elephant; don't you know that the elephant is the most sensitive of animals ?

I perfectly understand why newspapercutting bureaus are making a solid business in this country. They are securing bread and butter, I conclude, out of the foolishness of people, the vain wishes to hear what praise another has given. The Americans are so childishly honest-is honest the right word? They would gladly accept every good word spoken to them with straight doubtlessness, without any discrimination. What pitifully blind people who are so fatally unable to distinguish between flattery and the true praise! I value highly, however, the most gentle quality in Americans that never allows any suspicion of another's word. They are perfect angels in such matters. Really they will paste in their scrapbooks even a senseless babbling of a baby if it was concerned with them, and they will keep it in the safe. Scrapbook has an equal estimation to them as an heirloom, or diamond ring of grandmother.

If you will declare that the Chicagoans are ridiculous, that exactly means to put a verdict of "ridiculous on the heads of Americans. The Chicagoans who incessantly keep saying: "Look, just a moment; look, my dear visitor; am I not beautiful? How

do you think of me? Please, say I am good looking!"—as a dear little butterfly girl with red ribbon and straw hat—are verily ridiculous, are they not? To tell the truth, I was sickly tired in California with such a stupid, tasteless-like-wax, nonsensical question as, "How do you like America?" or "How long have you been?" Not because I have no correct answers, but truly because my sincere reply might make my interview tragic.

I tried so far to keep myself from being introduced to new people, simply because I hated to come face to face with such an eternal stereotyped question. And, alas, I found myself in the same ditch in this Chicago! Oh, how many commonplace encounters I had with the everlasting "How do you like Chicago?" and "How long do you expect to stay?" I almost decided to have my answers printed on paper and to show it before my new acquaintance began to throw the questions over me.

What opinion I have of Chicago? Shall I flatter? The Chicagoans will make a somewhat awkward, smiling face-and look with the twinkling eyes of satisfaction and conceit of "I expect so. And they will say in slow, haughty tones: "This is the most great city

-don't you know?" Shall I speak my true opinion? How my interview will end?

I must be a hermit in Chicago, although I have a heavy mission to investigate this big man-town. Why? Because I have no more desire to make enemies personally than to make more friends. Personal disagreement or quarrel is the most sad experiment. As for me, I have a proud, hard-to-bend backbone. I was born without flattery or sycophancy. I find it more difficult to please the Americans than to graduate from the University of Chicago. Yes, sir; I am too honest for the Americans—for the Chicagoans, if you please!

You, my dear Chicago people, don't come approaching me with the bothering questions on Chicago and the Chicagoans, but softly, gracefully step towards me, as your sweet summer evening breeze, with the much beautiful chat of divine star or angel rose!

I really wonder whether the average Chicagoan knows how roses look! Do you know, Chicagoan, that roses don't grow on the mountain top or in the river?

To say too much with almost any matter is far from to be admirable. The Tokio servant girls are despised, simply because they talk silly nonsense hanging around

the public well with water bucket in hand. Chattering is an offence in Japan, the land of pride and peace.

I am stopping now with my criticism on Chicago and the Chicagoans. To stop means to save my dignity. A poet ought to be silent. Was I of service to you, my dear friend? I pray that you will fully appreciate my frankness. Good-bye! May nothing worse befall you!

V

MY FIRST LONDON EXPERIENCE (1903)

My art of making myself at home even in an impossible place, which my long sojourn in lands strange and new taught me, alas! in spite of myself, seemed to fail flatly in London. I thought she (more likely London is he), like Japan of many temperaments, had been indulging herself in bad humour, perhaps in sorrow of reminiscence on the August passed, or perhaps in chronic fear of coming winter, as the month of my arrival was November. I stood silent in thought that my slight movement of affection might make her more disagreeable; I kept at a distance as much as I could. I slowly felt that I was out of place, when I imagined a certain hostility between myself and London. I was so sorry in leaving Boston, and even New York, until one day when, long after my hunt for a hidden affinity which I fancied I might discover in the rôle of sightseer, had ended, every