“You will love no more your Morning Glory, I am certain, when you are informed how she looks nowadays. “She inclines against a willow trunk by her cottage. Were you ever acquainted with the great repose of a poetess? Her eyes flash in divine sarcasm. She will shoot them down to the mortal domain (she lives on the mountain), while she murmurs in tragical accents: ‘I pity you, ant-mortals!’ “Isn’t she shocking? “Oscar, I have withdrawn to the Heights, and am prying into the Incomprehensible of Nature with Mr. Heine. “He is unique. “I take it upon me to say that he is a great poet. Because, in the first place, he never asked me yet, ‘Do poems pay in Japan?’ “It’s such a trying work for an old man like him to pose as a poet all the time. “Poet is a sensitive creation. He fancies, I think, the whole world is staring at him. Poor Poet! He keeps up, and tries to be picturesque as he can. “I am grieved to state, however, that his picturesqueness frequently drops into silliness. “The absurd thing is that even my uncle takes a part in his farce. “We had no meat to bite yesterday. “The poet had no shot left for his gun. “What did he plan, do you imagine? “He went up the hill, shouldering his pick. My uncle retainered him with a spade. “‘We will soon bring back a squirrel which we will dig out, Miss Morning Glory,’ the poet said. “Could you ever suppose, Oscar, that any animal except an invalid (an animal who has four feet at that, instead of two like my venerable gentlemen) could permit itself to be so slow like them? “I laughed till my side ached. “Funny old men! “Every sort of sweat fell from their brows when they dragged their fatigued feet home not accompanied by even one inch of any animal tail. “‘I have never heard yet, Mr. Poet, of a squirrel turned to turnip,’ I gibed. “I dread old age, because it makes woman inquisitive, and man silly. Inquisitiveness is tasteless like wax, while silliness is helpless, like a fish on the sand. “I fear you are silly already, when you say that you sat up late looking at my picture. “Sat up late? “What will you do if your mamma thinks you can’t sleep from hard drink when you yawn continually at the table? “Please, don’t do it again! “Step to your bed at half-past six as I do! “Are you sure that my picture approved your act? “I guess it shrugged its shoulders from contempt, the delicious moment of blushing being passed. “If my picture is so precious, I advise you to alter it to ashes. You will take two spoonfuls of the ashes every morning. I am sure, then, your soul will be saved. “O my darling, I love you! “I am your “LITTLE JAP GIRL