color of sunshine; one look into Kishimoto San's face
assured me it was neither springtime nor rosetime in the path he was
treading.

My visitor was a busy man of many affairs, and I a woman much occupied;
but custom said that a ceremonial visit must be just so long, and
Kishimoto would rather break his neck once a week than a rule of
etiquette once a life-time.

So we fell to talking of a recent trip he had made to Yokohama. He said
a great foreign fleet was visiting the port. The festivities and the
gaieties were unending. He had been only a looker-on, but a
deeply-interested observer.

He spoke of how his country had strained its every resource to give
welcome to this fleet, making a neighborly call, though armed to the
ship's last rail. He continued:

"The whole scene give me reminder of one very small boy who had grand
record of good fight, also he has the great exhaustion of strength from
last battle with tall giant. Small boy has poverty too, but he draw
forth his many ancient toy for guest to play. Makes big debt of money to
give him feast. He very much desire to keep face of big boy all covered
with smiles."

Then from the way my visitor half shut his eyes and looked at me, I knew
something more was coming.

"Americans are a great people, but disagree with their wonderfulness."

"You mean they are inconsistent?" I suggested.

Kishimoto San, being too much in earnest to search for the proper
English, dropped into Japanese--

"Yes, the old proverb fits them, 'A physician breaking the rules of
health.'"

"Why do you say that of my people?" I asked in a moment on the
defensive.

"Because you literally strain your bodies to hold very high a moral
standard for other nations, that you, yourselves fail to follow."

"What do you mean?"

He went on slowly:

"I was wondering if it is the custom in your country for ladies to smoke
and drink liquor in public places?"

"Ladies!" I repeated amazed. "American women smoke and drink in public
or other places! Certainly not," I declared emphatically. "Why do you
hint at such a thing?"

Thirty years' absence from my country had glorified my ideal of its
womanhood.

"Only this," said Kishimoto San, "several times while in Yokohama I had
occasion to visit the Ocean Hotel. On the broad veranda facing the sea
were seated numbers of great men and ladies together, many of them were
smoking and I could not count the number of cocktails they consumed."

"They we