I rose. I approached him with secret step. I fell on him from his massy back and cried: “What are you scribbling?” Erai, my honourable uncle! He was translating Gibbon’s “History of Rome.” I was stunned from the shame of taking him to be in such a wretched line even in fancy. I vowed to myself—with three low bows—to take perfect care of my noble worker. Then I gave him my sweet smile. “Uncle, let me fix something more! Haven’t you anything? Tear your shirt or pull off the buttons, then!” 20th—Already I could suck from the agile air the flavour of spring upon the lawn. I was roving by the rose-bushes along the street with scissors. A gentleman passed by me. How sluggish his shoes sounded! He stopped, waving his old-scented smile, and addressed me: “Good morning, young lady!” “Ohayo!” “I perceive that you are Japanese.” “Yes, sir!” He stepped nearer to me. I took a peep at the Bible under his arm. “Are you a Christian?” he lowered his tone. “Don’t you read the Gospel?” his voice rose higher. “Don’t you attend church?” his sound grew higher still. “I love to be shocked. I couldn’t sustain myself against a bore. Church? It’s too sleepy, don’t you know? I have remarked that God is with me without any sort of prayer, if I trace the path of righteousness. A minister is only a meddling grandmamma to my mind. If I ever build my ideal city, two things shall not be tolerated. One is a lawyer’s office and the other is a church. Church, sir! May I present you with one rose?” I raised me to place it in his coat. “Here’s a letter for you, Morning Glory!” I was rescued by my uncle. How angelic his voice rang! “I’m sorry, I’m much occupied this very morning,” I said, bowing slightly. I pushed myself within the door. Poor preacher! 21st—My answer to Oscar is as follows: “DEAR HONOURABLE MR. ELLIS: “Let me begin in respectable fashion! “A Jap girl is awfully formal. “Do you know, Mr. Ellis, whom you are addressing? “I am an Oriental. “Nippon daughters believe ‘ev’rithin’ a gentleman mentions. “They have been fooled enough, I should declare, in American fiction. Oscar—no, Mr. Ellis—don’t let me earn the anecdote that I drifted to Ameriky to be toyed with! My ancestor did a harakiri. I am pretty sure I have, then, to kill myself. “Don’t recite again your honourable confession of love! “It made me cry. “My dark face with drenched eyes will degrade me to a hired Chinese ‘crying woman.’ “Your narration was dramatic. “Your cleverness is the most lamentable thing about you. Woman used to love a bright fellow many years ago. Do you know that the modern girl woos a stupid man? “Please, don’t repeat again such an adjective as ‘heavenly’ for my face! No one utters the word ‘heaven’ except in swearing. Even ministers juggle with it for a jest in church, I suppose. My face isn’t heavenly at all. You know it, don’t you?