sponsible, and finding it impossible to 

 prove her innocence, drowned herself 

 in a well. From this time forth her 

 ghost returned nightly and could be 

 heard counting the dishes slowly, 

 with sobs, beginning — one — two — 

 three, and so on up to nine. Then 

 would come a cry of agony, a loud 

 burst of weeping, and again the girl's 

 voice counting — one — two, until 

 nine was reached again. This she did 

 every night until dawn came, and so, 

 on account of poor 0-kiku's fate, no 

 one plants her name-flower in Himeji. 

 Not alone in the land of its birth is 

 the chrysanthemum admired and ex- 

 tolled. Nowhere is it grown more 

 successfully than in London, great 

 city of smoke and gloom as it is. 

 Should you chance to stroll into the 

 Temple Gardens in November, you 

 might almost fancy yourself trans- 

 ported across seas to Japan itself. 

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