The Japanese Twins | Page 8

see it.
"Ho, ho," laughed Taro. "The lady has lost her clog, she is in such a
hurry!"
"She's just as wet as the crow," Take said, "and I don't believe she feels
a bit happier!"
"She'll be wetter still before she gets her washing in, won't she?" the
Father said. "The clouds seem to have burst just over her head! And,

dear me,--how the wind is blowing her about! No, she won't do beside
the plum branch."
He opened another box and unrolled the next picture. Here it is.
Taro and Take looked at it a long time.
Then Take said, "What a beautiful dress the lady has on! I'd like to
dress just like that when I grow up!"
"But she is walking out in the snow with an umbrella over her head,"
said Taro. "It isn't winter now."
Then the Father unrolled the third.
"How do you like this one?" he asked.
It was a picture of a bird with a grasshopper in her bill, flying to a nest
with three little birds in it. The little birds had their mouths wide open.
"Oh, that's the very one!" cried Take. "It's just like Mother, taking care
of Taro and the Baby and me! Let's take that one."
So they left that one out and carefully rolled up the others and put them
back in place. They put the crow away too.
The Twins were just turning round to go out the door when their Father
reached down one more package from a high shelf. "Wait a minute," he
said; "I have some thing else to show you."
The package was long and thin, and the covering was a piece of silk
with the family crest embroidered on it in colored silks.
This was the crest.
Taro and Take knew it at once, for it was embroidered or stamped upon
the sleeves of their kimonos. It was the sign of their family.
The Father took off this cover. Under it was a covering of brocaded

silk.
It seemed a long time to the Twins before it was all unwrapped, they
were so eager to see what was in the package.
At last their Father held up a beautiful sword with both his hands.
It was a long sword, with a handle of carved ivory, and a sheath with
curious designs on it.
The Father bowed to the sword.
"You bow to the sword also, my son," he said to Taro. "It is
wonderfully made. It commands respect."
Taro bowed to the sword.
Then his Father drew the long blade from the sheath. He turned the
edge carefully toward himself, and away from the Twins. "I want you
to see this sword, Taro," he said, "for some time it will be yours,
because you are my oldest son."
"Whose was it?" asked Taro.
"It was your Grandfather's sword," his Father answered, "and you are
old enough now to know what it means. I want you to remember what I
say to you as long as you live.
"Your Grandfather was a gentleman, a Samurai of Japan. This was the
sword he always wore. Many years ago there was trouble in Japan, and
to help the Emperor, all the great dukes in the kingdom gave up their
dukedoms. The Samurai also gave up their honorable positions in the
service of these dukes, and became common citizens.
"Then your Grandfather put away his sword. Years after, when he was
old, he gave it to me. But I do not wear it either, although I too am of
the Samurai, and the sword is their badge of honor. It is much better to
keep it safely here, and think sometimes of what it means, than to wear
it only for display. You can show that you are a son of the Samurai, by

acting as a gentleman should act. You do not need the sword for that. A
Samurai should never do a mean thing. He should keep his life clean
and shining, like the sword. And he must always do what is best for
Japan, whether it is best for him or not."
This was a long speech. The Twins listened with all their ears,-- four of
them,--but they did not quite understand it all. They understood that
their Father loved the sword, and that some time it was to be Taro's,
and that he must be a brave, good boy or he would not be worthy of it;
and that was a good deal, after all.
"May I touch it?" Taro asked.
"You may take it in your own hands," said his Father. And he gave it to
Taro almost as tenderly as he had given Bot'Chan to Take that morning.
He showed him the polite way to hold it, with the edge