f his kind have done before:
regardless of obstacles and consequences marry the girl off to the
highest bidder; rid himself of all responsibility and make a profit
at the same time. From his point of view it is the only thing to
do. He would be the most astonished uncle in Mikado-land if
anybody suggested to him that Sada had any rights or feelings in
the matter. He would tell you that as Sada's only male relative,
custom gave him the right to dispose of her as he saw fit, and
custom is law and there is nothing back of _that_!

So far I have played only a thinking part in the drama. But I will
not stand by and see the girl, whose very loneliness is a plea,
sacrificed without some kind of a struggle to help her. At the
present writing I feel about as effective as a February lamb, and
every move calls for tact. Wish I had been born with a needle wit
instead of a Roman nose! For if Uncle has a glimmer of a suspicion
that I would befriend Sada at the cost of his plans, so surely as
the river is lost in the sea, Sada would disappear from my world
until it was too late for me to lend a hand.

Good-by, Mate. At eventide, as of old, look my way and send me
strength from your vast store of calm courage and common sense.
The odds are against me, but the god of luck has never yet failed
to laugh with me.

September, 1911.

I am in a monastery, Mate, but only temporarily, thank you. It is
a blessing to the cause that Fate did not turn me into a monk or a
sister or any of those inconvenient things with a restless
religion, that wakes you up about 3 A.M. on a wintry dawn to pray
shiveringly to a piece of wood, to the tune of a thumping drum.
Some morning when the frost was on the cypress that carven image
would disappear!

For one time at least I would have a nice fire, and my prayers
would not be decorated with icicles.

For two weeks my friends and I have been tramping through
picture-book villages and silk-worm country, and over mountain
winding ways, sleeping on the floor, sitting on our feet and giving
our stomachs surprise parties with hot, cold and lukewarm rice,
seaweed and devil-fish.

It has been one hilarious lark of outdoor life, with nothing to pin
us to earth but the joy of being a part of so beautiful a world.

The road led us through superb forests, over the Bridge of Paradise
to Koyo San, whose peak is so far above the mist-wreathed valleys
that it scrapes the clouds as they float by. But