has the most rigid, cast-iron, inelastic conscience that I ever came
across. I wish he would take a rest. You see out here, so far away
from you all, I can't help worrying when any of you are the least bit
sick. Jack has been on my mind for days. Don't tell him that I asked
you to, but won't you get him to go away? He would curl his hair if
you asked him to.

Preparations for war are still in progress and it makes a fellow
pretty shivery to see it coming closer and closer. Hiroshima will be
the center of military movements and of course under military law. It
will affect us only as to the restrictions put on our walks and places
we can go. With the city so full of strange soldiers, I don't suppose
we will want to go much. Two big war ships, which Japan has just
bought from Chili are on their way from Shanghai. Regiment after
regiment has poured into Hiroshima and embarked again for Corea. I am
terribly thrilled over it all, and the Japanese watch my enthusiasm
with their non-committal eyes and never say a word!

My poor little sick girl grows weaker all the time. She is a constant
care and anxiety, but she has no money and I cannot send her back to
her wretched home. The teachers think I am very foolish to let the
thing run on, and I suppose I am. She can never be any better, and she
may live this way for months. But when she clings to me with her frail
hands and declares she is better and will soon get well if I will only
let her stay with me, my heart fails me. I have patched up an old
steamer chair for her, and made a window garden, and tried to make the
room as bright as possible. She has to stay by herself nearly all day,
but she is so patient and gentle that I never hear a complaint. This
morning she pressed my hand to her breast and said wistfully, "Sensei,
it makes sorry to play all the time with the health."