The questions were about like this: Who was your father? What are you
doing out of your own country? Was anybody in your family ever hung?
How many teeth have you?

I wrote rapidly until I got to "When were you born?" Button-Head was
standing by me, so I looked up at him helplessly and told him that was
one thing I _never_ could remember. He said I would have to, and
I said I couldn't. He pranced around for fifteen minutes, and I
pretended to be racking my brain.

Then he handed me a Bible, and said in a stern voice: "Swear." I told
him that I couldn't, that I never had sworn, that ladies didn't do it
in America, wouldn't he please do it for me?

About this time Miss Dixon spoiled the fun by laughing, so I had to
behave. After we had spent two hours and three dollars in that dingy
old office, we departed, but our troubles were not over. No sooner had
we reached the hotel than Button-Head appeared with more papers. "You
failed to describe yourself," he mournfully announced, handing me
another slip.

I had not had my dinner and I was cross, but I seized a pen determined
to make short work of it. How tall? Easily told. Black or white? Very
easy. Kind of chin? Round and rosy. Shape of face? Depends on time
and place. Hair? Pure gold. Eyes? Now I knew they were green but that
did not sound poetic enough so I appealed to Dixie. She thought for a
while, then said, "Not gray nor brown, I have it, they are syrup
colored!" So I put it down along with a lot of other nonsense.

Now the papers have to be sent to Tokyo for approval, then back here