plain, white wooden box, and when she had opened
it, she found a round piece of metal. One side of the metal was white
like frosted silver, and ornamented with raised figures of birds and
flowers; the other side was bright as the clearest crystal. Into its
shining surface the young mother looked with wonder and delight, for
there she saw smiling at her, with parted lips and bright eyes, a
happy, joyous face.
“What do you see?” again asked the husband, pleased at her
astonishment, and glad to show that he had learned something while he
had been away.
“I see a pretty woman looking at me, and she moves her lips as if she
were speaking, and--how very odd, she has on a blue dress like mine!”
“Why, you silly woman, it is your own face that you see,” said the
husband, proud of knowing something that his wife did not know. “That
round piece of metal is called a mirror. In the city everybody has a
mirror, but in this country place no one has ever before seen one.”
The wife was charmed with her present, and for a few days could not
look into the mirror often enough; for you must remember that, as this
was the first time she had seen a mirror, so of course it was the first
time she had ever seen the reflection of her own fair face. But she
considered such a wonderful thing far too precious for everyday use,
and soon shut it up in its box again, and put it away carefully among
her most valued treasures.
Years passed on, and the husband and wife still lived happily. The joy
of their life was their little daughter, who grew up the very image
of her mother, and who was so dutiful and affectionate that everybody
loved her. Remembering her own passing vanity on finding herself so
lovely in the mirror, the mother kept it carefully hidden away, fearing
that its use might breed a spirit of pride in her little girl.
She never spoke of the mirror and the father had forgotten all about
it. So it happened that the daughter grew up as simple as the mother
had been, and knew nothing of her own good looks, or of the mirror
which would have reflected them.
But by and by a sad misfortune came upon this happy little family. The
good, kind mother became ill; and although her daughter waited upon her
day and night with loving care, the sick woman grew worse and worse,
until at last they knew that she must soon die.
When she found that she must leave her husband and child, the poor
woman felt very sorrowful, grieving for those she should see no more,
and most of all for her little daughter. She called the girl to her
and said: “My darling child, you know that I am very ill: soon I must
die, and leave your dear father and you alone. When I am gone, promise
me that you will look into this mirror every night and every morning:
there you shall see me and know that I am still watching over you.”
With these words she took the mirror from the secret place where it was
kept, and gave it to her daughter. The child promised, with many tears,
to obey, and the mother, having become calm and resigned, died within a
short time.
Now the daughter never forgot her mother’s last request, but each
morning and evening took the mirror from its hiding place and looked
in it long and earnestly. There she saw the bright and smiling vision
of her lost mother; not pale and sickly as she was in her last days,
but young and beautiful as in the days of long ago. To her mother at
night the young girl told the story of the trials and difficulties of
the day; and to her mother in the morning she looked for sympathy and
encouragement in whatever might be in store for her.
So day by day she lived as in her mother’s sight, striving still to
please her as she had always done, and careful always to avoid whatever
might pain or grieve her. The maiden’s greatest joy was to be able to
look into the mirror and say: “Mother, I have been to-day what you
would have me to be.”
Seeing that his daughter looked into the mirror every night and
morning, and seemed to hold converse with it, her father at length
asked her the reason of her strange behavior.
“Father,” she said, “I look into the mirror every day to see my dear
mother and to talk with her.” Then she told him of her mother’s dying
wish, and that she had never failed to fulfil it.
Touched by so much simplicity, and such faithful, loving obedience, the
father shed tears of pity and affection. Nor could he find it in his
heart to tell the child that the image she saw in the mirror was but
the reflection of her own sweet face becoming day by day more and more
like her dead mother’s.
--FROM THE JAPANESE.
* * * * *
Press on! if once and twice thy feet
Slip back and stumble, harder try;
From him who never dreads to meet
Danger and death, they’re sure to fly.