THE FLAG FESTIVAL

It was the fifth day of the fifth month, which is the day of the Flag Festival in Japan.

Tara slipped out of his wooden clogs and ran into the room where UmÉ was gathering her books together for school. "Baby Onda's fish is up at last," he shouted, "and as far as you can see the ocean of air is full of fishes. Did I not say that the fifth day of the fifth month would be filled with gladness?" he demanded.

"Yes, Tara, but I have far too much to do to talk with you now," said UmÉ very primly.

"At least you can condescend to come out on the veranda just one moment to look at cousin Onda's fish."

"Very well, honorable Brother," said UmÉ, and she followed him to the veranda.

Both children laughed aloud at the sight of the enormous paper carp flying from the top of the bamboo pole on their cousin's house. The fish was at least twenty feet long and was made of strong Japanese paper. Its great mouth and eyes were wide open and it had swallowed so much air that it looked filled to bursting. A mighty wind blew it this way and that, up and down, making it look like a real fish that had been caught with a hook and was trying to escape.

"Onda's father is augustly proud because he has a son," said UmÉ. "He has found the biggest fish in all Tokio to fly, and the people will know that he has only a very little son."

"He will grow larger," said Tara loyally.

"And as he grows larger the fish will grow smaller," answered UmÉ. "Your own fish is only half as large as Onda's."

From a pole in the Utsuki house flew Tara's fish, while from poles as far as the eye could see flew fishes of all sizes and colors. Some poles held two, three, or even five or six fishes. There was a fish for every boy who lived in every house, and every fish was a carp, because in Japan the carp is the fish that can swim against the swift river currents and leap over waterfalls.

For the little Japanese girls there is the Dolls' Festival, and for the boys is this Flag Festival, when they stay at home from school and play all day long. They fly kites, spin tops, tell stories and are told tales of the brave heroes of Japan.

In the room where the dolls had sat in state for the girls there is now a shelf for the boys' toys. There are many toy soldiers, figures of great heroes, men in armor, men wearing helmets and carrying swords, and some carrying guns or drawing tiny cannon on wheels. Tara had his soldiers arranged as if they were fighting a battle, and it was truly a most warlike scene.

The morning had been full of excitement. Tara had already observed the day by taking a bath in very hot water steeped with iris flowers. He had arranged his toys and soldiers. He had been to the kite-maker and bought a huge kite decorated with a picture of the sun in the brilliant red color which is dear to all Japanese children.

He had also run over in his mind the stories that he could remember of Japanese warriors of the past, for well he knew that before the day was over his mother would question him about them all.

He had also recited his catechism to UmÉ, and had answered bravely all the questions as she read them.

"What do you love best in the world?"

"The Emperor, of course."

"Better than your father and mother?"

"He is the father of my father and mother."

"What will you give the Emperor?"

"All my best toys, and my life when he needs it."

Now he was busy tying a long silk string to his kite and getting it ready to fly.

UmÉ forgot her school books and ran down the garden path to look once more at the bed of iris which was now in full bloom beside the brook.

"To-morrow I will gather some of the leaves and flowers," she said, "and arrange them in the tall green jar for the alcove. That will keep away evil spirits from our home."

Then she ran back to the house, making the motions of the flying fishes with her hands.

"If I were an honorable boy," she cried, "I would sail away from Japan to every country where there are dragons, and kill them all. Then I would come back home again and tell all about it, so that all the children and their children, as long as Japan lasts, would learn about me!"

Tara looked at UmÉ as contemptuously as a Japanese boy ever looks at his sister, which is not saying much, because in Japan the boys and girls are taught to be most polite to each other.

"That is not the way of a true patriot," he said. "We men must stay at home and defend our country from enemies that may attack us from without. True glory will find us; we do not need to run all over the world looking for it, and then perhaps, miss it after all."

"Well spoken, my son," said his father from the veranda, where he had heard Tara's words. To UmÉ he said, "Our bravest men, the men who have given their lives for their country, and whose names will ever be spoken with reverence by our children's children, have died in the home-land."

He spoke solemnly, and Tara, who adored his father, moved close to his side as if to catch his brave spirit.

UmÉ also loved her father. She was grieved that he should speak to her in a tone of rebuke. She whirled about and fluttered to his other side, nestling under his arm and smiling the sweetest of smiles up into his face.

"Now I see, O Chichi San, why we fly the brave carp for our boys," she said prettily, "and why we steep the hardy iris flower in their bath water."

Her father looked down into her face. "You knew that very well before," he said with a smile. "You have heard of the wonderful strength of the carp ever since Tara was born. You know that every father who flies a paper carp for his son at this festival time does it with the hope that the boy will heed the sign and grow courageous and strong to overcome every obstacle."

But UmÉ still smiled up into her father's face. She felt that he was not yet quite pleased with her.

"Will you not come home early from the honorable business and tell us stories of the old war heroes?" she asked softly. "The mother tells them faithfully well, leaving out no brave detail, but she has never fought, as you have done, for our beloved Emperor. It is you alone who can make us feel the joy of battle so that even I wish I could wear a sword and fight with it for our country."

UmÉ had conquered. Her father put his hand upon her head in loving consent. "When our women also are ready to give their lives for Japan," he said, "the country will never suffer defeat."

But UmÉ told her cousin Tei later in the day that one need not always fight to win a victory.