Korean women as a rule are not beautiful. I, who love them as much as any one ever did, who look upon them as my own sisters, must confess this. Sorrow, hopelessness, hard labor, sickness, lovelessness, ignorance, often, too often, shame, have dulled their eyes, and hardened and scarred their faces, so that one looks in vain for a semblance of beauty among women over twenty-five years of age. Among the little maids and young wives (saixies), who do not yet show the effects of the heavy hand of care and toil, one often finds a sweet bright gentle face that is pretty, winning, and very rarely even beautiful. But these poor palace women come not under that class; hardened, coarse and vulgar, their appearance only calls forth compassion. I found to my surprise that they were all smokers, and they were equally surprised that I would not accept their invitation to join them in this indulgence. They examined my dress and belongings with childish curiosity, and deluged me with questions as to my age, why I had never married, whether I had children, and why not, and other things equally impertinent and hard to answer; but were after all good natured, friendly and well meaning. This was my first introduction to Korean officialdom, and following this within a very short time came another, in the form of a luncheon and acrobatic entertainment given for me by the President of the Foreign Office, Kim Yun Sik. This invitation came for the following Sunday--and troubled me, because I was afraid the official (who was quite ignorant of our customs and was offering me a flattering evidence of courtesy and good will) would be hurt by my refusal to accept an invitation for that day, and would very likely misunderstand it. However, there was nothing else to be done, and with suitable explanations, I announced my extreme regret at being obliged to refuse his kindness.