Many years ago I used to steal into a Buddha temple, being a little “otenba,” and tap an idol’s shoulder, saying: “How are you getting along, Hotoke Sama?”
Not one idol here!
No incense!
How uninteresting!
How silly I was inventing some clever thing for the occasion when I should be forced to confess! The church was not Catholic.
When we returned home, Mrs. Schuyler asked me what was the text.
“Let me see——”
I made as if I had been a listener to the sermon.
“Dear Mrs. Schuyler, what was it?” I exclaimed as if I had accidentally forgotten.
19th—Miss Olive offered to show me how to play golf.