The first stages of my return home were from Iloilo to Manila, and thence to Nagasaki, the chief port of Japan. Upon leaving Iloilo for Manila, my son accompanied me as far as Manila; he heard incidentally that he was to be made a staff officer; as I procured quick transportation as far as Nagasaki, I told him to return to his duties and I would get along some way. Upon reaching Nagasaki, the difficulties began. I went immediately to the various offices of steamship lines and found there was no passage of any grade to be had. Many were fleeing from the various ports to get away from the plague and all steamers were crowded because of the reduced rates to the Pan-American Fair. Thinking I might have a better chance from Yokohama, I took passage up there on the North German Lloyd line. I had a splendid state-room, fine service, the best of everything. I told the purser I should like to engage that same state-room back to Liverpool; he replied he could not take me, that I would not live to get there. I assured him that I was a good sailor, that I was very much emaciated with my long stay in the Philippines, that I would soon recover with his good food and the sea air; but he refused to take me. When I reached Yokohama, I immediately began to see if I could not secure sailing from there; day after day went by, it was the old story, everything taken. When the Gaelic was returning I told the captain that I would be willing to take even third cabin at first class rates, but even thus there were no accommodations. Within an hour of the ship’s sailing, word was brought to me that two women had given up their cabin and that I might have it; it was two miles out to the ship, with no sampan—small boat—of any kind to get my baggage out, so I tearfully saw this ship sail away. I then decided to return to Nagasaki to try again from that port. The voyage back was by the Empress line of steamers flying between Vancouver and Yokohama. Upon reaching Nagasaki again I appealed to the quarter-master to secure transportation; he said I could not get anything at all. Officers whom I had met in the Philippines proposed to take me and my baggage on board without the necessary red tape, in fact to make me a stow-away, but I refused. I cabled my son in New York to see if I could get a favorable order from Washington. I cabled Governor Taft, but he was powerless in the great pressure of our returning troops. In the meantime, I was daily growing weaker from the excitement and worry of being unable to do anything at all. The housekeeper of the very well-kept Nagasaki hotel was especially kind. She gave me very good attention and even the Chinese boy who took care of my room and brought my meals realized the desperate condition I was in. One day, with the deepest kind of solicitude on his otherwise stolid but child-like and bland face, he said:—

“Mrs., you no got husband?”

“No.”

“You no got all same boys.”

“Yes, I have three nice boys.”

“Why no then you three boys not come and help poor sick mother go home to die?”

Captain John E. Weber, of the Thirty-Eighth Volunteers returning home on transport Logan, insisted upon my taking his state room. The quarter-master, who had refused me so many times before, thought that he could not allow it, anything so out of the “general routine of business;” but Captain Weber said, “On no account will I leave you here, after all your faithful service in the Philippines to myself, other officers, and hundreds of boys.” I had one of the best state rooms on the upper deck and received the most kindly attentions from many on board; the quarter-master had been a personal friend of my husband in other and happier days. On the homeward way, the ship took what is known as the northern course; she made no stop between Nagasaki and San Francisco. We went far enough north to see the coast of Alaska. We saw many whales and experienced much cold weather. In my low state of vitality I suffered from the cold, but not from sea sickness. I did not miss a single meal en route during the twenty-four sailing days of the ship. They were days of great pleasure. We had social games and singing, and religious services on Sunday. There were a great many sick soldiers in the ship’s hospital; three dying during the voyage. On reaching San Francisco the ship was placed in quarantine the usual number of days, but there was no added delay as there were on board no cases of infectious disease. Mrs. General Funston was one of the passengers and was greeted most cordially by the friends and neighbors of this, her native state. Upon my declaring to the custom house officers that I had been two years in the Philippines and had nothing for sale they immediately passed my baggage without any trouble. My son in New York, to whom I had cabled from Nagasaki, had never received my message, so there was no one to meet me, but I was so thankful to be in dear, blessed America that it was joy enough. No, not enough until I reached my own beloved home. Had it been possible I would have kissed every blade of grass on its grounds, and every leaf on its trees.

I am not ashamed to say that July 10th, the day of my home coming, I knelt down and kissed with unspeakable gratitude and love its dear earth and once more thanked God that His hand had led me—led me home.

“Adious.”