T'he Days of a Man [;i9oo 



standards for his people and of a drastic reform of the 

 geisha system. But although apparently in sound 

 health at that time, he died not many years after our 

 visit. 



otaki Otaki was one of the two Japanese students who 



entered Stanford the first year, during which he and 

 Sadonosuke Kokubo, his classmate, served my 

 family as cook and second boy. Graduating in Zo- 

 ology, he became a temporary field assistant to the 

 United States Fish Commission on the Columbia 

 River. An eloquent speaker in his own language, 

 and much interested in educational problems, at the 

 time of our visit he was teaching English in the 

 Imperial Military Academy of Tokyo. There he 

 trained Japanese youth in thought and literary style, 

 his principal text being the essays of Herbert Spencer. 

 Afterward he became professor of Ichthyology in the 

 provincial University of Sapporo, writing a series 

 of popular essays on the fishes of Japan. But in a 

 tramway wreck he received injuries from which he 

 died in 1910. 



Asocial One afternoon I ventured to make a call at his 

 modest home, a slight breach, perhaps, of conven- 

 tional etiquette. He was absent, but his mild, 

 motherly wife (who could not escape) bowed three 

 times to the ground in extreme deference. I then 

 presented my card. This being meaningless to her, 

 I walked boldly into the tiny house, which contained 

 three exquisite rooms with sliding panels, besides a 

 sort of kitchen — a brick alcove about a yard square. 

 In the "library" I found two small shelves of Ameri- 

 can books; on the center stool lay a copy of "The 

 Book of Knight and Barbara," which I pointed out 

 to the little lady. It then flashed upon her who the 



r 10 3 



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