<h2><SPAN name="page77"></SPAN>LETTER X.—(<i>Completed</i>.)</h2>
<p>I <span class="smcap">have</span> had to do a little shopping
in Hachiishi for my journey. The shop-fronts, you must
understand, are all open, and at the height of the floor, about
two feet from the ground, there is a broad ledge of polished wood
on which you sit down. A woman everlastingly boiling water
on a bronze <i>hibachi</i>, or brazier, shifting the embers about
deftly with brass tongs like chopsticks, and with a baby looking
calmly over her shoulders, is the shopwoman; but she remains
indifferent till she imagines that you have a definite purpose of
buying, when she comes forward bowing to the ground, and I
politely rise and bow too. Then I or Ito ask the price of a
thing, and she names it, very likely asking 4s. for what ought to
sell at 6d. You say 3s., she laughs and says 3s. 6d.; you
say 2s., she laughs again and says 3s., offering you the
<i>tabako-bon</i>. Eventually the matter is compromised by
your giving her 1s., at which she appears quite delighted.
With a profusion of bows and “<i>sayo naras</i>” on
each side, you go away with the pleasant feeling of having given
an industrious woman twice as much as the thing was worth to her,
and less than what it is worth to you!</p>
<p>There are several barbers’ shops, and the evening seems
a very busy time with them. This operation partakes of the
general want of privacy of the life of the village, and is
performed in the raised open front of the shop. Soap is not
used, and the process is a painful one. The victims let
their garments fall to their waists, and each holds in his left
hand a lacquered tray to receive the croppings. The ugly
Japanese <SPAN name="page78"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
78</span>face at this time wears a most grotesque expression of
stolid resignation as it is held and pulled about by the
operator, who turns it in all directions, that he may judge of
the effect that he is producing. The shaving the face till
it is smooth and shiny, and the cutting, waxing, and tying of the
queue with twine made of paper, are among the evening sights of
Nikkô.</p>
<p>Lacquer and things curiously carved in wood are the great
attractions of the shops, but they interest me far less than the
objects of utility in Japanese daily life, with their ingenuity
of contrivance and perfection of adaptation and
workmanship. A seed shop, where seeds are truly idealised,
attracts me daily. Thirty varieties are offered for sale,
as various in form as they are in colour, and arranged most
artistically on stands, while some are put up in packages
decorated with what one may call a facsimile of the root, leaves,
and flower, in water-colours. A lad usually lies on the mat
behind executing these very creditable pictures—for such
they are—with a few bold and apparently careless strokes
with his brush. He gladly sold me a peony as a scrap for a
screen for 3 <i>sen</i>. My purchases, with this exception,
were necessaries only—a paper waterproof cloak, “a
circular,” black outside and yellow inside, made of square
sheets of oiled paper cemented together, and some large sheets of
the same for covering my baggage; and I succeeded in getting Ito
out of his obnoxious black wide-awake into a basin-shaped hat
like mine, for, ugly as I think him, he has a large share of
personal vanity, whitens his teeth, and powders his face
carefully before a mirror, and is in great dread of
sunburn. He powders his hands too, and polishes his nails,
and never goes out without gloves.</p>
<p>To-morrow I leave luxury behind and plunge into the interior,
hoping to emerge somehow upon the Sea of Japan. No
information can be got here except about the route to Niigata,
which I have decided not to take, so, after much study of
Brunton’s map, I have fixed upon one place, and have said
positively, “I go to Tajima.” If I reach it I
can get farther, but all I can learn is, “It’s a very
bad road, it’s all among the mountains.” Ito,
who has a great regard for his own comforts, tries to dissuade me
from going by saying that I shall lose mine, but, as these kind
people have ingeniously repaired my <SPAN name="page79"></SPAN>bed by doubling the canvas and lacing
it into holes in the side poles, <SPAN name="citation79"></SPAN><SPAN href="#footnote79" class="citation">[79]</SPAN> and as I have lived
for the last three days on rice, eggs, and coarse vermicelli
about the thickness and colour of earth-worms, this prospect does
not appal me! In Japan there is a Land Transport Company,
called <i>Riku-un-kaisha</i>, with a head-office in
Tôkiyô, and branches in various towns and
villages. It arranges for the transport of travellers and
merchandise by pack-horses and coolies at certain fixed rates,
and gives receipts in due form. It hires the horses from
the farmers, and makes a moderate profit on each transaction, but
saves the traveller from difficulties, delays, and
extortions. The prices vary considerably in different
districts, and are regulated by the price of forage, the state of
the roads, and the number of hireable horses. For a
<i>ri</i>, nearly 2½ miles, they charge from 6 to 10
<i>sen</i> for a horse and the man who leads it, for a
<i>kuruma</i> with one man from 4 to 9 <i>sen</i> for the same
distance, and for baggage coolies about the same. [This
Transport Company is admirably organised. I employed it in
journeys of over 1200 miles, and always found it efficient and
reliable.] I intend to make use of it always, much against
Ito’s wishes, who reckoned on many a prospective
“squeeze” in dealings with the farmers.</p>
<p>My journey will now be entirely over “unbeaten
tracks,” and will lead through what may be called
“Old Japan;” and as it will be natural to use
Japanese words for money and distances, for which there are no
English terms, I give them here. A <i>yen</i> is a note
representing a dollar, or about 3s. 7d. of our money; a
<i>sen</i> is something less than a halfpenny; a <i>rin</i> is a
thin round coin of iron or bronze, with a square hole in the
middle, of which 10 make a <i>sen</i>, and 1000 a <i>yen</i>; and
a <i>tempo</i> is a handsome oval bronze coin with a hole in the
centre, of which 5 make 4 <i>sen</i>. Distances are
measured by <i>ri</i>, <i>chô</i>, and <i>ken</i>.
Six feet make one <i>ken</i>, sixty <i>ken</i> one
<i>chô</i>, and thirty-six <i>chô</i> one <i>ri</i>,
or nearly 2½ English miles. When I write of a road I
mean a bridle-path from four to eight feet wide, <i>kuruma</i>
roads being specified as such.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">I. L. B.</p>
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