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what a sad and cruel world this is, they would not act as they do. The<br />
quotation is from a song <strong>of</strong> remorse. This sort <strong>of</strong> thing but too <strong>of</strong>ten happens<br />
in the world.<br />
When a man marries a wife, he thinks how happy he will be, and how<br />
pleasant it will be keeping house on his own account; but, before the bottom<br />
<strong>of</strong> the family kettle has been scorched black, he will be like a man<br />
learning to swim in a field, with his ideas all turned topsy-turvy, and,<br />
contrary to all his expectations, he will find the pleasures <strong>of</strong> housekeeping<br />
to be all a delusion. Look at that woman there. Haunted by her cares,<br />
she takes no heed <strong>of</strong> her hair, nor <strong>of</strong> her personal appearance. With her<br />
head all untidy, her apron tied round her as a girdle, with a baby twisted<br />
into the bosom <strong>of</strong> her dress, she carries some wretched bean sauce which<br />
she has been out to buy. What sort <strong>of</strong> creature is this? This all comes <strong>of</strong><br />
not listening to the warnings <strong>of</strong> parents, and <strong>of</strong> not waiting for the proper<br />
time, but rushing suddenly into housekeeping. And who is to blame<br />
in the matter? Passion, which does not pause to reflect. A child <strong>of</strong> five or<br />
six years will never think <strong>of</strong> learning to play the guitar for its own pleasure.<br />
What a ten-million times miserable thing it is, when parents, making<br />
their little girls hug a great guitar, listen with pleasure to the poor little<br />
things playing on instruments big enough for them to climb upon, and<br />
squeaking out songs in their shrill treble voices! Now I must beg you to<br />
listen to me carefully. If you get confused and don't keep a sharp lookout,<br />
your children, brought up upon harp and guitar playing, will be<br />
abandoning their parents, and running away secretly. Depend upon it,<br />
from all that is licentious and meretricious something monstrous will<br />
come forth. The poet who wrote the "Four Sleeves" regarded it as the<br />
right path <strong>of</strong> instruction to convey a warning against vice. But the theatre<br />
and dramas and fashionable songs, if the moral that they convey is<br />
missed, are a very great mistake. Although you may think it very right<br />
and proper that a young lady should practise nothing but the harp and<br />
guitar until her marriage, I tell you that it is not so; for if she misses the<br />
moral <strong>of</strong> her songs and music, there is the danger <strong>of</strong> her falling in love<br />
with some man and eloping. While on this subject, I have an amusing<br />
story to tell you.<br />
Once upon a time, a frog, who lived at Kiôto, had long been desirous<br />
<strong>of</strong> going to see Osaka. One spring, having made up his mind, he started<br />
<strong>of</strong>f to see Osaka and all its famous places. By a series <strong>of</strong> hops on all-fours<br />
he reached a temple opposite Nishi-no-oka, and thence by the western<br />
road he arrived at Yamazaki, and began to ascend the mountain called<br />
Tenôzan. Now it so happened that a frog from Osaka had determined to<br />
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