A long, long time ago there lived in a quiet spot a young man and his wife. They had one child, a little daughter, whom they both loved with all their hearts. I cannot tell you their names, for they long since have been forgotten; but the name of the place where they lived was Matsuyama, in one of the provinces of Japan.

It happened once, while the little girl was still a baby, that the father was obliged to go to the great city, the capital of Japan, upon some business. It was too far for the mother and her little one to go, and so he set out alone, after promising to bring home some pretty presents for them. The mother had never been farther from home than the next village, and she could not help being very anxious at the thought of the long journey her husband was about to take. Yet she was proud, too, for he was the first man in all that countryside who had been to the big town where the king and his great lords lived, and where there were so many beautiful and curious things to be seen.

At last the time came when she might expect her husband to return; so she dressed the baby in her best clothes, and herself put on an embroidered blue robe which she knew her husband liked. You may fancy how glad she was to see him home again, and how the little girl clapped her hands and laughed with delight when she saw the pretty toys her father had brought for her. He had much to tell of all the wonderful things he had seen upon his long journey, and in the great town which he had visited.

“I have brought you a very curious present,” said the young man to his wife. “Look, and tell me what you see inside of this.”

Then he gave her a plain, white wooden box, and when she had opened it, she found a round piece of metal. One side of the metal was white like frosted silver, and ornamented with raised figures of birds and flowers; the other side was bright as the clearest crystal. Into its shining surface the young mother looked with wonder and delight, for there she saw smiling at her, with parted lips and bright eyes, a happy, joyous face.

“What do you see?” again asked the husband, pleased at her astonishment, and glad to show that he had learned something while he had been away.

“I see a pretty woman looking at me, and she moves her lips as if she were speaking, and—how very odd, she has on a blue dress like mine!”

“Why, you silly woman, it is your own face that you see,” said the husband, proud of knowing something that his wife did not know. “That round piece of metal is called a mirror. In the city everybody has a mirror, but in this country place no one has ever before seen one.”

The wife was charmed with her present, and for a few days could not look into the mirror often enough; for you must remember that, as this was the first time she had seen a mirror, so of course it was the first time she had ever seen the reflection of her own fair face. But she considered such a wonderful thing far too precious for everyday use, and soon shut it up in its box again, and put it away carefully among her most valued treasures.

Years passed on, and the husband and wife still lived happily. The joy of their life was their little daughter, who grew up the very image of her mother, and who was so dutiful and affectionate that everybody loved her. Remembering her own passing vanity on finding herself so lovely in the mirror, the mother kept it carefully hidden away, fearing that its use might breed a spirit of pride in her little girl.

She never spoke of the mirror and the father had forgotten all about it. So it happened that the daughter grew up as simple as the mother had been, and knew nothing of her own good looks, or of the mirror which would have reflected them.

But by and by a sad misfortune came upon this happy little family. The good, kind mother became ill; and although her daughter waited upon her day and night with loving care, the sick woman grew worse and worse, until at last they knew that she must soon die.

When she found that she must leave her husband and child, the poor woman felt very sorrowful, grieving for those she should see no more, and most of all for her little daughter. She called the girl to her and said: “My darling child, you know that I am very ill: soon I must die, and leave your dear father and you alone. When I am gone, promise me that you will look into this mirror every night and every morning: there you shall see me and know that I am still watching over you.”

With these words she took the mirror from the secret place where it was kept, and gave it to her daughter. The child promised, with many tears, to obey, and the mother, having become calm and resigned, died within a short time.

Now the daughter never forgot her mother’s last request, but each morning and evening took the mirror from its hiding place and looked in it long and earnestly. There she saw the bright and smiling vision of her lost mother; not pale and sickly as she was in her last days, but young and beautiful as in the days of long ago. To her mother at night the young girl told the story of the trials and difficulties of the day; and to her mother in the morning she looked for sympathy and encouragement in whatever might be in store for her.

So day by day she lived as in her mother’s sight, striving still to please her as she had always done, and careful always to avoid whatever might pain or grieve her. The maiden’s greatest joy was to be able to look into the mirror and say: “Mother, I have been to-day what you would have me to be.”

Seeing that his daughter looked into the mirror every night and morning, and seemed to hold converse with it, her father at length asked her the reason of her strange behavior.

“Father,” she said, “I look into the mirror every day to see my dear mother and to talk with her.” Then she told him of her mother’s dying wish, and that she had never failed to fulfil it.

Touched by so much simplicity, and such faithful, loving obedience, the father shed tears of pity and affection. Nor could he find it in his heart to tell the child that the image she saw in the mirror was but the reflection of her own sweet face becoming day by day more and more like her dead mother’s.

—From the Japanese.