The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1895-12-21
HONOLULU LETTER.
FROM REV. CLARENCE e. RICE.
Japan Missionary


WHEN year ago we left Japan we
little thought that SO long time
would elapse before it would be wise
to risk again the Japanese climate to
return to our work. We thought
then that three or four months at
most in the bracing air of our native
land would restore health and fit one
to take up again the work reluctantly
laid aside. But nine months had
passed and then the Conventions
came on, so that over year has
passed since we sailed out of the Yo
kohama harbor. But now the last
Convention has been attended and
preparations for the long journey have
been made and we are off for
Japan Once More.
The journey to Japan, reckoned in
round numbers is 5000 miles if we go
westward via San Francisco. If we
went by the way of Europe and the
Suez Canal the distance would be
much greater and would occupy many
DAYS more. Our course therefore lies
across the American Continent to San
Francisco, thence across the Pacific
via Honolulu and the Sandwich ISL
ands to the Land of the Rising Sun.
Chattanooga.
We plan to take that splendidly
equipped train the Sunset Limited"
from New Orleans to the Pacific coast.
We find ourselves obliged to wait at
Chattanooga for train south. We
are not sorry for it gives us an op-
portunity to see that southern city
and to visit the great Battlefields of
Chickamauga and Missionary Ridge.
We engage carriage and spend most
of the day driving about those fields
that have become sacred to SO many
American hearts. A great battlefield!
For twenty. five miles the road leads
hither and thither, over hills and
dales, through wooded spots, monu
ments and graves meath the sturdy
oak. What drive it is! And how
can we help being moved when we
reflect upon the scenes here witnessed
in those dark days Of war! And at
last our path leads us to the city of the
dead, near by to the cityl Here side
by side, lie $4,000 of Americas dead.
Here above our dead, in the place
kept sacred to the memory of the
brave, we would be heartless indeed,
if we were not stirred deeply, if our
hearts did not pay tribute to those
who sleep here in this quiet spot.
The Sunny South.
After Sunday spent in the quaint
city of New Orleans we enter our
finely equipped vestibuled train and
are soon flying over the fields of Lou
isiana. From our childhood We have
been fascinated with accounts We
have read of the sunny South. We
have dreamed of some time passing
through the land of cotton and the
sugar cane. And here we are at last.
now passing through great fields of
sugar cane where the negroes are at
work harvesting the cane, great green
fields of sugar cane stretching away
as far as the eye can see, waving in
the wind; plantation after plantation
devoted to this great industry, while
here and there the sugar refneries tell
us something of the work that is be-
ing done in this Southern State.
Presently we are running into the
cypress swamp, with the great trees
hung with Spanish moss,-the home
of the crocodile and reptiles of other
kinds,-through wierd, moss-h hung
forests and out again into cotton
fields white with cotton; past the mud
huts, over bayous and through oak
forests, and then again out into the
open where here and there along the
roads we catch glimpses of mansions
with broad verandas and shady lawns
all telling us of that hospitality of
which we have read. Then on into
Texas with its great ranches and i'm
mense feeding herds of cattle and
sheep. Through this great State we
are whirled till we are almost dazed
with the thoughts of the possibilities
of this great country Of ours. All in
all it is a most interesting journey.
And at last after passing through
deserts covered only with sage brush
or forests of huge cacti, we cross the
California line and are soon steaming
into
Los Angeles.
Here our brother, Rev. A. A. Rice,
has planted himself, self-appointed
missionary to build up a church in
this lovely city of Southern Califor-