Letters from the Far East . oon we took a walk and stepped into the CatholicChurch on our way home. Here we saw various kindsof people: Japanese, Chinese, and some of doubtfulnationality. As we came out, we heard the notes of a bugle, andjust before reaching the gate of the hotel, we met along procession of school children, who had been toYokohama Park. We stood while they passed by; and a pretty sightit was. First, came the larger boys, carrying gunsover their shoulders; these were followed by thesmaller children, boys and girls, down to the very littleones; all happy, laughing children. Ther
Letters from the Far East . oon we took a walk and stepped into the CatholicChurch on our way home. Here we saw various kindsof people: Japanese, Chinese, and some of doubtfulnationality. As we came out, we heard the notes of a bugle, andjust before reaching the gate of the hotel, we met along procession of school children, who had been toYokohama Park. We stood while they passed by; and a pretty sightit was. First, came the larger boys, carrying gunsover their shoulders; these were followed by thesmaller children, boys and girls, down to the very littleones; all happy, laughing children. There were hun-dreds of them. A little after 3 a. m., on October 17, we werewakened by an earthquake of considerable house shook, and the windows rattled; and al-though we knew Japan was noted for its earthquakes,we were decidedly glad when it was over. We felttwo others of less violence in the time of our wished we might have visited Japan at the seasonof cherry-blossoms and wisteria, as we always see it24. LETTERS FROM THE FAR EAST 25 pictured, instead of at the time of typhoons, earth-quakes, and rain. For the rain continued. These two extremes in Japan have been graphicallyset forth in two little poems called The Optimisticand Pessimistic Versions of Fair Japan. The Op-timistic Version is as follows : Oh, fair Japan ; Oh, rare Japan ; Thou land of ancient trees,Where lotus-blossoms fringe thy paths And perfume every breeze. Where lilies bend their fragrant heads To kiss thy plashing streams,And dark-skinned Musurves, almond-eyed, Wake long-forgotten dreams. Thy hills, crown-cappd with sacred groves, Enclose thy gilded shrines;In grottos where the iris blooms, Droop sweet wisteria vines. Mysterious languor seems to hang Oer mountain, plain, and rill;An unreality of life, Does all the senses fill. Thine ancient shrines to Buddha blest, Glinted with golden fire,Proclaim a soul-sustaining rest, And ecstasy inspire. Oh! sweet it is to dwell with thee, Land of th
Size: 1116px × 2238px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorevansali, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookyear1919
