a young native teacher sought to while away the hours for a homesick
exile. She was girlish and fair, with the soft voice and gentle,
indescribable charm characteristic of the women of her race. Her tales
were of the kindergarten, happenings in her life and the lives of
others, and I have sought to set them down as she told them to me in
her quaint, broken English. But they miss the earnest eyes and dramatic
gestures of the little story-teller as she sat in the glow of the
hibachi fire, with a background of paper doors, with shadow pictures
of pine-trees and bamboo etched by the moonlight, the far-off song of
a nightingale, and the air sweet with incense from nearby shrines.

He wear name of Tãke Nishimura, which in English say' Mr. Bamboo of the
West Village. He most funny little boy in my kindergarten class. But he
have such sweet heart. It all time speaking out nice thoughtfuls through
his big round eyes, which no seem like Japanese eyes of long and narrow.

His so much slim of body make him look like baby. But his mama say' he
been here four years. She nice lady and loving mother. One more thing
why that child's most funny small enfant. He have papa who is great
general of war, with big spirit. Tãke Chan fixed idea in his head he's
just same kind big warrior man. He use same walk and the same command
of speak.

This time I relate you about was most Christmas-time. I tell story to
children of long time ago, when big star say to all worlds Christ baby
lay in manger, and I say soon we celebrate joyful day in kindergarten.
That little Tãke Chan never hear 'bout it before, and he get look in
his face same as John boy in picture what always have crooked stick
in his hand, and he speak this word: "A new God? Will He be our guest
on feast-day?"