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Mirror of Matsuyama.
Start of Story
"Oh! my mother told me when she gave me the mirror as a parting gift,
that whenever I looked into it I should be able to meet her--to see
her. I had nearly forgotten her last words--how stupid I am; I will get
the mirror now and see if it can possibly be true!"
She dried her eyes quickly, and going to the cupboard took out the box
that contained the mirror, her heart beating with expectation as she
lifted the mirror out and gazed into its smooth face. Behold, her
mother's words were true! In the round mirror before her she saw her
mother's face; but, oh, the joyful surprise! It was not her mother thin
and wasted by illness, but the young and beautiful woman as she
remembered her far back in the days of her own earliest childhood. It
seemed to the girl that the face in the mirror must soon speak, almost
that she heard the voice of her mother telling her again to grow up a
good woman and a dutiful daughter, so earnestly did the eyes in the
mirror look back into her own.
"It is certainly my mother's soul that I see. She knows how miserable I
am without her and she has come to comfort me. Whenever I long to see
her she will meet me here; how grateful I ought to be!"
And from this time the weight of sorrow was greatly lightened for her
young heart. Every morning, to gather strength for the day's duties
before her, and every evening, for consolation before she lay down to
rest, did the young girl take out the mirror and gaze at the reflection
which in the simplicity of her innocent heart she believed to be her
mother's soul. Daily she grew in the likeness of her dead mother's
character, and was gentle and kind to all, and a dutiful daughter to
A year spent in mourning had thus passed away in the little household,
when, by the advice of his relations, the man married again, and the
daughter now found herself under the authority of a step-mother. It was
a trying position; but her days spent in the recollection of her own
beloved mother, and of trying to be what that mother would wish her to
be, had made the young girl docile and patient, and she now determined
to be filial and dutiful to her father's wife, in all respects.
Everything went on apparently smoothly in the family for some time
under the new regime; there were no winds or waves of discord to ruffle
the surface of every-day life, and the father was content.
But it is a woman's danger to be petty and mean, and step-mothers are
proverbial all the world over, and this one's heart was not as her
first smiles were. As the days and weeks grew into months, the
step-mother began to treat the motherless girl unkindly and to try and
come between the father and child.
Sometimes she went to her husband and complained of her step-daughter's
behavior, but the father knowing that this was to be expected, took no
notice of her ill-natured complaints. Instead of lessening his
affection for his daughter, as the woman desired, her grumblings only
made him think of her the more. The woman soon saw that he began to
show more concern for his lonely child than before. This did not please
her at all, and she began to turn over in her mind how she could, by
some means or other, drive her step-child out of the house. So crooked
did the woman's heart become.
She watched the girl carefully, and one day peeping into her room in
the early morning, she thought she discovered a grave enough sin of
which to accuse the child to her father. The woman herself was a little
frightened too at what she had seen.
So she went at once to her husband, and wiping away some false tears
she said in a sad voice:
"Please give me permission to leave you today."
The man was completely taken by surprise at the suddenness of her
request, and wondered whatever was the matter.
"Do you find it so disagreeable," he asked, "in my house, that you can
stay no longer?"
"No! no! it has nothing to do with you--even in my dreams I have never
thought that I wished to leave your side; but if I go on living here I
am in danger of losing my life, so I think it best for all concerned
that you should allow me to go home!"
And the woman began to weep afresh. Her husband, distressed to see her
so unhappy, and thinking that he could not have heard aright, said:
"Tell me what you mean! How is your life in danger here?"
"I will tell you since you ask me. Your daughter dislikes me as her
step-mother. For some time past she has shut herself up in her room
morning and evening, and looking in as I pass by, I am convinced that
she has made an image of me and is trying to kill me by magic art,
cursing me daily. It is not safe for me to stay here, such being the
case; indeed, indeed, I must go away, we cannot live under the same
roof any more."
The husband listened to the dreadful tale, but he could not believe his
gentle daughter guilty of such an evil act. He knew that by popular
superstition people believed that one person could cause the gradual
death of another by making an image of the hated one and cursing it
daily; but where had his young daughter learned such knowledge?--the
thing was impossible. Yet he remembered having noticed that his
daughter stayed much in her room of late and kept herself away from
every one, even when visitors came to the house. Putting this fact
together with his wife's alarm, he thought that there might be
something to account for the strange story.
His heart was torn between doubting his wife and trusting his child,
and he knew not what to do. He decided to go at once to his daughter
and try to find out the truth. Comforting his wife and assuring her
that her fears were groundless, he glided quietly to his daughter's
The girl had for a long time past been very unhappy. She had tried by
amiability and obedience to show her goodwill and to mollify the new
wife, and to break down that wall of prejudice and misunderstanding
that she knew generally stood between step-parents and their
step-children. But she soon found that her efforts were in vain. The
step-mother never trusted her, and seemed to misinterpret all her
actions, and the poor child knew very well that she often carried
unkind and untrue tales to her father. She could not help comparing her
present unhappy condition with the time when her own mother was alive
only a little more than a year ago--so great a change in this short
time! Morning and evening she wept over the remembrance. Whenever she
could she went to her room, and sliding the screens to, took out the
mirror and gazed, as she thought, at her mother's face. It was the only
comfort that she had in these wretched days.
Her father found her occupied in this way. Pushing aside the fusama, he
saw her bending over something or other very intently. Looking over her
shoulder, to see who was entering her room, the girl was surprised to
see her father, for he generally sent for her when he wished to speak