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gave five thousand four hundred tsubs (four near by which can be secured when the and one-half acres) of land; the two Iwasaki brothers gave fifteen thousand yen; Baron Shibusawa, two thousand five hundred yen; and Mr. Furukawa, three thousand five hundred yen. Other contributions came in rapidly, til more than one hundred thousand yen had been secured. Building began in September, 1900, and was finished in April, 1901, and the school was opened in that same month.
school expands so much as to need more space. Not all of the projected buildings have yet been erected because the funds raised have not sufficed. The present buildings are not the main ones; they comprise a recitation hall, a physical laboratory, three residences, and two large dormitories. Although the buildings are not up to the ideal for beauty or elegance, yet so far as light and ventilation are concerned they are excellent. In front of the recitation hall is a large yard with many trees, reminding one of college grounds in America. Back of this building is a beautiful flower-garden, beyond which stands the long line of dormitories. At one end of these is the president's house, and at the other end the dean's.
The faculty number forty-six in all, among whom are several professors of the Imperial University. The president is, of course, Mr. Naruse, and the dean is Professor S. Aso, a Doshisha alumnus. There are also several women among the faculty, and it is the purpose to have as many women teachers
One peculiarity of this school is that every one connected therewith has a feeling of proprietorship. Even the contractors felt so deep an interest that one contributed five hundred yen, and another the front gate. Newspapers and magazines charged not one sen for the advertisements calling for pupils. And all the teachers are satisfied with only a nominal remuneration.
The location is a fine one, upon a ridge called Mejiro Dai, in the outskirts of the Kvishikawa district of Tokyo; it was chosen because it was the best for the purpose. There is, moreover, a large lot of land
as possible. There are two foreign teachers, Mrs. C. M. Cady, formerly of Kyoto, and Mrs. Leonard of Tokyo. The chairman of the board of trustees is Count Okuma.
There are three departments in the university course: 1. Department of Domestic Science. 2. Department of Japanese Literature. 3. Department of English Literature. In each department there are twenty-one hours of required studies and seven hours of electives, per week. The school session is from 8 A. M. to 12 M., and for some classes from 1 P. M. to 4 P. M., every day except Sunday. In the first department the greater part of the time is devoted to various practical branches of applied and domestic science; in the second and third departments the principal study is Japanese and English, respectively. Ethics, sociology, mental philosophy, and education (including child-study) are required studies in all departments, and drawing, music, and the science of teaching are electives in all
It was expected that there would be at first about thirty students for each department, but the number of candidates was very large so that more than one hundred applicants were received for each of the first two departments - over two hundred in all -- and then no further applications were accepted. There is also a preparatory department with about three hundred students. The total number at present is over five hundred and fifty, of whom two hundred and twenty are boarders.
The boarding department includes seven "houses," each with a matron and a head cook. The girls live just as at home and take turns in cooking. As the dormitories cannot accommodate all the applicants, temporary quarters have been secured near by in a house with large grounds, belonging to a certain baron, but unoccupied because the house is haunted! For this reason it has been secured at the low rent of twentyfive yen ($12.50) per month. Here Professor Matsuma of the English department lives with his family and several girls. It is con
OFFICERS, TEACHERS, AND STUDENTS.
fidently expected that education will, as is school, six years in the secondary school usual, succeed in laying the ghosts! (Koto Jo Gakko), three years in the university, with a post-graduate course of three years. Then surely the institution will be worthy to be called a university.
This school is not, of course, to be compared with foreign universities nor with the Imperial University; nor is it a copy of other universities, but it is intended to make this institution just suited to the needs of the time and the social conditions of Japanese women. The standard will be gradually elevated. In the system of female education it is a university, at least in germ.
The raison d'être of this university for Japanese women was clearly set forth in Count Okuma's address at the opening
It is the purpose as soon as possible to increase the number of courses, or departments; to add, for instance, pedagogy (including sociology, psychology, etc.), music, science, art, and calisthenics. It is intended also to extend the preparatory course downward, so that it shall include, not a Koto Gakko only, as at present, but also a Sho Gakko (grammar school) and a kindergarten. Thus the system of female education will be complete in all its grades: from the age of three to that of six in the kindergarten, six years in the grammar
ceremony. He pointed out that all countries, such as Turkey, Africa, Persia, and even China, which had attempted to work with the male sex as the single standard," had "fallen signally behind in the march of prog
ress," and that "Japan, by raising woman This first Japanese university for women to her proper place, should provide herself needs many more buildings and a larger with a double standard. He also empha- equipment. But the best guarantee for the sized the fact that the only effective medi- future is in the reputation and character of cine for social abuses was in "a radical the school; it is very fortunate that reform of family life through an improve- Christian men and women are prominent in ment in the status of women. its management.
OUT OF SEASON AT CHAUTAUQUA.
BY FRANCES MEEKER HAWLEY.
NE warm and sunny day in April, 1899, a weary, half-sick woman and husband and children, turned their backs upon the great, noisy, bustling railroad center of New York State and set their faces toward Chautauqua.
Many times before had they traveled the same road, bound for the same destination, but always in June. The journey at this time of the year was a unique experience. Familiar scenes passed in rapid transition before them. Here and there, in the more sheltered nooks, patches of snow were defiantly holding their own against the persuasive eloquence of the sunshine, while woods, fields, and vineyards were all touched with a suggestion of the coming spring.
Among the children excitement ran high, and many were the conjectures concerning the trip. Were the boats running, and, if not, how were they to get from Mayville to Chautauqua? When the paterfamilias suggested as a possible last resort a big farm wagon carrying trunks and boxes and bundles, baby-carriage and bicycles, with the family perched on top, he was answered by a shout of glee from all excepting the timid mother who felt that that would be "the last straw." Her fears were quieted, however, when on alighting at the station at Mayville a comfortable three-seated carriage was found waiting for Uncle Sam's mail-bags, and, incidentally, any passengers who might be going the same way. What a delight to the children and their elders also, that threemile drive on an April day! The lake was blue as blue could be and the sky likewise.
As they drove into the Assembly grounds through the upper gate (which stood wideopen and was minus a man in a blue uniform with a ticket punch in his hand) and on down through the grounds, quite a different scene from the one they usually saw met their eyes. The tall trees were bare of foliage, but the tiny shrubs were putting on their spring dresses. The thick carpet of leaves underneath them which had protected their roots all the winter was now variegated with lovely May flowers, with here and there an uncovered spot bright with fresh grass.
After leaving the mail bags at the postoffice the carriage drove around by the lake front, selecting those roads that had been least impaired by the recent rains. Over toward the south they were slowly driven. What a glorious panorama! The lake, dimpling and sparkling and glistening in the sunshine, as if the very heart of nature throbbed beneath its waters, lay stretched out upon the left; while upon the right the natural terrace was covered with flowers flowers everywhere.
Presently, however, all were bundled out in front of the cottage, which had been closed since the preceding September. Pockets were searched for long unused keys, and in a moment doors were opened, papers pulled down from windows, a table spread, and a substantial lunch made ready from a basket that had been carefully guarded all the way.
All that day and all the spring there weren't dishes enough in the house to hold the flowers that the children gathered.
Violets, hepaticas, spring beauties, trilliums, afternoon as I was returning along the lake
Dutchman's breeches, Jack-in-the-pulpits, shore.
Few, I imagine, of Chautauqua's votaries dream of the rare loveliness of the place during those months when deserted by pleasure-seekers. As the steamer bears them away from its enchanting shores they breathe a sigh of regret that the weeks have been so short, and that summer vacations may not last the year through; but if they think of Chautauqua out of season at all, it is of its closed cottages, empty halls, deserted groves, and lonely walks. It would be difficult for them to believe that then the sweetest, richest life may come to the one who is wise enough to linger.
The weary, nervous lecture-devourer has an opportunity for rest and invigorating exercise. The weather is cooler; the lengthened shadows, and, here and there, a changing leaf, suggest autumn. There is no difficulty now in finding a seat, and one may read or dream or watch the ever changeful lake now still and glassy as a mirror, now covered with rippling waves; or, as I have seen it in some great storm, with breakers dashing so high that no small boat could live upon its waters.
I doubt if there is a more beautiful sheet of water to be found than Chautauqua lake. Its peaceful shores, rising terrace above terrace, covered with fields and woods and picturesque cottages, are especially beautiful in the fall. I know of no other location that boasts a greater variety of trees, and each has its own individual taste in color. It would require the brush of a Titian to do justice to the charming views that are to be seen on any fair day at this time of year. Here is an extract from a letter written on the sixth of last November to a friend, who is also a true lover of nature:
"I cannot resist the desire to share with you the exquisite picture that I saw this
"Imagine yourself walking toward the south from the Arcade, the scene bounded on the left by the pier and on the right by the picturesque old power-house. In the foreground is Palestine Park, with its undulating surface covered with a rich velvety green. Two dark evergreens stand guard at the left of Mt. Hermon. The water near the shore is of a most exquisite heliotrope tint, and beyond are alternating strips of silver and steel-gray, reaching quite to the opposite shore.
"The setting sun was not visible, but its rays illuminated the belfry tower and lighted up the browns and purples of the woods and fields. The water was very smooth, having only the slightest little ripples upon its surface. You would have called it glorious."
The sunsets are gorgeous, and trips up and down the lake most delightful. An extract from another letter written two weeks later may be of interest.
When the boat pulled out from Jamestown yesterday the outlook was bleak and dreary. The reflection of the trees and shrubbery upon the still waters of the outlet was beautiful, however, and I watched it until we reached the open. Then I became absorbed in Childe Harold' until we neared Bemis Point. As the boat turned the point, the rays of the setting sun shot out through the clouds and illuminated the pages I was reading I hurried to the window and there beheld a most glorious sight. The lake was a dark, dull, gray, excepting along the shore where a streak of light was reflected from the sky. The hills were covered with groups of bare and leafless trees contrasting sharply with the pure white snow. As a background the magnificent sky, crimson and yellow, shading off into the softest tints, and stretching away to the left a bank of the bluest clouds I ever saw; just the color of the sky in midsummer- the richest, deepest blue."