The Meriken church is not a difficult place at all.
A Japanese church is ever so sad-faced. No woman under thirty is seen there. I laughed at the thought of an “incense-smelling” young girl.
Isn’t it strange that Meriken girls love the church?
Is it because they cannot marry without it?
Sunday amusement doesn’t begin before noon. What would girls do if there were no church where they could burst into song?
How classically the bald head of the minister shone!
There is nothing more pleasing than a sweeping sermon on a bright day.
But my mind strayed, wondering why all those ladies were so homely.
I snatched my hat off, wishing to be different from the rest.
I fancied the reason why their hats were eternally glued to their heads was because their hair was never in first-rate order for exhibition.