ayers to Kwan-yin for the
blessing of a son. There is a pilgrimage to the Kwem-li Pagoda. I can
see it in the distance, with its lotus bells that sway and ring with each
light breath of wind. One does not think of it as a thing of brick and
mortar, or as a many-storied temple, but as a casket whose jewels
are the prayers of waiting, hoping women.

You ask me how I pass my days? I cannot tell. At dawn, I wake with
hope and listen to the song of the meadow-lark. At noon, I dream of
my great happiness to come. At sunset, I am swept away into the
land of my golden dreams, into the heart of my golden world that
is peopled with but three-- Thou, Him, and Me. I am drifting happily,
sleepily, forgetting care, waiting for the Gods to bring my joy.

Thy Wife.

21.
My Dear One,
My courtyard is filled with the sounds of chatting women. I have sent
for the sewiing-women and those who do embroidery, and the days
are passed in making little garments. We are all so busy; Li-ti, Mah-li,
even thine Honourable Mother takes again the needle and shows us
how she broidered jackets for thee when thou wert young. The piles of
clothing grow each day, and I touch them and caress them and
imagine I can see them folding close a tiny form. There are jackets,
trousers, shoes, tiny caps and thick warm blankets.

I send for Blind Chun, the story-teller, and he makes the hours pass
quickly with his tales of by-gone days. The singers and the
fortune-tellers all have found the path that leads up to our gateway,
knowing they will find a welcome.

[Illustration: Mylady13.]

I am,
Thy Happy Wife.

22
I send thee cherry-blossoms. They grew within thy courtyard, and
each tiny petal will bring to thee remembrance of thy wife who loves
thee well.

23
If thou couldst see my courtyard! It seems carpeted with snow, so
many are the cherry-blossoms on its pavement. They say I am untidy
that I permit it to be untouched by broom or brush. It is cleaned and
spotless all the year, save at this the time of cherry-blossoms, when
'tis untrodden and unswept.

I cannot write thee merely household cares and gossip. I am so filled
with happiness, I can only dream and wonder. Joy is beating with his
wings just outside my open window, and soon all the gates of Heaven
will be opened wide to me.

Thy Wife.

24
He is here, beloved, thy son! I put out my hand and touch him, and
the breath of the wind through the pine-trees brings the music of the
Gods t