Chapter III: Part 3

But the problem is not solved yet. The government has issued another decree, obliging the priests to make an inventory of the treasures of the temple, and to see that no more _kakemonos_ are sold. He that has secured one of these works of art, therefore, has great cause for congratulation. But one still wonders what is to become of the hungry priests, and the shamefully-treated prophet of India. The question is made more interesting because Buddha shows about as much indication of returning to his native land as the priests do to begin listening to the teachings of their hearts.

A GLIMPSE OF ROYALTY.

“You must go to Nara,” they told us, as soon as we had landed in Japan. “It is one of the oldest and most sacred cities of the Empire. Though now politically of little importance, there are many interesting things to be seen. There are beautiful groves of cryptomerias, shadowy roads, crumbling stone lanterns, tame deer, and many an ancient Shinto temple. If you do not see Nara, you do not see Japan.”

And so on a certain April morning we found ourselves on our way to the southern part of the island.

You have heard much of the sunshine and the flowers, the tea-drinking, and the various æsthetic touches of Japanese life, so it may be somewhat disillusioning to learn that there are other points of view. This thought forces itself upon my mind whenever I think of our watery journey to Nara,--for it rains in Japan. The days can be cold and dark, hotel accommodations can be scanty, and foreigners can take a long and hungry railroad ride, and have impressions that they do not care to put down in a book of travels. We had heard the praises of the journey so rapturously sung, that the rainy mountains, the swollen streams, the dripping trees, the cold, wet, and uncomfortable passengers, struck us with a painful sense of the reality of things. As yet I had experienced only the warm and sunshiny side of the climate, and so, as I stepped from the train that afternoon, and gazed about on the various signs of general discomfort, I could but ask myself, “Is this Japan?”

Yes, it was Japan, and more than that, it was Nara. If I had any reasonable doubt, before me stood the everlasting symbol of things Japanese,--the _jinrikisha_ man. He had a melancholy and rainy-weather look, which was increased by the freedom with which he had discarded his usual costume and appeared wrapped in a covering of straw. Such a picturesque equipage and ingenuous attendant look well in a photograph, and can even afford a certain amount of pleasure in a busy city with plenty of daylight and interesting objects as a background; but as I stood there, facing the downpour and a two-mile ride, I began to wonder whether the ancient capital of Japan was such a fascinating study as my friends had promised.

For all that, I crawled in, and my stoical friend began to arrange me with a tenderness of which his face betrayed no sign. He drew a leather robe over my lap, tucked it in to keep out the least intruding drop of rain, drew the top of the carriage completely over and shut me in, much after the way in which my grandmother used to draw her sunbonnet over her face. Everything was dark and mysterious, and had I been of a nervous temperament there would have been much to terrify. I began to wonder how the rest of the party was getting on; but the blind faith that there was a _jinrikisha_ somewhere back of me could not be confirmed until I had reached the end.

I could feel small streams of water trickling down my neck, and pools gathered in the bottom of the carriage. It began to splash into my face and hands; the wind came pouring in, and a blast occasionally unloosened my lap robe. I was surrounded by impenetrable darkness, with the exception of a small aperture below, where I caught sight of a pair of uncovered legs automatically moving. I divined that these were the property of the gentleman who had arranged me in my present position with such extreme solicitude, and whose spirit would have been keenly pained had he known that so large a portion of the storm was finding its way into the carriage. His utter disregard of himself had a suggestion of the sublime; for, though the day was cold, he had on hardly more than a covering of straw, and his bare feet went through the mud and pools with the utmost indifference. I learned afterward that his limited wardrobe was not so real as apparent, and that his appearance that afternoon was caused not so much by poverty as by pride; for this _jinrikisha_ man occupied an enviable position among his fellows, and had reason to consider himself a favourite of fortune. This is all explained when I tell you that he was the haughty possessor of a pair of European trousers. It mattered little to him that these might have been thrown aside by some more fastidious American, or that the style might have been a little behind the time. They were the chief glory of his life,--and the chief torment too. No one can say how much his melancholy aspect was caused by the fact that fate had heaped such bountiful favours and grave responsibilities on his head,--for he lived under the constant fear that some day he might wear these trousers out. And so, with the true Japanese spirit of economy, he had hit upon an excellent plan against such a contingency,--he resolved not to wear them at all.

This unconscious humourist furnished the only diversion of the ride. Doubtless I passed through many delightful scenes, and might have caught many charming bits of Japanese rural life. I shall never know how those tea-fields looked in that pouring rain, and the plodding Orientals that must have passed are a sealed picture. I could occasionally hear the tall trees swaying and scraping together in the cold breeze, but they were not for the eye. All that I could see was a small square of mud and water, and the mournful movement of the untrousered legs below. These were very instructive as object-lessons in domestic economy, but I would have preferred to have enough landscape to set them off to better advantage. Such an interesting thing, however, was enough in itself to keep my spirit up, and I thoroughly enjoyed the ride, in spite of the many things I could not see. My faithful friend unconsciously kept up a stock of that good humour which was soon to be called into play; for when we had reached the hotel where we were to spend the night, the guide came gloomily towards us and made the announcement that the house was full, and that we would be obliged to find some other place. He said that he had succeeded in finding a small Japanese house near by, and that this was the best that could be done.

It was still raining hard, the night was getting dark, and there was nothing for us to do but to take what we could get; and I do not know that we regretted it after all. The approach to the house was not convenient, but the place itself was of the true Japanese daintiness: a tiny affair, with but one story, the earthquakes having been duly considered in its erection. It contained but two rooms, and resembled more a child’s play-house than a dwelling. It was furnished with the ever-present white mats that are so prominent a feature of Japanese domestic life. We decided to conform ourselves to our surroundings, and be distinctively Japanese. So, carefully removing our shoes, we sat down on our heels, while the guide departed to see what could be found to eat. This oriental posture is very interesting as an experiment, but I would not advise you to let your enthusiasm carry you too far. If you have spent hours on the floor with a child playing with paper dolls, you can get a good idea of what it is like. Our first intention was to spend the whole evening in this way, and in other respects to do as the Japanese did, but we soon found that the effect was mainly valuable as furnishing a few jokes to enliven the conversation. And when we thought of eating our dinner after the fashion of the best Japanese society, we again became irresolute, and were greatly relieved when one of the little _musmees_ returned with American dishes and American chairs. Thereafter we let our attendants look after the honour of Japan. They amused us during the progress of the meal by tying and untying their sashes,--their chief feminine vanity,--and by indulging in the endless capers and familiarities permitted to the _musmee_ alone. The evening passed rapidly and gaily, and the wind and rain were forgotten in the Japanese dreams that followed the artless speeches and childish pranks of our little entertainers.

A soft, grey light came streaming through the paper panes, and in my drowsy ears I heard the chatter of the _musmees_, telling us that it was morning, and time to be on our way. The storm was not entirely over, though it was indulging in a momentary pause. The water was dripping from the trees, only waiting for the sunlight to pierce through the heavy clouds to clothe every leaf with sparkling gems. The sky had an air of indefiniteness and unconcern, in doubt whether to repeat its performance of the day before, or to burst forth into that splendour with which we were more familiar. There was nothing lacking but this for a perfect day; the wind had worn itself out during the night, the atmosphere was assuming a more oriental gentleness, the flowers were fresh and bright, and our hearts were full of gay anticipation. We had little time during the day and evening previous to think of one great predominant fact: that we were at the far-famed city of Southern Japan, warm with tradition and beauty, its history alive with the early tales of a struggling people, its temples and shrines aglow with much that is finest in human sentiment.

We were surprised at our breakfast by the hurried entrance of our guide. He was a man of considerable refinement and composure, and we were therefore taken aback at the excitement that he now displayed. With bated breath he explained to us that the unforeseen had happened, though whether this was a matter of congratulation his demeanour did not make clear. If you are familiar enough with the mixture of reverence and love with which the Japanese regard their dowager Empress, you will readily understand the agitation of our guide. She is an exalted being, the wife of one Mikado and the mother of another, and is besides a most estimable woman with lovable qualities of her own. So when the guide learned that she was at the present time at Nara and would be there for the rest of the day, his emotions of loyalty and awe had a sudden inspiration, and there was nothing for him to do but to try to communicate them to us. After we had satisfied him that we were duly impressed by the situation, he consented to descend to particulars. One of the most ancient ceremonies at Nara is the sacred dance which is yearly given in the adjoining grounds of one of the temples, and at which some member of the royal family is expected to be present. That her Majesty should select the very day that we had appointed to visit the place can only be considered as a happy coincidence of fate. Preparations had been going on for many days, and everything was ready for a most elaborate performance. At this point the guide became somewhat mysterious, and began to hint that possibly after the royal party had finished we might persuade the priests to repeat the dance for our benefit. Of course we were duly shocked that any such thing should be done, but we smothered our reverential emotions, and decided to make the attempt. I all along suspected that our friend had completed arrangements before he had spoken to us, but he betrayed no evidence of this in his anxiety lest his plan should fail. To confess the truth, I did not feel quite at ease over the matter, for the Empress had been painted to me in a rather unpleasant light, and I was very much afraid of offending her royal pride. I had been told that she regarded foreigners with an unfriendly eye, and was jealous of the innovations that were creeping in from the West, and gradually making the real Japan a thing of the past. It was said that she looked upon the European costume as a thing to be abhorred, and the silk hat as a sign of barbarism. Particularly, my friends had been kind enough to inform me that she regarded the American race as a peculiarly unpleasant growth, and one to be tolerated by no respectable Japanese. Though I discovered later that my information was wrong, the thought sufficed to make me uncomfortable, and I felt that to intrude upon a ceremony intended only for the royal eye, was audacious and indelicate. The assurance of the guide that this had been done before did not mend the matter, and I had some twinges of conscience as I stepped into the _jinrikisha_ awaiting to conduct me to the temple grounds.

As we rode out of the court-yard, we observed an interested throng gathered around an equipage of a kind somewhat difficult to classify. Had we seen it in an American city we should have taken it for a dilapidated victoria; but it was hard to determine what connection such a disreputable affair could have with the mother of the Mikado. The whole thing, from the ragged upholstering to the rickety wheels, had a most unroyal appearance. The small, shaggy horse may have been having a good time, but he failed to reveal it by any expression of contentment. The coachman, however, managed to extract much satisfaction from the situation. He had the bristling, black hair so characteristic of the people, and on the back of this he wore a small, low-crowned derby hat, gracefully cocked on one side, with an air of great self-satisfaction. His dress was the not uncommon combination of Japanese _kimono_ and European trousers, the latter being carefully creased, and turned up to display his American shoes. His studied attempt to appear dignified was made the more amusing by the shortness of his stature; but the crowd was not amused. The Japanese take this sort of thing seriously, and the only emotions their faces displayed before this cosmopolitan outburst were those of envy and admiration. When my attendant informed me that this was the equipage provided for the first lady of Japan, I began to suspect that her reported dislike of western civilisation was unreal. I told the _jinrikisha_ man to hurry on before she came out, as I was anxious to escape her observation.

We entered the temple-grounds by a long avenue arched over by tall cryptomerias, which extended in a tangled forest on either side. Through the wistaria vines, almost as dense as a jungle, occasional glimpses of the sky could be seen. There was little sunshine, and the morning had the air of twilight. The avenue extended in a long and regular line ahead, and seemed a fitting entrance to the most sacred shrine of Japan. A gentle touch was given the whole scene by a number of tame deer that find safe abode in these forests, where the hunter is unknown. As they came up to us and looked into our faces with their large, confiding eyes, they were followed by a troop of little girls who had cakes to sell, of which the animals were very fond. Little was said, for we all felt that we were in a sacred atmosphere, and the quieting influence of the past was beginning to steal over us. The endless array of those famous stone lanterns, ranged on both sides of the avenue, was a fitting suggestion of former glory; the days of many of these had long gone by, and they were slowly crumbling in ruins. We were told by our guide that occasionally one was lighted, but most of them had been extinct for years. Before us we could see the pavilion where the dance was to take place. It was a simple roof supported by columns, its floor the mat-covered earth. The priests were walking around in their stately white robes and fly-screen shaped hats, with little priestesses by their side. We had abandoned our _jinrikishas_ on entering the grove, and now walked slowly along, thinking of nothing but the trees, the stone lanterns, the deer, and the general beauty of the scene. Even the Empress had been forgotten, until, happening to glance back, I was startled to see the royal carriage with the sedate coachman on the seat, ambling along at a leisurely Japanese gait. A few seconds later it stopped, and the Empress and her retinue alighted, with the apparent intention of doing the rest of the journey on foot. Wishing to avoid observation, we quickly stepped behind one of the stone lanterns at a turn of the road. Unfortunately we were not quick enough, or the glance of her Majesty was too keen, for our presence and hurried movement did not escape her. As she slowly passed we had a good opportunity to observe her closely, and in spite of the disagreeable stories we had heard, the impression was not an unfavourable one. She was apparently seventy years of age, with an intelligent and kindly face, having by no means the severe demeanour we had been led to expect. She was dressed in the old-time Japanese style, with bright red skirt and white satin _kimono_. Her hair was arranged in a kind of a halo, falling down her shoulders in the back. All the ladies in her train were dressed in a similar style, but the men were attired after the European fashion,--in the prevailing court costume. The chamberlain of the household department, an elderly man, was in charge of affairs. As the procession neared our place of vantage, it turned to the right in the direction of the Temple-grounds. We were about to congratulate ourselves that we were to escape unseen, when her Majesty turned completely around and subjected us to a scrutiny that was embarrassing, however kindly meant. I bowed with a reverence that would have done credit to the most obsequious Oriental, and at the same time the men of the party lifted their hats in approved occidental style. The ladies and gentlemen of the royal retinue returned our greetings with a politeness that rivalled our own, but the Empress did not incline her body in the least. She continued gazing at us with the same puzzled expression, yet with no indication of displeasure. Apparently satisfied with what she had seen, she presently passed on. The few moments had been embarrassing for us, for we did not know of how many breaches of propriety we might have been guilty; and our salutations had not been without a touch of penitence as well as respect.

The Empress had hardly disappeared when one of the priests, with long robes waving in the wind, came running towards us. We were now confident that he had some message from the Empress, and were fearful that the long-expected dislike of foreigners was to be shown. This idea could hardly have been gained from the priest’s face, however, as it betrayed no evidence of offended dignity, though there were signs of anxiety and surprise. He paid no attention to us, but immediately engaged our guide in an earnest conversation, the conclusion of which we waited with some apprehension. Finally our attendant turned and spoke to us in the following surprising terms,--

“Her Majesty has learned with pleasure that you have come so far to see the sacred dance, and is very glad that you have happened here the same day as herself. She is very unwilling, however, that you should be kept standing while she witnesses the performance, but thinks that you should be treated with all the kindness and hospitality of Japan. She has therefore sent one of the priests to bid you greeting, and offers you the seats that have been prepared for herself and party; and she will feel very much offended if you do not accept.”

These words affected us with mingled feelings of astonishment, flattery, and embarrassment. We had heard much of the politeness of the Japanese, but here was a unique expression of it; one could hardly receive more. And what had become of the dislike for foreigners which I had been told was so prominent a trait in her character? We were somewhat in doubt as to what was the right thing to do, and stood there gazing at each other for a few moments, waiting for some one to take the initiative.

“I hope you will thank her Majesty for us,” I finally answered, “but we could not think of taking her place at the dance. We can just as conveniently wait until she has finished. We all, however, very deeply feel her kindness.”

“Oh, but you must come--you must come,” hurriedly returned the guide, dropping a little of his formality in his fear that we would not accept. “The Empress would not like it at all if you refused her invitation. She says that she can see it at any time, but you have come from far over the seas, and must see it to-day or never. You cannot decline,--it would never do.”

Without considering the possibility of our refusal any further, he and the priest immediately led the way. There was nothing for us to do but to follow; and the faces of our Japanese friends were wreathed in smiles as they saw that we had overcome our scruples. We were much relieved on our arrival to find that the Empress and her train had gone to the northern part of the temple to perform their devotions. However much we would have liked to thank her in person, our acquaintance with Japanese court etiquette was not such that we could know just how it should be done. With a genuine oriental awe we seated ourselves in the chairs that had been destined for the venerable Empress, and from the cups made for nobler hands drank the tea that was meant for royal lips. We soon found ourselves in a more comfortable frame of mind, and by the time the dance had begun, we were in a condition to enjoy it.

There is not much variety in Japanese dancing, and that which we saw on this occasion differed little from many similar performances we had attended. There were five little girls, ranging from nine to twelve years of age, dressed in the old imperial costume of red silk, with divided skirts, the white _kimono_ being covered by another of gauze, painted with purple wistaria. As usual, their faces were covered with white plaster, their lips were of a bright carmine, and their eyebrows shaved. Their hair, tied in gold paper, hung down their backs, and on their foreheads were clusters of wistaria and white camellias. The accompaniment was furnished by two priests, one performing on a kind of fife, the other provided with two small sticks of wood, which he struck together, at the same time that the chief priest delivered, in a high-pitched voice, notes very suggestive of the Midway Plaisance. The dancing consisted of the slow posturing that the Orientals so much prefer to the agile movements of the West, and we had begun to catch the spirit of it, and were able to enjoy it after the true Japanese style.

We saw no more of the Empress who so disliked foreigners, but who could treat them with such delicacy. We had another indication of her kindly disposition, however, after we had left the pavilion at the conclusion of the dance. Outside stood the sacred white horse always to be found near these ancient temples, and one of the little girl attendants stood by, selling the peculiar mixture which forms his only food. After I had done my duty by the divine animal, I took the hand of the little girl, who looked up into my eyes and said,--

“Her Majesty has just gone by. She was very gentle to me, and gave the sacred horse many measures of grain.”

FIN DE SIÈCLE JAPAN.

You must not think that you are a person of no consequence if you do not receive an invitation to the Mikado’s garden-party, for there are a great many important people not always on his Majesty’s list. I cannot tell you just what are the necessary qualifications to the royal favour, for the presence of the entire diplomatic corps is not always requested, the pride of many a native noble receives a fall, and no one knows what anguish of mind the majority of the democratic Americans in Yokohama experience at not receiving a card. Perhaps the most fortunate thing connected with the party is the delicate flower that is its most prominent feature; everything in Japan connected with the cherry-blossom is sacred, and this probably accounts, to some extent, for the chariness with which the Mikado distributes his favours. In October the advent of the chrysanthemum is similarly observed, but this function is not as important as that held in April. Everything depends on the capriciousness of the cherry-blossom, and the party is given early or late as the pink and white deign to display themselves to the worshipping Japanese. Invitations, therefore, are issued only a few days in advance, and are then subject to recall should circumstances happen to prevent the spring-time flower from looking its daintiest.

The invitation is written in highly-refined Japanese with a sixteen-petaled chrysanthemum crest in gold. The party is held in the royal Asakusa garden, and the Mikado is always present with his slim, pretty little wife at his side. The guests are usually very punctual in assembling; the national anthem is played with a royal sonorousness; the Emperor and Empress, with a dignified suite, pass through the garden with the genuine stolidity of ceremonial Japan. Presentations are seldom made, and when there is a person of sufficient dignity and importance for this honour, the ceremony is more stately than cordial. The larger part of the time is spent in admiring the cherry-blossoms, which are everywhere, and which in their early glow are of singular beauty. All this is very well; yet it is not the Mikado or the flowers that are likely to attract the greater part of your attention. There is a feature of the party of more surpassing interest than these: this is the high hat. It is this picturesque head-piece which redeems the sombreness of the gathering, and makes it an event unique in social life. You are probably somewhat surprised that our occidental high hat and the delicate white and pink cherry-blossom of Japan should have anything in common, but they do have a great deal. Several years ago the Japanese saw that this article of dress was the very thing needed to crown gracefully their _kimono_-clad forms, and they eagerly took it. They borrowed it of course from western foreigners, for the Japanese imagination is not capable of such wild flights as this. It has so become the fashion that they now regard it with a kind of reverence, and require its appearance on the most sacred occasions. It is therefore specially stipulated in the Mikado’s invitations to his parties that the gentlemen shall wear frock coats and high hats. The ladies are left to their own judgment, and generally appear in light calling dresses.

But this stipulation has been the cause of no end of dismay to those foreigners so ambitious of social advancement in Japan. The American is more likely to suffer in this respect than his European cousins. At any rate it not unfrequently happens that when sailing for the land of the _kimono_ you leave your high hat on western shores. And so an invitation to the Mikado’s party affects you with mingled feelings of apprehension and tickled vanity. It is a case where a beaver hat can be quite a serious affair. At first you give up in despair, and decide that the invitation must be declined, but on second thought you think it might be well to consult your confidential Japanese friend. You are somewhat relieved when this gentleman assures you that everything can be arranged, and that there is nothing to prevent your attending the party,--and in a high hat too. The Japanese friend now murmurs something about “The Beaver Pound,” and you immediately recall certain institutions at home where stray animals are gathered from their wanderings, and protectingly held until the requirements of the law are fulfilled. You are a much puzzled man; but after you have been conducted to the place mentioned, this state of mind is likely to give place to another. With the utmost gravity your friend discloses to you the treasures of the place, and politely invites you to help yourself. For here are high hats, both silk and beaver, of all sizes, ages, and countries, and you must be a very fastidious person indeed if you find nothing to your taste. Every time a westerner leaves a high hat behind him it is immediately spirited away by mysterious hands, and it is seen no more until it graces the head of a careless foreigner at some social occasion of more than common import. By this time there is quite a collection, ragged and marred as the coins and stamps that are a frequent hobby with us.

You had better visit the Pound early, as the hats are in great demand, and you may have difficulty in fitting your head. You finally make a choice; the likelihood being at best that you will have a size too large or small, but this is only the simplest of the complications. You are by no means the first man that has worn this hat, and it shows the effects of many cherry-blossom parties. Occasionally a new sleek hat finds its way into the Pound, and there is considerable competition as to who shall secure the prize. You had better in some way exhaust all the humour that the idea gives you before you attend the party, else you will not have sufficient command over yourself to view the occasion with the stoical eye of the Japanese; for the hats show off to a better advantage from a comparative point of view. You must place a neat, decorous, low crown of the latest style beside the parabolic curve of several years ago to see really how funny it all is. There is the white and drab head-piece, suggestive of the gentleman of sporting tastes, and an occasional shaggy something that we now see only in pictorial representations of Uncle Sam. All this is very amusing; but it is a graver matter when a young man of eighteen has to parade around in a widower’s weed, or a staid clergyman or pompous Member of Congress is obliged to hide behind the trees in order to conceal the fact that his head is adorned by one of the little peaked affairs in vogue a long time ago. Nor are these the only things in the same line. The ladies of the court have caught that disease which is spreading so rapidly in Japan, -- Europamania, -- and have cast aside their beautiful native costumes for a western dress. Their success at best is doubtful, but there is one who seems to have managed things with a greater skill. You will likely wonder how the Mikado’s wife can look so well when you have heard of the difficulties she has to undergo in her desire to dress like a European lady. Her person is too sacred to be touched by vulgar hands, and this unfortunate fact interfered with her progressive plans for some time, until the problem was solved by fitting her dresses upon one of her attendants of similar height and figure. In spite of this inconvenience, the Empress appears very well, and is one of the few Japanese ladies who wears the European costume with dignity and grace.

Yet all this is only a fair example of what you may see in any part of Japan. The changes that have been sweeping over the country have not been confined to political institutions, but have affected the most trifling details of Japanese life. It makes no matter where you go, or the people you meet, everything bears the traces of the new lands and peoples that have found such favour in their eyes. To any one who has a taste for the picturesque, the attempts of the Japanese at cosmopolitanism are an interesting field of study. The background of their life is, of course, the Japan of ages gone by, with its Mikado, its flowers, its sunshine, and its tea; but upon this are sprinkled the innumerable foreign traits that make everything grotesquely amusing. With their Mikado they have parliamentary government, and though they are perhaps as fond of their tea as ever, they can occasionally lay it aside for the champagne of the West, and beer flows almost as freely as in Germany itself.

We Americans may take a pride in all this, and may feel delighted that the Japanese will christen themselves with such names as George Washington and Abraham Lincoln; yet I have my doubts whether it is not a mistaken idea of development that persuades us to dignify it by the name of progress. The Japanese are extremely quick and imitative, but like most imitative people, they are likely to perceive only what is most obvious, and so become grotesque. They can see that there are many attractive things about the feminine attire of the West; they fail to see that it is not suitable to themselves. It is a question, after all, whether it is the preferable qualities of the new things which they meet that leads them to adopt them, or whether it is a mania simply for what is new. At the best they are in a stage of transition. The East is constantly touching the West, and the average Japanese to-day is an interesting combination of the inherited traits and emotions of a remote civilisation, and an environment too powerful to be resisted.

You will understand all this immediately, should you take a short walk in one of the streets of a representative Japanese city. The appearance of the people will strike you as un-Japanese. The women, as a rule, do not now blacken their teeth, or shave their eyebrows, as you have been brought up to suppose. There are still, it is true, many who do not like to see these usages die out; but most of them live in the country districts, which have naturally not been affected by the changes in the same way that the cities have. The old women still go around with blackened teeth, but it is because they were disfigured this way before the innovation was introduced. The Empress adopted the new idea a few years ago, and the people have rapidly followed. Most of the women still wear the dress of their ancestors, yet it is doubtful whether this is by inclination or necessity; anything in a foreign line is a luxury, and only the higher classes can afford to follow the style. They still retain their peculiar ambling walk, which is like a slow run, but there are many little indications that this will be abandoned soon.

It is in the dress of the men, however, that the greatest changes are to be seen. The number of combinations that the average Japanese can ring upon _kimono_ and coat and trousers, I have never yet tried to count, but you cannot go into a city street without seeing a new one. It is sometimes the _kimono_ and trousers, sometimes the trousers without the _kimono_, or the _kimono_ without the trousers. They view the derby hat with great favour, and some wear their hair long, like an American football player. They have caught the infection of creased trousers, and take satisfaction in rolling up the ends of them in the clearest weather. I once saw an enthusiastic and progressive Jap walking stolidly through the streets with a small stiff hat perched on the back of his head, with his _kimono_ turned up in the back, disclosing a pair of flannel underdrawers, white stockings, and laced American shoes, the whole gracefully consummated by a cane, which he swung jauntily as he marched along. The conscious pride that he took in this outfit was something delightful to see, and the serious and possibly envious glances showered upon him by his friends showed that he was a centre of admiration.

I was surprised one day by a vehicle that I saw slowly creeping up one of the streets of Tokio. It was a small affair, with a single horse in front, the approach of which was announced by the mournful jingle of a bell. At a distance the equipage looked like a little yellow box, and it was some time before I could convince myself that it was a sorry specimen of that most American of institutions,--a horse-car. I learned later that it was only Tokio that could boast of such an incongruity, and the contented and proud air of the driver was in itself an indication that his position was an unusual one. It was rather the idea of the thing that was so delightful, for so far as convenience was concerned, the slow motion of the car could not be thought much of an improvement over the _jinrikisha_.

I have a Japanese friend who had been educated in America and had adopted our ways, who relates an amusing experience he had in connection with this strange innovation. The cars have bells and conductors after the American plan; but, unlike our custom, they are used for the purpose for which they are designed. My friend did not know this, and so when he wished to alight he walked out to the platform and jumped off while the car was in motion. He had not gone far, however, when he saw the conductor running frantically after him, with an air of the utmost consternation. The car was stopped, and quite a crowd collected to watch the outcome of the dispute. My friend was astonished, and completely in the dark as to what it all meant, when the conductor in angry tones asked him how he dared to disregard the law by alighting from a horse-car while it was going at full speed? The accused man protested his ignorance of such a statute; but the conductor was unpacified, and threatened to call a policeman. It was only when he learned that his unruly passenger had lately returned from America, where they do all kinds of barbarous things, and where he had learned to disregard the conductor, that he consented to let him go. My friend received a solemn warning never to repeat the act, and on so promising was reluctantly released.

Many other things in the streets will remind you of home. It is nothing strange to see a bicycle come leisurely down the street, perched upon by a Jap clad in the combination of trousers and _kimono_ that most strikes his fancy. The electric light is rapidly being introduced. The Japanese have their policeman, and they dress him after the European style. He has a blue uniform, a small peaked hat, and a club,--but here the comparison must cease. He does not exactly know what to do with all the power bestowed upon him, and he will never arrest a man except on extreme provocation. When he does decide to enforce the dignity of the law, he calmly goes up to his prisoner, ties his hands together with a hempen rope, and leads him off with the utmost gentleness.

The English language suffers at the hands of our commercial friends, and their attempts to catch the American trade in this way reveal many startling things. One shop informs us that “cakes and infections” are found within; but the best thing in this line I have seen, is the following business card of a Yokohama firm: “Jewelry maker, a finest in town, Whiskey Boy. Our shop is best and obliging worker that have everybody known, and having articles genuine Japanese crystal and all kinds of Curious Stones, Shells, Ivory Cats-eyes--work own name on monograms or any design according to orders. We can works how much difficult Job with lowest price insure, please try, once try. Don’t forget name Whisky.”

English, however, is spoken fairly well, and with what Japanese he will pick up, the average foreigner gets along without much trouble. There has been lately introduced that ever-present travelling companion, the phrase-book, in which we are told how to ask the time of day, what we want for dinner, and other needful questions; but the language is so strange in its construction, that few have courage to try anything very elaborate, and for more intricate matters must rely upon the guide, who usually speaks our language with fluency. One of the men of our party tried on a certain occasion to show a little gallantry to his attending _geisha_, and began to tell her, by the aid of a phrase-book, that she had very beautiful eyes. He thought that he had succeeded so well in this that he would go one step further, and presumed to inform her that they shone like the stars. You will see that this latter is not only a more delicate compliment, but that it is a more involved sentence, and requires knowledge of grammatical construction not essential to the more simple statement. The little _geisha_ did not understand him at all, but he kept at it persistingly almost the entire evening. Finally the interpreter was called in, and the puzzling speech was rendered into Japanese. The girl glanced coyly up and replied: “Oh, but there are a great many favoured in the same way.” After that our friend gave up the phrase-book, and conducted his future gallantries by means of an interpreter.

The Japanese have learned more things from the visits of foreigners than a change of costume and the art of war. Perhaps the spirit of trickery is inborn, but the numerous signs we saw of this were of an order that would do credit to the shrewdest Yankee. One of our party was always a little sensitive to any reference to ducks, and I myself had an experience with certain artistic representations of dragons of which I was frequently reminded by my friends. Our companion, while taking an evening walk in Kioto, had been attracted by a certain individual carrying, by means of shoulder straps, a miniature pond, in which there were very dainty images of ducks swimming around as naturally as you could wish. He paused to watch the proceeding, and became deeply interested. His enthusiasm reached its height when he saw the fowls occasionally dive under the water and reappear, apparently greatly refreshed by the plunge. My friend excitedly asked the price of these phenomenal birds, paid down a large sum with great willingness, received a paper with instructions as to the way to produce the desired effect, and started for the hotel. Arriving there, he began to read the paper in order to prepare for the first exhibition. He was somewhat chagrined by being advised therein to buy a few sprightly gold fish, attach them to the ducks, place both on the water, and await developments.

And now, I suppose, it would be only fair to tell you how I was victimised by a similar piece of roguery. I had not been in Japan long enough to distinguish the good shops from the bad, nor to know the proper methods of collecting curios. I was attracted one morning by a graphic representation of a woman sitting on a dragon, the whole evidently the work of a Japanese sculptor. The colour of the image, a rich dark brown, was what particularly struck my fancy. The keeper of the shop informed me that it was a rare piece of art, that it was made of a certain sacred wood, and that the price was thirty dollars. I did not buy that morning. In the evening we took a walk through one of the busy streets, and lo! here was an itinerant merchant with my dragon at his side, anxiously looking for a customer. I quickly stepped up to him, and listened to the same tale I had heard in the morning, with one important exception,--the price was now eighty-five cents. Perhaps because I thought I was getting a bargain, perhaps out of curiosity, I purchased the statue, had it done up in paper, and departed with my treasure. Before I showed it to my friends I thought I would wash it a little, as it had a very dusty look, and would be improved by a bath. I was somewhat startled to see the rich dark brown colour fade away and leave me a pure white dragon of a cheap Japanese material resembling plaster-of-paris. I called in the guide, who gave a broad grin as he surveyed the melancholy object before me. He kindly told me that it had been “dipped in medicine,” and I made him a present of the curiosity for his information. He bore it away with a satisfied air, and that was the last I saw of my dark brown dragon,--though by no means the last I heard of it.

These are only a few of the ways in which the influence of the West can be traced in Japan. It will be interesting to watch what the next few years will bring about; whether the _kimono_ will triumph over the trousers, the tea over the beer, or whether there will be a gradual mingling into a new type. The whole thing may be but a temporary mania, a passing aberration of a quickly assimilative people; and perhaps in a few years the progressive Japanese will see the folly of his ways, and learn that he can best advance after a manner of his own.

CHO AND EBA.

They were surely not the most distinguished friends we made while we were in Japan. As far as worldly considerations went, they were very humble indeed; but they possessed other qualifications which entitled them to our favour, and the youthful Eba particularly has left a lasting impression on our minds. Throughout our stay they were our companions; we could never visit a temple without their aid, nor climb a mountain without their words of advice and encouragement. On many a shopping expedition did they faithfully act as our guides, and many a quiet hint would they give us as to the commercial wiles of their countrymen.

Cho and Eba belonged to the most insignificant class of oriental society. In a land where caste is of such importance, I know that any of our aristocratic Japanese friends would be horrified to learn that we entertain so kindly a remembrance of these paltry creatures, to whom the haughty noblemen of the East would hardly deign to give a passing glance. Perhaps it was because we treated them differently that they repaid us with such tender regard and would apparently sacrifice any happiness of their own to give us a momentary satisfaction. For our humble friends were _jinrikisha_ men, and, more than that, they belonged to the despised class of the coolies. Before you have travelled long in Japan you will become very familiar with the two-wheeled conveyance which has become an institution of the country, and will take a patriotic interest in it, for it is reported to be the invention of an American. It is a low carriage with shafts, in which a toiling coolie acceptably fills the place of a horse, and it is preferred by the Japanese to the most elaborate coach-and-four of the West. It was for this position in the world that Cho and Eba were born, and in this capacity they proved indispensable to us.

It was at our landing that we met them for the first time, and had our first _jinrikisha_ ride. As you step upon the soil of Japan, you will see a long row of these carriages with shafts resting on the ground, and at the same time a corresponding row of unobtrusive natives who accost you with a most respectful air. They have been sitting between the shafts, with their hands around their knees, patiently awaiting the landing of the boat, when they know their services will be required to conduct the passengers to the Grand Hotel. They have spent the time in laughing at each other and cracking Japanese jokes, for the amount of merriment they can get out of life seems without end. If the air is cold, they will be wrapped up in blankets, and will remind you of our western Indians; but oftener their covering consists of the simple blue tights which will become so familiar to you in the days to come. If you are so unfortunate as to land on a rainy day, they will throw this aside for a covering of straw with bare feet and legs; but the weather will not affect their spirits at all, and they will sit with the water pouring down upon them, and crack the same old jokes, and laugh with an appreciation to which the sunshine can add nothing. They wear the regulation mushroom hat, with their name and number inscribed across the front.

You will, of course, immediately call to mind the hackmen of the West, but more by way of contrast than comparison. The duties of each are in a large measure the same, but here they are exercised in a way that is entirely different. The Japs have none of the disagreeable aggressiveness of their western contemporaries; they are quiet and polite, preferring, indeed, that you should take the initiative in the transaction. It is very interesting to watch the outcome of a rivalry that sometimes occurs when two of the coolies hit upon the same patron. The angry dispute to which many of us are accustomed never takes place; they treat each other to smiles instead of scowls, and the unsuccessful aspirant leaves with a laugh to find a more appreciative customer. During my stay in Japan I hardly ever saw a discontented or angry _jinrikisha_ man, and if a genial smile and gentle manners are an indication of inward happiness, they are the happiest mortals it has been my lot to meet.

All this is very well, and yet it is with some hesitation that you decide to surrender yourself into the care of one of those unpromising equipages, and it was my first impulse to look around and see if something less oriental could not be had; but I quickly reproved myself, and remembered that I was in Japan. Meanwhile, my companion had arranged the matter, and I saw a little old man smilingly approaching, dragging the dreaded _jinrikisha_ behind him. His face was sadly wrinkled, his moustache was small and grizzled, and when he lifted his hat I saw that his hair was white. His spirit, however, seemed very buoyant, and not to have suffered from the many years of toil that would occasionally make his step a little unsteady. I felt a natural hesitation about permitting this little old man to drag me about the city; but the almost paternal air with which he assisted me into the carriage made me feel more at ease. Glancing at his cap, I saw that my new acquaintance bore the name of “Cho.”

I had hardly been comfortably seated when I saw my companion ride past, borne by much nimbler and more youthful legs than those of my poor old Cho. Riding in Japan is the most unsocial thing in the world. Each traveller has a _jinrikisha_ to himself, and the carriages are compelled by law to move in single file, so that the streets may not be blockaded. It is true that they will sometimes hold more than one person; but these conveyances are meant for the Japanese alone, who are so light that two can be carried by one man. The constant parade of the _jinrikishas_, therefore, through a large thoroughfare, is very interesting. It makes no difference how many people there may be in your party; one must follow another in regular order, or your offending coolie may find himself in the lock-up before the day is over. You can easily see the disadvantages of this state of affairs; it makes conversation almost impossible,--and who can travel with pleasure if he cannot talk?