The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1904-09-16
head danced gay banners and


others were chattering and laughing.
AS went up the street at good
pace in my two wheeled baby cab,
which they call jinriksha, with the
gay crowd lodging out of the way OF
the runner who held the shafts and
acted as my horse, felt just like
page out of story book, or like one
of the pictures.
We were all going to see the cherry
trees at the park. Now had seen
the cherry trees at home, but moth
ing like those pink-tinged double bios
SONS as large as double rose, cover
ing every branch and twig; nothing
like these clouds of odorcus pink,
caught and held down by the clinging
black branches. There were no green
leaves, these come later on the Gull
tivated trees; only the fieecy pink
cloud of bloom, and under the trees
was drift of pink snow from fallen
petals.
Benches were set close together I'M
der the trees, and people were drink
ing tea served by tidy maids from the
teahouse near by. Yet they were not
benches, they were tiny low tabies.
about like doll table, before which
they squatted on their heels. Now my
muscles are not timber enough to sit
long or comfortably in that position.
Even the babies of that land are
taught to sit on their heels. instead
of putting their feet cut in front OF
them, as cur babies do. so their mus
cles are trained to it. But went
little to one side and sat down on the
grass with my American walking
shosg sticking their toes out in front
of me and enjoyed the scene.
Japanese people are very polite and
kindly, and as l watched the darling
children in scarlet, yellow and laven-
der, chattering and catching at their
odd toys of paper and feathers, one
solemn little girl. looking like bit
of rainbow. came timidly toward me
with cup CT tea and some sweet
meats.
quickly went down into the pocket
of my memory for some of my best
Japanese, and came up with enough
of it to say, Thank you; come and
sit by me" and she squatted beside
me. Everyone is gay and ready for
fun when the cherry trees bloom, SO
l was soon surrounded by crowd
of curious little people, all looking
wonderingly at the strange foreigner
who seemed SO unusual there, and
|. yet could talk with them, and we
were soon quite well acquainted.
drank the tea and ate the sweet
meats, which were round balls made
CT rice, and they showed me their
toys Japanese children have no poe
kets in their quaint, long gowns, but
the sleeves, wide and reaching to the
knees, made an excellent substitute,
and out of them came tops and balls,
little toys made of paper and rice
straw to initiate figures and boats,
and we had plenty to talk about for
awhile. Then the gay little butter
flies fitted off to chase each other
down the long aisles of the tree
trunks. All but one, maid whose
name, as she told me, was Dune,
which means ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Plum. In that country they name
little girls after flowers and graceful
things, the o meaning honorable,
title of respect. There are many such
names as Ear-of-Y oung-Rice, Bamboo,
Chrysanthemum, Spring-time. Dune,
with her kimono of yellow crepe en-
broidered in pale green leaves, sat
beside me, as eager to hear about
American girls as you are to hear
about her. So told her of one and
another; of Margaret, who lived in a
great city and took long rides on
street cars to our own parks; CT Eliz-
abeth, who lived on farm and fed
the chickens, cared for the baby tur-
keys and learned to make butter.
We talked so long THAT the shadows
deepened, and the sunset turned the
clouds of cherry blossom golden rose,
like real clouds, and over the brow
of the hill came the Japanese NAM
ma to take her little daughter home.
After a few moments conversation l
found that DUNES home was near
NINE so begged her company in my
jinriksha, fer she was little mite,
and am not large, SO we could easily
ride together.
Hand in hand we walked down the
avenues of trees to the granite gate
way, where the sturdy runner sat
with a group of others. Climbing in,
we Struggled close together and join
ed the gay colored, chattering crowd
homeward.
Over the curved bridges and past
the lctus lake we rolled, the funny
washbowl-shaped hat of the runner
bobbing up and down in front of us.
At one side of the road in the dis
lance was the sea. and now and then
under the glow Of the sunset flashed
the running of the surf. At the other
side was sea of green reaching to
the far-off mountains, vast sea OF
rice fields, ripping into waves when
the breeze blew across it. Beyond