She has been here for tea, and I am charmed with her. She is as
pretty as a jewel of pure jade; I do not blame my son. She has
laughter in her dancing eyes and seems as if she would sing her life
away from year to year and see life always through the golden gleam
of happy days. She is respectful and modest, and now I feel she is
one of the family and I ask her to join us in all our feastings. She
came to the feast when we burned the Kitchen God, and joined with
us in prayers as he ascended to the great Spirit to tell him of our
actions in the past year. I am afraid our young people do not believe
o'ermuch in this small God of the Household, who sits so quietly upon
his shelf above the kitchen stove for twelve long months, watching all
that goes on within the home, then gives his message for good or ill to
Him above; but they are too respectful to say ought against it-- in my
hearing. They must respect the old Gods until they find something
better to take their place.
I do not know but that my son is right in this question of his courtship.
It is pretty to see them as they wander through the gardens, while we
mothers sit upon the balconies and gossip. Their love seems to be as
pure as spotless rice and "so long as colour is colour and life is life
will the youth with his sublime folly wait for the meeting of his loved
one.
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