<h2><SPAN name="page159"></SPAN>LETTER XXII.</h2>
<p class="gutsumm">A Silk Factory—Employment for
Women—A Police Escort—The Japanese Police Force.</p>
<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Kubota</span>,
<i>July</i> 23.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">My</span> next visit was to a factory of
handloom silk-weavers, where 180 hands, half of them women, are
employed. These new industrial openings for respectable
employment for women and girls are very important, and tend in
the direction of a much-needed social reform. The striped
silk fabrics produced are entirely for home consumption.</p>
<p>Afterwards I went into the principal street, and, after a long
search through the shops, bought some condensed milk with the
“Eagle” brand and the label all right, but, on
opening it, found it to contain small pellets of a brownish,
dried curd, with an unpleasant taste! As I was sitting in
the shop, half stifled by the crowd, the people suddenly fell
back to a respectful distance, leaving me breathing space, and a
message came from the chief of police to say that he was very
sorry for the crowding, and had ordered two policemen to attend
upon me for the remainder of my visit. The black and yellow
uniforms were most truly welcome, and since then I have escaped
all annoyance. On my return I found the card of the chief
of police, who had left a message with the house-master
apologising for the crowd by saying that foreigners very rarely
visited Kubota, and he thought that the people had never seen a
foreign woman.</p>
<p>I went afterwards to the central police station to inquire
about an inland route to Aomori, and received much courtesy, but
no information. The police everywhere are very gentle to
the people,—a few quiet words or a wave of the hand are
sufficient, when they do not resist them. They belong to
the <SPAN name="page160"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
160</span><i>samurai</i> class, and, doubtless, their naturally
superior position weighs with the <i>heimin</i>. Their
faces and a certain <i>hauteur</i> of manner show the indelible
class distinction. The entire police force of Japan numbers
23,300 educated men in the prime of life, and if 30 per cent of
them do wear spectacles, it does not detract from their
usefulness. 5600 of them are stationed at Yedo, as from
thence they can be easily sent wherever they are wanted, 1004 at
Kiyôto, and 815 at Osaka, and the remaining 10,000 are
spread over the country. The police force costs something
over £400,000 annually, and certainly is very efficient in
preserving good order. The pay of ordinary constables
ranges from 6 to 10 <i>yen</i> a month. An enormous
quantity of superfluous writing is done by all officialdom in
Japan, and one usually sees policemen writing. What comes
of it I don’t know. They are mostly intelligent and
gentlemanly-looking young men, and foreigners in the interior are
really much indebted to them. If I am at any time in
difficulties I apply to them, and, though they are disposed to be
somewhat <i>de haut en bas</i>, they are sure to help one, except
about routes, of which they always profess ignorance.</p>
<p>On the whole, I like Kubota better than any other Japanese
town, perhaps because it is so completely Japanese and has no air
of having seen better days. I no longer care to meet
Europeans—indeed I should go far out of my way to avoid
them. I have become quite used to Japanese life, and think
that I learn more about it in travelling in this solitary way
than I should otherwise.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">I. L. B.</p>
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