TOKYO.

You say, "where goest thou?" I cannot tell, and still go on. If but the way be straight, it cannot go amiss! Before me lies dawn and the day; the night behind me; that suffices me; I break the bounds; I see, and nothing more; believe, and nothing less. My future is not one of my concerns.

Sounds of rural life and labour! Not the notes of pipe and tabour, not the clash of helm and sabre bright'ning up the field of glory, can compare with thy ovations, that make glad the hearts of nations; e'en the poet's fond creations pale before thy simple story.

In the years beyond our present, king was little more than peasant, labour was the shining crescent, toil, the poor man's crown of glory; have we passed from worse to better since we wove the silken fetter, changed the plough for book and letter. Truest life for tinsel story?

'Cherries, ripe cherries!' the old woman cried, in her snowy white apron, and basket beside; and the little boys came, eyes shining, cheeks red, to buy a bag of cherries, to eat with their bread.

you've gotta dance like there's nobody watching, love like you'll never be hurt,