The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1888-02-04

succession OF stores and shops. The
shoemakers here are carpenters, and
the blacksmiths and tinmakers are all
the same, and sit wheE they are ham
mering the iron or shaping the tin.
You wonder when and where the buy
ers come, for but few seem to be SELL
ing any thing.
Now we have como to something
that reminds us of western civiliza-
tion,-the horse railroad. The horses
look rather seedy, however, and move
as though they were in funeral pro-
cession. But not only is the tramway
here but the railroad, the telegraph, tel
ephone and the electric light. If the
light of day does continue to rise in the
East, certainly the light of civilization
to this land comes from the West.
AS we reach the silk stores we find
larger establishments &nd silks beauti-
full and cheap. All! We're it not for the
duties at American ports, would we
not lay in a stock for Che dear ones so
far away?
How polite the Japanese are. Just
see them as two gentlemen meet; how
they bow and bow, but they do not
kiss. The most perfect order prevails
all round. Frequently as the little
urchins crowd about you to see the
strangers, you can but wish that some
body would wipe some of their noses.
But we cannot think it strange that
colds should prevail here in this No
vember weather, wheA it is as chilly as
in Philadelphia or St sLouis, and the
feet are nearly all baresand the legs too
on the part of many. Some have on
pants OF skirts, with light garment
over their shoulders However the
better class of gentlenen are dressed
10 the costume of tue West. Some
have donned all but lie leather shoes,
still sticking to the cl IS.
In this quarter of the city we enter a
bookstore, whose shelves point to Lon
don, Boston and Chicago.
The more we see the more we won
der how these people all live; whence
comes their food and how is it pre-
pared? Well, just now as we peep into
a dining room and discover a family on
the floor, sitting on their feet and legs
| for chairs, with little cups of tea and
rice close at hand, and perhaps bit of
fish,-as we observe more minutely-
and see them picking f their rice with
chop-sticks and conyeyaas the same to
their mouths, we oaagl ued If Goes not
cost much to feed "a Uofdfhon people
here. They are Obliged to lay out
nothing for knives and forks, plates,
chairs and stoves, for their cooking is
all done over few Goals.
A young man and woman could SET
up housekeeping here on small stock
if they should choose;-but many OF
these people do not live much after all
But let us seek other quarters, anC
so soon we are at the famous Nihor
Bashi, the bridge that has become
known the world over. 1t is said that
from it all distances in the country art
reckoned. 1t is true, it does not resem
BILE the noted bridge of old Rome
stretching across the yellow Tiber, fOl
it is not of stone, but of wood, in {
state of decay. 1t is ugly in aspect i
is monopolized by beggars, dirty priests
venders of all kinds of trash; but from
its humpback we catch splendid view
of burning Full. 1t looks away off il
the sea like huge cone of snow, but i
is towering mass of lava.
From this point we hasten to thu
museum that is now in fair way tt
become equal to some in the far West
which have been greatly ext0lled. Tht
geological department is quite unique
The grounds about it are being mad,
very attractive. The public park closl
at hand is a striking resort for the Jap
anese of leisure. It's grand trees anC
broken surface, its images Of Buddh;
aud strange deities, render it a place o
resort for the curiosity seeker and tht
scholar who would gather up all posi-
BILE facts.
From the narrow streets as you come
into the broadcast of the city, you art
likely to break out, beautiful" For
since the fire of 1872, street one mile
long and three hundred feet wide, viii
broad sidewalks, has been laid out. Il
is lined with fine looking shops ant
stores and planted out with shade trees
and flower beds. Everything look;
clean and inviting No ugly image OF
Buddha, nor of any other god, deface;
the beauties of nature.
Toxic, Japan, Nog., 1857,
PESSIMISM.