Both the king and queen have always shown a passionate fondness for children. Only a few months ago the king spent nearly four hundred thousand dollars on sorcerers and temples in trying to mollify the smallpox god, which had attacked the youngest son, a boy of about six. So no wonder they were kind to the small American. The queen ordered nuts and candies brought in, and insisted on his eating then and there, although, knowing that it was bad form in the eyes of Koreans as well as of foreigners to eat in the royal presence, and fearing for his health as well (for he had never as yet eaten nuts), I begged her majesty to allow this treat to be postponed. His looks and actions were praised far beyond their deserts, and every expression noted and remarked upon. The queen drew the child to her side in a motherly fashion, placing her hand on his forehead, remarked anxiously that it was too hot. When we were ready to go, the king, to my amazement, actually knelt down in front of the baby, and with his own “jade” fingers buttoned on the little coat and made a brave attempt to tie the cap strings, one of which, I blush to confess, in the unfamiliar tug was quite torn from its moorings. Of course I was overwhelmed with confusion over the bad conduct of the ribbon on such an occasion, but the king overlooked it, and farewells were said and again the child was spirited swiftly away by the palace women. I found him in the women’s quarters handed round like a curio from one to another, petted, caressed, discussed, half-frightened, but demure. Poor palace women! with no homes or children, living such an aimless, shut-in life, a child in their midst was a godsend indeed. But all Koreans are extremely fond of children. A child is an open sesame to their hearts and homes at all times. God blesses the missionary babies, and these little preachers open doors that yield to no other touch than their little dimpled fingers. From palace to hovel I never found a woman whose heart would not soften, whose eyes would not brighten, whose interest could not at once be enlisted by the sight of a child. That evening as we returned home through the narrow and winding streets of Seoul we were quite an imposing procession. A number of palace lantern bearers accompanied us, each carrying the gayly-colored silk official lanterns of their majesties, and preceding us were a train of servants, carrying on their heads great trays of oranges, nuts, dried persimmons and candies. It took little imagination, looking at those men in their Eastern attire, at the lanterns and streets, and even our own chair with its oriental splendor, to transport ourselves into the middle of a chapter of the Arabian nights, with a little Aladdin sitting in my lap and the slaves of the ring attending us home.