Next morning I heard the scampering of many feet and much laughter in the hallways, and I thought there were children out there playing games. It was those brown little chambermaids hard at work. I wonder whence comes the perpetual sunny cheer of these little people; whether it be simple temperament or ages of philosophy--or both. "You have your troubles," they say, "therefore I must not burden you with mine." And a man will tell you, with a smile, of some misfortune that is almost breaking his heart. The little maid who had unpacked my bag brought breakfast to me, and I could see that I was invested with some interest which was not at all apparent the night before. Presently it came out: "You are going to Korea?" "Yes, I am going to Korea." "I want to go to Korea, but they won't let girls go." "Why do you want to go to Korea?" For the first time I saw Japanese eyes flash, and her answer came like the crack of a whip: "To fight!" Among the thousands of applications, many of them written in blood, which the war office has received from men who are anxious to go to the front, is one from just such a girl. In her letter she said that she was the last of an old Samurai family. Her father was killed in the war with China; her only brother died during the Boxer troubles. She begged to be allowed to take the place in the ranks which had always belonged to her family. She could shoot, she said, and ride; and it would be a lasting disgrace if her family name should be missing from the rolls, where it has had an honored place for centuries, now that her country and her Emperor are in such sore need.