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ENGLISH ÂéÉúÏ£mxgs795On entering Hazlehurst I observed all about the railway-station a surprising amount of quartermaster's stores. A large part were cases of boots and shoes. Laden with such goods, a train of shabby box-cars stood facing south, its beggarly wood-burner engine sniffing and weeping, while the cork-legged conductor helped all hands wood up. Though homely, the picture was a stirring one. Up through the blue summer morning came the sun, bringing to mind the words of the dying Mirabeau, "If that is not God, at least it's his first cousin."
It was determined that the evening would be quite early enough to go to the theatre, and so the party did not start until after seven o'clock. They secured a box at one side of the auditorium, where they could see the stage and the audience at the same time. When you go to the play in a strange land, the audience is frequently quite as interesting a study as the performance, and sometimes more so. In no country is this more truly the case than in Japan. But it was agreed that Fred should give the account of the play, and so we will listen to him. Here is his story:THE MAN THEY MET. THE MAN THEY MET.
There are several small temples and shrines on the island, and the most of them are in picturesque spots in the forest, or on crags that overlook the sea. As they walked about they met parties of pilgrims on their way to these shrines; and on the summit they found a shaded resting-place, where some chairs had been set out on a cliff overlooking the broad waters of the Pacific. Two or three servants were in attendance, and our party thought they could not do better than stop awhile and sip some of the fragrant tea of Japan. So they sat down, and in a few moments the tea was before them. The tea-house was not a large one, and, as Frank expressed it, the most of the house was out of doors and under the shade of the trees.
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"They have a great deal of embroidered and figured silk; and when you go into a shop, these are the first things they show you. Some of the work is magnificent; and when you look at it and learn the price, it does not take you long to conclude that the labor of Kioto is not very highly paid. There are many silk-weavers here, and we have visited some of the factories. The largest that we saw contained twenty looms, about half of them devoted to brocades and other figured work, and the rest to plain silks. The looms for ordinary work are quite plain and simple; those for the figured silks are somewhat complicated, and require two persons to operate them. One sits in the usual position in front of the loom, and the other up aloft; each of them has a pattern of the work, and there is a bewildering lot of threads which must be pulled at the right time. The process is very slow; and if these weavers could see a Jacquard loom, I think they would be astonished."What time in the evening must we go," said Fred, "so as to be there in season for the beginning of the performance?"
Her eyes danced, her brows arched. "Haven't you got"--she hid her smile with an embroidered handkerchief--"haven't you got your second figure upside down?" I glared, but with one look of hurt sisterliness she melted me. Then, pensive just long enough to say, "I was nineteen once," she shot me a sidelong glance so roguish that I was dumb with indignation and tried to find my mustache, forgetting I had shaved it off to stimulate it. She smiled in sweet propitiation and then came gravely to business. "Have you come from beyond the pickets?"
"Ain't you Major Harper's quartermaster-sergeant?" he asked."Cock-a-doodle-doo," thought I; "if those are not the same hundred-dollar boots I saw yesterday morning, at least they are their first cousins!"
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"The war-correspondent," whispered Gholson; "don't you know?" But the flap of the tent lifted and I could not reply.
As the rider wheeled away I blurted out with anxious loudness in the general hubbub, "Isn't his brother with him?"A STREET IN HAN-KOW. A STREET IN HAN-KOW.I made no reply. He looked momentous, leaned to me sidewise with a hand horizontally across his mouth, and whispered a name. It was new to me. "Charlie Toliver?" I murmured, for we were at the tent door.
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