said that the accomplishments of the women
of Old Japan, be they martial or pacific in character, were mainly
intended for the home; and, however far they might roam, they never lost
sight of the hearth as the center. It was to maintain its honor and
integrity that they slaved, drudged and gave up their lives. Night and
day, in tones at once firm and tender, brave and plaintive, they sang to
their little nests. As daughter, woman sacrificed herself for her
father, as wife for her husband, and as mother for her son. Thus from
earliest youth she was taught to deny herself. Her life was not one of
independence, but of dependent service. Man's helpmeet, if her presence
is helpful she stays on the stage with him: if it hinders his work, she
retires behind the curtain. Not infrequently does it happen that a youth
becomes enamored of a maiden who returns his love with equal ardor, but,
when she realizes his interest in her makes him forgetful of his duties,
disfigures her person that her attractions may cease. Adzuma, the ideal
wife in the minds of samurai girls, finds herself loved by a man who,
in order to win her affection, conspires against her husband. Upon
pretence of joining in the guilty plot, she manages in the dark to take
her husband's place, and the sword of the lover assassin descends upon
her own devoted head.

The following epistle written by the wife of a young daimio, before
taking her own life, needs no comment:--"Oft have I heard that no
accident or chance ever mars the march of events here below, and that
all moves in accordance with a plan. To take shelter under a common
bough or a drink of the same river, is alike ordained from ages prior to
our birth. Since we were joined in ties of eternal wedlock, now two
short years ago, my heart hath followed thee, even as its shadow
followeth an object, inseparably bound heart to heart, loving and being
loved. Learning but recently, however, that the coming battle is to be
the last of thy labor and life, take the farewell greeting of thy loving
partner. I have heard that K[=o]-u, the mighty warrior of ancient China,
lost a battle, loth to part with his favorite Gu. Yoshinaka, too, brave
as he was, brought disaster to his cause, too weak to bid prompt
farewell to his wife. Why should I, to whom earth no longer offers hope
or joy--why should I detain thee or thy thoughts by living? Why should I
not, rather, await thee on the road which all mortal kind must sometime
tr