IITHE HONOURABLE WAR CLOUD
San Francisco, November 16th.
To Editor of New York newspaper, enlightened printer who manufacture Truth for all thoughtful Person.
Dear Sir—I so happy, thank you, esteemed Mr., for you listen to how I say so in my last letter. Therefore I am much obliged to you for several more intelligent Question which I will ask you what is.
During my residence in Hospital to enjoy brick-bat wound sent there by Labouring Union, I give some large quantities of thought-attention to future life. What business would be swiftest for making success of it? Waiting on table-board of Mrs. O’Brien, honourable lady, is repulsive to proud Japanese Boy any more do. Which would be better for me: To learn to be Christian Missionary or to study for bookkeeping and stenography? Both ways lead to good jobs.
My cousin Nogi, who return from British Columbia leaving front teeth with English friends there, say, “Missionary jobs are no longer neededfor Japan, because our dear country already have rapid-fire fleet and stand-up army sufficient to make all Japanese Christians.”
“What date is arrange for this Japan-America war to be shot off?” I ask for answer.
“Not yet but when!” response this Nogi making eyewink, American salute.
“In such a warfare which kingdom would beat it?” is next question for me.
“Frequently one and then some,” collapse Nogi, who think as I do.
Therefore I still ask to know. Hon. Mr. Sir, could you so courteously remind Japanese Boy of exact date for such warfare? If there is any announcement in your press of this battle would you send me clipping, address Hospital? Such an answer would be delightful to know for all-coloured races. Political man, labour-union man, newspaper-press all have brain-ache questioning, When. You will permit me, please, to speak how I think so?
Japan-America war is impossible to happen! Banzai! All should be so happy in Hon. Carnegie talking-library at Hague. Philippine Island must be taken by Japan on mortgage or some other peaceable conquest. Perhaps American Congress will consider this nice birthday present to Emperor of Japan.
How I make this knowledge? Because so. Japan could never secure these United States entirely for Japanese Government. I. Anazuma, Japanese barber, tell me how Mr. Kuroki might not capture New York from such great distance of San Francisco. And what must Japan do with New York when captured? That is hard question for Japanese Boy.
While residing in Hospital bed my cousin Nogi come to me bringing donation of banana-fruit for lunching. These fruit come as package enwrapped in American newspaper-press. I am thankful for lunch, but more so thankful for reading-news on enwrapping. The information tell me nervously that fleet of ships commanded by Hon. Pres. Roosevelt will go around to the Pacific ocean by the Cape of Horn, avoiding Panama canal which is less done. Must Japan shoot American ship for going to Pacific ocean? This is question for editor. I answer, No, please! Pacific ocean still have too much water for Japan to cover with torpedo boats. Thank you, America fleet may call at San Francisco, San Diego, Seattle without angry rage from Tokyo government which is busy civilizing Corea. Hon. Mr. Roosevelt is welcome to travel.
Howeverly is, some sinful thoughts come to Japanese Boy. Is not some excitement interestingto all-coloured races? It would be fine engagement for Japan-America navies to come together sometime for slight shooting-scrape, because both have enjoyed very pleasant target-practice. America navy recently use boat of Hon. Adm. Cervera for excellent bull’s eye. Japanese navy practice, still more recently, on fleet of Hon. Mr. Rodjestvensky in which practice Japan gunners score 97 out of possible 100 hits. Yet it are not good-healthy for 2 such equal navies to meet in angry rage, because they might be bursted by following brutal diagram:
Mr. Editor I am Samurai, like all other Japanese Boys. When sick hand is well I am good for all fights. My friend, Arthur Kickahajama, missionary boy, is exceptional to this rule saying man-strangling and dynamite explosion to be bad for human race. He teach meek-eye as best disease for strong-arm. He come to Hospital and hold my sick hand to say,
“Togo, when union labour drop brick-bat upon Japanese Boy, what then?”
“Hara-kiri!” I explain. “Japanese Boy deliver jiu jitsu upon eye of Mr. Casey.”
“So heathen thought!” devote Arthur. “When brick-bat smite left cheek, right cheek is then presentable for more.”
To such talk I am only able to speak of rats. Arthur forgive such politeness and read me poetical thought, because sickness prevent escape:
Tell us to know, feeble sparrow-bird of quiet politics,Why is?Yes, you are equally white as snow, and yet snow frequently catches it from gunpowder.What has occurred to your appearance?What has become of thy tail-feathers, wing-feathers, pin-feathers?Where is the hair upon thy back and alsoWhere has thy left eye went?Tell us to know, gentle chickadee of disarmed nations,Why is thy matinee music-songSo heartlus and without feet?Like the melody of hand-saws playing upon rusty nail, like a leak in a bagpipe or likeA widowed ostrich pining alone with bronchitis of the throat!Hast thou a message for the world to know?Tell me, Arthur Kickahajama, missionary!If so,Tell us to know, gentle harbinger of harbour-defences,Tell us——But Peace Dove, butting inwards upon poetical addressOf Arthur Kickahajama, missionary,Makes peeking expression toward Holland with that one remaining eyeball,Makes pointing gesture toward Washington with the stump of bit-off leg.And response back to the Japanese poet as follows: “Croak!“I will tell you to know, Arthur Kickahajama:I have been delivered to NationsBearing labelHANDLE WITHOUT CARE!How can Pidgeon sail tranquil on smooth tail-feathersWhen Great PeacemakersDistribute him here and there shot-out-of-a-gun?When, to go places, he is clubbed with swords, jabbed by sceptres, batted by big sticks?Is there no Society of Prevention for This?“And yet I am here, Peace has arrived—But of what use to mankind delivered in such a shopworn condition?Thank you for plaster-casts, thank you for limb-bandages, eye-wash, salve,Thank you for arnica-poultice, Brother Missionary!Peace be with you—Croak!”
Tell us to know, feeble sparrow-bird of quiet politics,Why is?Yes, you are equally white as snow, and yet snow frequently catches it from gunpowder.What has occurred to your appearance?What has become of thy tail-feathers, wing-feathers, pin-feathers?Where is the hair upon thy back and alsoWhere has thy left eye went?Tell us to know, gentle chickadee of disarmed nations,Why is thy matinee music-songSo heartlus and without feet?Like the melody of hand-saws playing upon rusty nail, like a leak in a bagpipe or likeA widowed ostrich pining alone with bronchitis of the throat!Hast thou a message for the world to know?Tell me, Arthur Kickahajama, missionary!If so,Tell us to know, gentle harbinger of harbour-defences,Tell us——But Peace Dove, butting inwards upon poetical addressOf Arthur Kickahajama, missionary,Makes peeking expression toward Holland with that one remaining eyeball,Makes pointing gesture toward Washington with the stump of bit-off leg.And response back to the Japanese poet as follows: “Croak!“I will tell you to know, Arthur Kickahajama:I have been delivered to NationsBearing labelHANDLE WITHOUT CARE!How can Pidgeon sail tranquil on smooth tail-feathersWhen Great PeacemakersDistribute him here and there shot-out-of-a-gun?When, to go places, he is clubbed with swords, jabbed by sceptres, batted by big sticks?Is there no Society of Prevention for This?“And yet I am here, Peace has arrived—But of what use to mankind delivered in such a shopworn condition?Thank you for plaster-casts, thank you for limb-bandages, eye-wash, salve,Thank you for arnica-poultice, Brother Missionary!Peace be with you—Croak!”
Tell us to know, feeble sparrow-bird of quiet politics,Why is?Yes, you are equally white as snow, and yet snow frequently catches it from gunpowder.What has occurred to your appearance?What has become of thy tail-feathers, wing-feathers, pin-feathers?Where is the hair upon thy back and alsoWhere has thy left eye went?
Tell us to know, feeble sparrow-bird of quiet politics,
Why is?
Yes, you are equally white as snow, and yet snow frequently catches it from gunpowder.
What has occurred to your appearance?
What has become of thy tail-feathers, wing-feathers, pin-feathers?
Where is the hair upon thy back and also
Where has thy left eye went?
Tell us to know, gentle chickadee of disarmed nations,Why is thy matinee music-songSo heartlus and without feet?Like the melody of hand-saws playing upon rusty nail, like a leak in a bagpipe or likeA widowed ostrich pining alone with bronchitis of the throat!Hast thou a message for the world to know?Tell me, Arthur Kickahajama, missionary!If so,Tell us to know, gentle harbinger of harbour-defences,Tell us——But Peace Dove, butting inwards upon poetical addressOf Arthur Kickahajama, missionary,Makes peeking expression toward Holland with that one remaining eyeball,Makes pointing gesture toward Washington with the stump of bit-off leg.And response back to the Japanese poet as follows: “Croak!“I will tell you to know, Arthur Kickahajama:I have been delivered to NationsBearing labelHANDLE WITHOUT CARE!How can Pidgeon sail tranquil on smooth tail-feathersWhen Great PeacemakersDistribute him here and there shot-out-of-a-gun?When, to go places, he is clubbed with swords, jabbed by sceptres, batted by big sticks?Is there no Society of Prevention for This?
Tell us to know, gentle chickadee of disarmed nations,
Why is thy matinee music-song
So heartlus and without feet?
Like the melody of hand-saws playing upon rusty nail, like a leak in a bagpipe or like
A widowed ostrich pining alone with bronchitis of the throat!
Hast thou a message for the world to know?
Tell me, Arthur Kickahajama, missionary!
If so,
Tell us to know, gentle harbinger of harbour-defences,
Tell us——
But Peace Dove, butting inwards upon poetical address
Of Arthur Kickahajama, missionary,
Makes peeking expression toward Holland with that one remaining eyeball,
Makes pointing gesture toward Washington with the stump of bit-off leg.
And response back to the Japanese poet as follows: “Croak!
“I will tell you to know, Arthur Kickahajama:
I have been delivered to Nations
Bearing labelHANDLE WITHOUT CARE!
How can Pidgeon sail tranquil on smooth tail-feathers
When Great Peacemakers
Distribute him here and there shot-out-of-a-gun?
When, to go places, he is clubbed with swords, jabbed by sceptres, batted by big sticks?
Is there no Society of Prevention for This?
“And yet I am here, Peace has arrived—But of what use to mankind delivered in such a shopworn condition?Thank you for plaster-casts, thank you for limb-bandages, eye-wash, salve,Thank you for arnica-poultice, Brother Missionary!Peace be with you—Croak!”
“And yet I am here, Peace has arrived—
But of what use to mankind delivered in such a shopworn condition?
Thank you for plaster-casts, thank you for limb-bandages, eye-wash, salve,
Thank you for arnica-poultice, Brother Missionary!
Peace be with you—
Croak!”
Mr. Editor, your honourable country enjoys many bad traits which are loathsome to Japanese. You are disagreeable to old age, you neglect to worship the holy relic. In the American household you worship the recent Baby with doctors, nurses, chloroform, etc., and at the tooth-cut ofsame all have spasms by joy. But when Grandparent injures the appendicitis he must enjoy it quietly in hospital with stationary to make will.
In boarding house of Mrs. O’Brien there is one young lady which all other eaters at the table-board call “Grandma” because of her immense age. All young gentlemen there talk humoristical anecdote, smile, eat candy with young ladies of more recent birth. While youthly ladies are doing this Miss Grandma set lonesome by lamplight reading Mrs. Humply Ward book.
I have often noticed these when seated in kitchen studying American grammar. “Why should not Young Lady be object of pious regard because of great age?” I frequently enquire for answer.
One evening I put on frockaway coat and make call to Miss Grandma.
“Hon. young lady,” I refer, “yes, ma’am, excuse me, sir! Would you tell one questioning to Japanese Boy?”
“Surely, Mister Togo,” she response. “Whatever is?”
“Oftenly” I relate, “I am attractive to your honourable notice setting lonesome under lamplight. May I call sometime for lonesome company?”
“You are kind gentleman, Mister Togo,”she beseech. “Yes, you can come often for lonesome call.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say, “you are regardless. I come so often kitchen duties prevent it.”
She give me smiling expression peculiar to American lady of any oldness.
“Tell me this answer,” she inquisitive softly. “What qualities in myself make you such admiration?”
“I admire you because of Japanese,” I response. “For in Japan we are taught to reverence the Old Age.”
She throw Humply Ward book to me, then strike me with lamp-light. Fire extinguished by means of Persian rug I retire to kitchen to make my soul enquire about things.
Hoping your Highness may place this thoughts on printing-press without danger, and love to family and friends.
Yours truly,
Hashimura Togo.
S. P.—I am taking lessons in harmonica playing of which Hospital nurse Flynn is Prof. He teach me national hymn of Hon. Geo. M. Cohen entitled “The Rag Which We Revere.” Your Constitution must feel very nervous following that Cohen Flag!
H. T.