the call of that germ-ridden spot of the unholy name beat into my
brain with the persistency of a tom-tom on a Chinese holiday.

Say what you will, Mate, it once took all my courage to leave those
I loved best and go to far-away Japan. Now it required more than I
could dig up to _stay_--with the best on the other side of the
Pacific.

The struggle was easy and swift. The tom-tom won and I am on my
way to be next-door neighbor to Jack. Those whom it concerned here
were away from home, so I told no one good-by, thus saving
everybody so much wasted advice. If there were a tax on advice the
necessities of life would not come so high. Charity followed me to
the train, protesting to the last that "Marse Jack gwine doubt her
velocity when she tell him de truf bout her lady going a-gaddin'
off by herse'f and payin' no mind to her ole mammy's
prosterations." I asked her to come with me as maid. She refused;
said her church was to have an ice-cream sociable and she had "to
fry de fish." This letter will find you joyfully busy with the
babies and the "only man." Blest woman that you are.

But I know you. I have a feeling that you have a few remarks to
make. So hurry up. Let us get it off our minds. Then I can
better tell you what I am doing. Something is going to happen. It
usually does when I am around. I have been asked to chaperone a
young girl whose face and name spell romance. If I were seeking
occupation here is the opportunity knocking my door into splinters.

STILL AT SEA. June, 1911.

Any time you are out of a job and want to overwork all your
faculties and a few emotions, try chaperoning a young room-mate
answering to the name of Sada San, who is one-half American dash,
and the other half the unnamable witchery of a Japanese woman; a
girl with the notes of a lark in her voice when she sings to the
soft twang of an old guitar.

If, too, you are seeking to study psychological effect of such a
combination on people, good, middlin' and otherwise, I would
suggest a Pacific liner as offering fifty-seven varieties, and then
some.

The last twinge of conscience I had over coming, died a cheerful
death. I 'd do it again. For not only is romance surcharging the
air, but fate gives promise of weaving an intricate pattern in the
story of this maid whose life is just fairly begun and whom the
luck of the road has given me as traveling mate. Now, remembering
a few biffs fate has given me, I have no