sly. It is such a holiday trip
all through not grim and human like the Boer war. Just quaint and
queer. A trip of cherry blossoms and Geisha girls. I send all my love
to you.

DICK.

SAN FRANCISCO, February 26th.

DEAR MOTHER:

We got in here last night at midnight just as easily as though we were
coming into Jersey City. Before we knew it we had seen the Golden
Gate, and were snug in this hotel. Today as soon as we learned we
could not sail we started in to see sights and we made a record and
hung it up high. We went to the Cliff House and saw the seals on the
rocks below, to the Park, the military reservation, Chinatown, and the
Poodle Dog Restaurant. We also saw the Lotta monument, the Stevenson
monument, the Spreckles band stand, the place where the Vigilance
Committee hung the unruly, and tonight I went to a dinner the Bohemian
Club gave to the War correspondents. I made a darned good speech.
Think of ME making a speech of any sort, but I did, and I had sense
enough not to talk about the war but the "glorious climate of
California" instead and of all the wonders of Frisco. So, I made a
great hit. It certainly is one of the few cities that lives up to it's
reputation in every way. I should call it the most interesting city,
with more character back of it than any city on this continent. There
are only four deck rooms and we each have one. The boat is small, but
in spite of the crowd that is going on her, will I think be
comfortable. I know it will be that, and it may be luxurious.

DICK.

On way to Japan.

March 13th, 1904.

About four this afternoon we saw an irregular line of purple mountains
against a yellow sky, and it was Japan. In spite of the Sunday papers,
and the interminable talk on board, the guide books and maps which had
made Japan nauseous to me, I saw the land of the Rising Sun with just
as much of a shock and thrill as I first saw the coast of Africa. We
forgot entirely we had been twenty days at sea and remembered only that
we were ten miles from Japan, only as far as New Bedford is from
Marion. We are at anchor now, waiting to go in in the morning. Were
it not for war we could go in now but we must wait to be piloted over
the sunken mines. That and the flashlights moving from the cruisers
ten miles away gave us our first idea of war. To-morrow early we will
be off for Tokio, as it is only forty miles from Yokohama. Of course,
I may get all sorts of news before