The navy came gallantly to our rescue through Admiral Jouett of the flagship Tennessee and Captain Kane of the Galena. A detail of ship’s carpenters and a mighty armorer helped unpack and install our exhibits and the navy band played at our “opening.” I remember a luncheon party on the Tennessee, the ship that in 1870 had been reported lost with all on board, when my father was on his way to Santo Domingo. The Admiral introduced Mr. Henry Watterson, who was to sit next me at lunch.
I was aware of an alert ironical face, of keen eyes that seemed to challenge mine, of a manner less flattering than I was accustomed to after these weeks amid the chivalrous men of New Orleans. As we sat down to table, Mr. Watterson seemed to stiffen and left me to open the conversation with the innocent question:
“Do you live in New Orleans, Mr. Watterson, or are you a stranger like ourselves?”
He glanced at me sideways—if looks could kill I should not be alive to-day—as he answered icily, “I am from Louisville, Kentucky, Miss.”
“Editor of the Courier-Journal”, whispered my other neighbor. I should have known, but so obviously didn’t, that Mr. Watterson would not speak to me again, devoting himself to the lady on the other side who knew all about him. In spite of my chagrin, I listened to his brilliant talk and have retained a strong impression of “Marse Henry.” He seemed to me a fiery, impetuous man, a little vain, a little cocksure, but likable and with a fine sense of humor. He had deep-set eyes under beetling brows with shaggy eyebrows. Nothing escaped those eyes and little those sharp ears. I was not long in finding out who Mr. Watterson was, and what he stood for, and finally made his acquaintance, after all these years, by reading the two long volumes of his autobiography. He wielded a pen like a sword and from first to last was one of the ablest who fought for the cause of the Confederacy, and later for the Democratic Party.
Ichizo Hattori, the Japanese Commissioner, was one of the interesting figures at the Exposition. He was keen to learn about our schools and colleges and in return for what my mother told him, he taught me to admire the art of his people. I remember two things Hattori told us about the public schools in Japan.
“We allow private education only on condition that the pupils are examined with the children of the public schools. If they fail to pass after three trials, they must enter the public schools.”
A propos of the Japanese teachers, Hattori said:
“Every five years our teachers are examined to see if they are keeping up with the progress of the age. While we are exacting, we try to make the teacher’s position attractive by giving them titles and rank, so that the profession may not be treated as an unimportant one.”
April 7. To the Exposition. Spent the morning in my office, writing to the women who have lent us their books, telling of the plan to give the whole collection of 1400 volumes to the New Orleans Women’s Club at the close of the Exposition.