ld child was
sleeping on a mat. The father and mother were reading some American
papers sent them by their old college friends in the United States.

Suddenly that little two-year-old sat straight up in its mat bed, lifted
its arms in the air and shouted "Mansei! Mansei! Mansei!" three times
and then dropped back to sleep as if nothing had happened.

"How did you feel?" I asked my Korean friend.

"It made me cry. I said to my wife 'As long as Korea has babies with
that in their little souls before they are two years of age, Korea will
never be assimilated by Japan!'"

The children of Korea look up at the ceiling when a Japanese teacher
enters a room. They are compelled to have Japanese teachers; even in the
mission schools. The children refuse to do anything for a Japanese
teacher.

One day a Japanese teacher thought that he would break that mood by
telling a funny story. He told it with skill.

But not a child laughed, although one of them said to her father that
night, "It was hard not to laugh for it was a very funny story!"

"Who tells you to do these things; you students? Who teaches you to
treat your Japanese teachers in that manner?" my Korean friend asked his
six-year-old child.

"Nobody tells us; we just do it ourselves! All the children hate the
Japanese!" he replied with the wisdom of a grown man.

All over Korea we saw Korean flags cut in walls, carved on stones, and
against excavations where the sand was impressionable to little fingers
and sticks. I took many photographs of these unconventional flags.

There is one instance where Korean children went on a strike just at
Commencement time. It meant that they would not get their diplomas but
that was just the reason they did it: to show their contempt for
Japanese diplomas.

Japanese authorities begged them to return to school.

Finally on Commencement Day they decided to return.

Something had happened.

It was a day of rejoicing among the Japanese so they invited a lot of
Japanese officers to the Commencement exercises.

The diplomas were given, to each boy; the Japanese teachers bowing, and
smiling in their peculiar way.

Then a thirteen-year-old Korean boy stepped to the front to make the
address of thanks. He made a beautiful speech of thanks. The Japanese
teachers were bowing with delight.

But the boy's speech was not finished. He paused toward the end, threw
back his blouse, lifted his proud head and said, "I have only this one