k you for the sop of that Christian
brotherhood preached by white men. We intend to force recognition of
what we are by what we do. We ask no favors, but we now serve you
notice we are in to play the game."

Neither is this conversation a free translation. Shorn of diplomatic
kotowing and compliments and circumlocutions, it is exactly what the
Mikado's representative served to the representatives of three great
governments--Uncle Sam's, John Bull's, Miss Canada's. If you ask how I
know, I answer--direct from one of the three men sent to Japan.

Can you see the white men's eyes pop out of their heads with
astonishment? They thought they were up against a case of labor union
jealousy, and they found themselves involved in a complex race problem,
dealing with three aggressive applicants for places at the councils of
rulers governing the world. California was ordered to turn on the soft
pedal and do it quick, and officially, at least, she did for a time.
Canada was ordered to lay both hands across her mouth and never to
speak above a whisper of the whole Brown Brother problem; and
England--well--England openly took the Jappy-Chappy at his
word--recognized him as a world brother and entered into the famous
alliance. And the coming of coolies suddenly stopped to the United
States and Canada. It didn't stop to South America and Mexico, but
that is another play of the game with facts for chessmen.

Chinese exclusion, Japanese exclusion, Hindu exclusion suddenly became
party shibboleths--always for the party _out_ of power, never for the
party _in_ power. The party in power kept a special Maxim silencer on
the subject of Oriental immigration. The politician in office kept one
finger on his lip and wore rubber-soled shoes whenever an almond-eyed
was mentioned. With that beautiful consistency which only a politician
has, a good British Columbia member, who rode Oriental exclusion as his
special hobbyhorse, employed a Jap cook. In the midst of his stump
campaign against Orientals he found in the room of his cook original
drawings of Fort Esquimalt, of Vancouver Harbor and of Victoria back
country. I was in British Columbia at the time. The funny thing to me
was--all British Columbia was so deadly in earnest it didn't see the
funny side of the inconsistency.

III

I was up and down the Pacific the year the Mikado died, and chanced to
be in San Diego the month that a Japanese warship put into port because
its co