The pedestrians threw their vaguely delicate shadows on the pavements. The ladies voluntarily permitted the gentlemen to review their legs. If I were in command, I would not permit the ladies to raise an umbrella under the “para para” of a shower. Their hastening figures are so fascinating. The shower stopped. The pavements were glossed like a looking-glass. The windows facing the sun scattered their sparkling laughter. How beautiful! I am perfectly delighted by this city. One thing that disappoints me, however, is that Frisco is eternally snowless, Without snow the year is incomplete, like a departure without sayonara. Dear snow! O Yuki San! Many Winters ago I modelled a doll of snow, which was supposed to be a gentleman. How proud I used to be when I stamped the first mark with my high ashida on the white ground before anyone else! I wonder how Santa Claus will array himself to call on this town. His fur coat is not appropriate at all. 7th—Why didn’t I come to Amerikey earlier—in the Summer season? I was staring sadly at my purple parasol against the wall by my dresser. I have no chance to show it. I have often been told that I look so beautiful under it. 8th—My darling O Ada came in a carriage. Her two-horsed carriage was like that of our Japanese premier. She is the daughter of a banker. The sun shone in yellow. Ada’s complexion added a brilliancy. I was shocked, fearing that I looked awfully brown. Ada said that I was “perfectly lovely.” Can I trust a woman’s eulogy? I myself often use flattery. A jewel and face-powder were not the only things, I said, essential to woman. We drove to the Golden Gate Park and then to the Cliff House. What a triumphant sound the hoofs of the bay horses struck! I fancied the horses were a poet, they were rhyming. I don’t like the automobile. Ada was sweet as could be. “Tell me your honourable love story!” she chattered. I did only blush. I hadn’t the courage to burst my secrecy. I loved once truly. It was an innocent love as from a fairy book. If true love could be realised! In the park I noticed a lady who scissored the “don’t touch” flowers and stepped away with a saintly air. The comical fancy came to me that she was the mother of a policeman guarding against intruders. We found ourselves in the Japanese tea garden. A tiny musume in wooden clogs brought us an honourable tea and o’senbe. The grounds were an imitation of Japanese landscape gardening. Homesickness ran through my fibre. The decorative bridge, a stork by the brook, and the dwarf plants hinted to me of my home garden. A sudden vibration of shamisen was flung from the Japanese cottage close by. “Tenu, tenu! Tenu, tsunn shann!” Who was the player? When I sat myself by the ocean on the beach I found some packages of peanuts right before me. The beautiful Ada began to snap them.