and pray to Buddha
and all the ancient gods to love the original: she has framed it in a
funny little Japanese frame, and suspended it in that sacred part of the
house, called the Toko, a sort of alcove, in which only beautiful things
are displayed. Formerly the gods were placed there (many hundred years
ago); but now the gods have a separate shrine in the household, and the
Toko is only the second Holy place...."

[Illustration: Mrs. Atkinson (Hearn's Half-sister).]

The next letter is dated June 27th, '92, 25th year of Meiji.

"Dear sister, I love you a little bit more on hearing that you are
little. The smaller you are the more I will be fond of you. As for
marriage being a damper upon affection between kindred, it is true only
of Occidental marriages. The Japanese wife is only the shadow of her
husband, infinitely unselfish and naive in all things....

"If you want me to see you soon, you must pray to the Occidental gods to
make me suddenly rich. However, I doubt if they have half as much
influence as the gods of Japan,--who are helping me to make a bank
account as fast as honest work can produce such a result. I have no
babies; and don't expect to have, and may be able to cross the seas one
of these days to linger in your country a while. But really I don't
know. I drift with the current of events.

"As for my book on Japan,--my first book,--there is much to do yet,--it
ought to be out in the Fall. It will be called "Glimpses of Unfamiliar
Japan," and will treat of strange things.

"I would like to see you very much; for you are too tantalizing in your
letters, and tell me nothing about your inner self. I want to find out
what the angel shut up in your heart is like. No doubt very sweet, but I
would like to pull it out, and stroke its wings, and make it chipper a
little. As for the little ones, make them love me; for if they see me
without previous discipline, they will be afraid of my ugly face when I
come--I send you a photo of one-half of it, the other is not pleasant, I
assure you: like the moon, I show only one side of myself. In Spanish
countries they call me Leucadio--much easier for little folk to
pronounce. By the way, you never gave me your address,--sign of
impulsive haste, like my own.

"With best love,
"LAFCADIO HEARN."

Then in January, 1903, he writes again, "Your kind sweet letter reached
me at Ch