can get it.



YOKOHAMA, July 5, 1905.


Do you suppose, if people could, they would write letters as soon as
they got to Heaven! I don't know where to begin nor what to say. The
only thing about me that is on earth is this pen point, the rest is
floating around in a diamond-studded, rose-colored mist!

I will try to be sensible and give you some idea of what has been
happening, but how I am to get it on paper I don't know. I got here
yesterday, the 4th of July, on the early train, and rushed down to the
hatoba to meet the launch when it came in from the steamer. I had had
no breakfast and was as nervous as a witch. Your letter had not come,
and my fears were increasing every moment.

Well I took my place on the steps as the launch landed and waited,
with very little interest I must confess, for your young missionary to
appear. By and by I saw a handkerchief tied to a sleeve, but it was a
man's sleeve. I gave one more look, and my heart seemed to
stop. "Jack!" I cried, and then everything went black before me, and I
didn't know anything more. It was the first time I ever fainted;
sorrow and grief never knocked me out, but joy like that was enough to
kill me!

When I came to, I was at the hotel and I didn't dare open my eyes--I
knew it was all a dream, and I did not want to come back to reality. I