Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews

“ Then Yusai spoke a few words, and the little doomed chaps listened eagerly— you could see that, for all their impassive fates.
"'You have done well, men,' he said. 'You are serving fatherland. You go to death, and your country will keep your memory. Out of your dust will blossom the flower of honor. Forward march!'
"They sprang as if going to a fête, led by the corporal, and the column as they started began singing—first two or three men, and then the whole column took it up. It was the Japanese national hymn—'Kimi ga yo' they call it. ”

“ Not a man was touched. We saw them a moment under the arch of the gateway, busy over the fuse; then we saw them a moment, a mass of white with yellow touches of the caps, grouped quietly around the dynamite. The Chinese would not meddle this time."
Mr. Cameron stopped. No one at the table moved or spoke. It was perhaps a minute we waited and then Mrs. McDonald said:
"Tell it!" And her voice broke on the two words.
He answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "Then the gate blew up and the detachment was killed to a man. Nothing else possible, don't you know." ”

“ Cameron," he said. "It makes one want to impose on you and ask questions."
Mr. Cameron had got back into his shell—conscious because he felt the atmosphere he had created. He answered civilly but coldly.
"Oh, thank you very much."
The man went on, impervious to the chill, and we all were glad. "You talk about Japanese acts of heroism you've seen. Couldn't you tell us one? Most of us here to-night didn't get into Pekin with the allied armies, and this is a great event, to hear about it at first hand." ”

“ Any half hour those white women and children might fall into the hands of the cruelest devils known to history.
"There were several ways of getting into Pekin, and the Japanese had been told off to do the march from Tung-Chow by the ancient paved road, and to attack the east gate—the one I spoke of. The Chi-ho gate, the Chinese call it. We had camped about three miles from it, the night of the 13th, and had got soaked in a rain like a mountain torrent. I was feeling rather nasty, but the little soldiers in their wet white uniforms were as fit as ever—tough little chaps. ”

“ Take their courage—it's all of the same sort—a sort by itself."
Mr. Cameron considered. "They're quite as different as we are individually, don't you know," he insisted. "Yet Japanese heroism is—typically—Japanese heroism." The clearly enunciated words fell slowly. "When one of those little chaps comes to offer up his life he inevitably does it in the national way. It's a good way. I don't know but it's the finest way I've run across."
"It isn't fair to make a distinction between one man who gives his life and another. Dying is the last test—there's nothing farther ”

“ We went directly out to dinner; the resentful one did not lift a finger to conciliate or amuse us and in five minutes no one at the table willingly talked to anyone but him. So does personality triumph over manner, the big thing that a man is over the small things that he does. ”

“ Cameron with easy, unexpected boldness, "there's plenty of material good enough for Macaulay or any other chap. Every man there saw a few things that were remarkable."
"That's what we want. Begin," Mrs. McDonald urged him. "I'll start you—'Heavy clouds hung over the great city of Pekin. It was the day before the battle."
"You're wrong there," he caught up the thread. "It was the very day that the allies got in, the 14th of August, 1900. I was with my friends the Japanese. ”