LETTERS OF A JAVANESE PRINCESS
doubt, the pale lips always murmur that name. It is Mother, and again Mother who is called upon, if we need help, if we need support. The honour of motherhood lies in this, in the calling of her name in deep, sorrowful hours. Why do we not call upon our father—why just our mother? Because we feel from childhood, instinctively that Mother, means a world of love and devotion.
Each object that falls out of our hands is picked up with the saying; "Oh, Allah, my child." Do I have to explain the meaning of that to you, what it shows?
Stella, I shall work earnestly at your language, so that some day I may be such a mistress of it that I can make all that is beautiful among our people clear and intelligible to the outside world. I want to study my own language hard as well. I want to teach our people to know that white race as I know it in its finer, nobler aspects. They must learn of your nobleness, of your greatness, so that they will honour and love you. I want to do so much that sometimes I wish that I had a double pair of hands. The will is great, but the strength is little. And I must not injure my health, that would be the most stupid thing that I could do. And yet I am often stupid, sometimes sitting and working till late at night and that is not good for me. I may defeat my own object if in the end it should do me harm and I could not overcome my bodily weakness, so I am doing my best to live soberly and sensibly.
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