to jar the feelings of the calmest Buddha. You can imagine what it did to a hightension Westerner.

Not a question about it. The country has been racing along to progress at such a giddy speed it has almost forgotten that the picturesque and the artistic were its two biggest offerings. Past masters as the Japanese are in adapting themselves to changes of time and circumstance theirs or anybody's-isn't it a thousand pities they cannot make progress tally with beauty? That sounds as if I had a grievance. I have. But I am in a commercial port. And it's winter. The picture-book country is hid. Spring is coming! Something tells me a gracious spirit will open wide the drab covers and show me once again the Rainbow Land that is truly a gift of the gods.

With a bang we noisily crunched into a mud-colored wharf. Maybe it was the shivering crowd, possibly the bitter wind which made a picture dreary and colorless. Whatever the cause, my anticipations and enthusiasm were fast accumulating icicles, when a part of a Japanese conversation drifted my way.

"So! You make convenient to arrive last day of Goat Year! I congratulate. Him make many troubles for long time."

Instantly I was cheered. As always, I found comfort in having something to hold responsible for all misfortunes. The goat could easily bear it and after five hours' struggle with passport officials, customs, and jinrikisha men, polite but high prices, you can't blame me for rejoicing that William's hours were numbered. Nor for hoping his spirit would pass out and hasten to the place, hot or cold, to join the spirit of the ancient son of Nippon who in the long ago labeled every

year with the name of a serpent or animal.

The little streets through which I rode are just as alley-like as ever. I reached my hotel only to find its one-time wideopen hospitality inclosed in a solid glass front. However, once inside, the warmth of the familiar lobby, the kindly, smiling service of its attendants, went a long way toward banishing the evil spirit of the goat and quickly dispelled all physical discomfort. True, the dispelling act commanded triple the price of former years one yen barely covering the doorman's tip, whereas I've often boasted to you a little ten-sen silver piece produced as many smiles and bows as would an unexpected legacy.

Mark it as a certainty, my friend, something has changed everything. But I did not stop to argue whether the blame should be placed on the back of the goat or the burden of the war. Each

minute I was giving thanks for the blessings that were, a few left-over ones and a

new one or so.

Perched over the big entrance door, a Russian orchestra played. The melody flooded all space and smoothed out the crinkles in one's soul as only such music can, and there are some few million crinkles in this

a

part of the world that need smoothing. Many of the musicians were refugees from ruined land. Absence from home did not mar the beauty of their music, but it did seem to deepen their smile of halfcontent. Nothing surprising in that. Over here the Reds can't get them if they don't look out. A group of uniformed French aviators gave a dash of color to the scene. And the stir they created as they talked as vigorously with their hands as with

their tongues, gave intense amusement to four English Tommies each of whom had a leg or an arm missing.

Only by determination and good luck had she escaped the horrors of a German victory. Hiding by day, walking at night, living off any morsel of food she could pilfer, she finally struck a village by the sea. A Japanese freighter did the rest, and Yokohama was the port of safety, with a small official job in the bargain. Every

time there is a revolution in Siberia, which is oftener than one can keep tab, there comes a-knocking at the gates of a northern and southern port ships filled with frightened humanity, fleeing from the bloody Reds. And as this little country is already so crowded, people are about to fall in the sea for lack of standing-room, it is a grave question how to dispose of the despairing hordes, homeless, moneyless, and often foodless.

But all honor to Nippon and the people therein! The refugees go neither hungry nor shelterless, though the task is one Hercules might take a day off to think

I wish you could have seen one woman guest. She was said to belong to the brave Battalion of Death. It was not hard to believe. She was booted and bloused as a soldier of the late mighty Czar. There was no hint of color in her handsome face, though she danced constantly, stopping only to change partners-and they were many-then swinging out again to the rhythm of the music as if marching to war.

over.

4

But on with the dance. I marveled at a soldier of foreign extract. A string of decorations ornamented his uniform from shoulder to breast-bone. As many scars criss-crossed his face, but nothing deterred his two good feet from keeping perfect time as he skilfully guided his companion with his one good arm. Handicapped? Not a bit of it. I asked

many bygone feasts of curious customs and outlandish foods. Long service gave him privileges, conversational and otherwise, just as it has your ebony JimmyLou. With unquiet eyes he watched a newly arrived youth pilot a girl through a very new dance. The girl, half West half East, was good to look upon. The dance was neither.

"Ah!" he muttered. "The war! It is accursed. Have it change your people to hopping monkeys and make many damn fooleys like mine?"

Never mind the "damn." It meant nothing to him. To me, not being in tune with the infinite, it proved an outlet. Still, with the kindly presence of the old man and his talk of olden days, when Oriental pictures had no Occidental frames, I was beginning to feel human once again. I sank deeper into the comfortable chair with something like a sense of things familiar. It wrapped me about

like a snug-fitting sweater. No desire to move stirred me. A telegram proved A telegram proved more effective. It was handed me by a messenger who measured all of a yard in height. His English vocabulary spread over a few inches only. It was his willing spirit which counted. He made a free offering of all his knowledge and gleefully assisted in reading the message. His bright eyes-what there was of them -twinkled.

"I know," he burst out. "Giro San! Him live by Tokio. Boss Lady Mish! Quick you go."

Good guess. Kate Jilson, born missionary and universal friend, bade me hasten to Tokio and spend New-Year's with her and as much longer as I choose. If I have told you much about her, the small boy's summing up tells you more. But not all. In other days she would have come herself, or sent a retainer to bring me hither like a package marked "handle with care." Evidently Kitty was going with the changing tide.

Now you see where my call comes in, and as I go to answer it off goes this letter. With it goes a promise to take you

right along with me into all that happens. Be sure things are bound to happen if the "Boss Lady Mish" is in the neighborhood. We can't tamper with Kate, nor can we halt the changes. But ours the fun of looking on as the show goes passing by.

The signals are flying. The small boy is waiting to take this letter to the steamer. Here is my love-and a hope that has just been wished on me: "May all pain be distant from important parts."

TOKIO

PATSY! Can't you see your old, duncolored Rosebud growing positively peevish as to heels if she had to submit to a morning bath and a curry-comb massage, then be haltered to a stall? That's the daily program of a Japanese dairyman for his herd. It is also the best of reasons why the toy steam-engine boasts neither cow-catcher nor bell, and hauls its abbreviated train, with not a wandering "Sukey" to block the traffic.

In years past this little train was the only means of transporting oneself from Yokohama to Tokio. It ambled its way

along the ancient Tokaido highroad into the great Eastern capital, arriving as it pleased, when it pleased, heedless alike of schedules and business engagements of its passengers.

This brilliant winter day I had been rushed through the tiled and concreted Cherry Tree Station, by an up-to-theminute red cap, into a highly polished car which lacked neither bulb, button, nor plush seat to make it the last thing in trolley fashion. And, take notice, the fashion does not stop at trolleys. Tokio's night sky blazes with signs, blue and red and orange, the characterwriting freakish enough to make the lightning jealous. Electric hibachis for heating relegated charcoal to the Dark Ages. The humblest rice-shop sports an electric machine for polishing grain, and there are electric stoves to cook it on. Verily the old Samurai stronghold is being electrified, and we, who so well remember the quiet charm of the by-gone lantern-jinrikisha days, re

But on the trolley time for emotion or memories was brief. The motorman was gleefully translating his New-Year spirit into speed and I was trying to hold on to my senses, a small suit-case, and a half-seat by the window.

There was just time for my eye to catch a glimpse of the curved sweep of temple roof, or the tiny, wayside shrines half hidden in pine-scented groves. Fallow rice-fields and winter wheat seemed only patches of brown and green. I made a rough guess that the bright, shapeless spots on the dark dresses of the workwomen were babies tied to Mamma San's back, and the streaks of color flashing down the roadside were children at play. Just one swift glance at peerless

through crowded suburbs of straw and plaster we landed at a brilliantly lighted station with a bump.

Hope the reading of it has not left you as breathless as the doing of it did me. I hustled to the platform. A voice hailed me. A hand grasped mine. "What made you so late? I thought you were never coming." This from Kitty Jilson! Would you think it? And she as familiar with all the ways of the East, straight or crooked, new or old, as I am with the path from my house to that shut-in but happy abode of yours.

Kate's clear eyes twinkled with her greeting, and she wore her twice-turned serge coat as jauntily as though it were silver fox. The unmissionary flare of her hat caught my eye. I could almost