—yes, a nameless thing—it is enough to crush her hopes for time and eternity. Just here I must tell you that our village woman is a nameless thing, absolutely without a name! In the previous chapter I said that the little girl is given some sort of a name to distinguish her from the other children in the family. When she is married this name falls from her as the leaves fall from the trees at the first blast of winter's chilling winds. The day she is married she loses not only her name but in a large measure her very identity, and is known thereafter only as Mr. So-and-So's wife; or, more correctly, as Mr. So-and-So's house. When her husband speaks of her (he won't do it if he can well avoid it), he calls her "my house," or, to be more exact, "the inside of my house." Then there is another expression often used in this same connection—"that thing," or "what-you-may-call-it." He always addresses her in low talk, and considers her his inferior in every respect. She does not sit at table with him; she serves while he eats. It should be remembered that Koreans do not eat from a common table as we do, but from individual tables. But even then she does not have her table in the same room at the same time with her lord and master. While he eats she stands, perhaps in the cook shed, but always within earshot of her master. If he wants another bowl of water or other article, he yells out: "See here, what-you-may-call-it, bring me some water." When his meal has been finished he yells for her again, and she appears and carries the table away. After all this service has been well performed, she eats her meal,
