and not a little troubled.
Worried over Sada, hungry for Jack, lonesome for you. I passed one
of the gorgeous blue, green and yellow gates, at the entrance of a
temple. On one side is carved a distorted figure, that looks like
a cross between an elephant and a buzzard. It is called "Baku, the
eater of evil dreams." My word! but I could furnish him a feast
that would give him the fanciest case of indigestion he ever knew!

Mate, you would have to see Nikko, with its majestic cryptomarias,
sheltering the red and gold lacquer temples; you would have to feel
the mystery of the gray-green avenues, and have its holy silences
fall like a benediction upon a restless spirit, to realize what
healing for soul and body is in the very air, to understand why I
joyfully loitered for two hours and came back sane and hungry, but
wet as a fish.

Write me about the only man, the kiddies and your own blessed happy
self.

I agree with Charity. "Ef you want to spile a valuable wife, tu'n
her loose in a patch of idlesomeness."

STILL AT NIKKO, August, 1911.

You beloved girl, I have heard from Jack and my heart is singing a
ragtime tune of joy and thanksgiving. How he laughed at me for
being too foolishly lonesome to stay in America without him. Oh,
these, men! Does he forget he raged once upon a time, when he was
in America without me? As long as I am here though, he wants me to
have as good a time as possible. Do anything I want, and--blessed
trusting man!--buy anything I see that will fit in the little house
at home.

Can you believe it? After a fierce battle the sun won out this
morning, and even the blind would know by the dancing feel of the
air that it was a glorious day. At eight o'clock, when the little
maids went up to the shrine, happy as kittens let out for a romp,
they forgot even to look Buddha-ward and took up their worship time
in playing tag. The old woman who uses the five-foot lake as the
family wash-tub, brought out all her clothes, the grand-baby, and
the snub-nosed poodle that wears a red bib, to celebrate the
sunshine by a carnival of washing.

I could not stand four walls a minute longer. I am down in the
garden writing you, in a tea-house made with three fishing-poles
and a bunch of straw. It is covered with pink morning-glories as
big as coffee cups.

It has been three weeks since my last letter and I know your
interest in Jack and germs is almost as great as mine. Jack has
been in