ed until New-Year's Eve, and when at last the New Year broke in
upon them, it was something appalling. The air was full of false notes,
vocal and otherwise, and I need scarcely say that at the "Dai butzu" also
grand festivities went on for the greater part of the night.

I was lying flat in bed on New-Year's Day, thinking of the foolishness
of humanity, when I heard a tap at the door. I looked at the watch; it
was 7.20 A.M.

"Come in," said I, thinking that the thoughtful maid was carrying my
sponge-bath, but no. In came a procession of Japs, ludicrously attired in
foreign clothes with antediluvian frock-coats and pre-historic European
hats, bowing and sipping their breath in sign of great respect. At their
head was the fat proprietor of the hotel, and each of them carried with
him in his hand a packet of visiting cards, which they severally
deposited on my bed, as I, more than ten times astounded, stood resting
on my elbows gazing at them.

"So-and-so, brick-layer and roof-maker. So-and-so, hotel proprietor and
shipping agent; so-and-so, Japanese carpenter; so-and-so, mat-maker; X,
merchant; Z, boatman," &c. &c, were how the cards read as I inspected
them one by one. I need hardly say, therefore, that the year 1891 was
begun with an extra big D, which came straight from my heart, as I
uncoiled myself out of my bed at that early hour of the morning to
entertain these professional gentlemen to drinks and cigarettes. And yet
that was nothing as compared with what came after. They had scarcely
gone, and I was just breaking the ice in order to get my cold bath, when
another lot, a hundredfold more noisy than the first, entered my room
unannounced and depositing another lot of "pasteboards," as Yankees term
them, in my frozen hands, went on wishing me all sorts of happiness for
the New Year, though I for my part wished them all to a place that was
certainly not heaven. In despair I dressed myself, and going out
aimlessly, strolled in any direction in order to keep out of reach of
the New-Year's callers. But the hours were long, and about eleven I went
to pay a visit to Mr. T., the American merchant who had kindly asked me
once or twice to dinner. If I considered myself entitled to complain of
the calling nuisance, he must have had good reason to swear at it. Being
the richest man in the place as well as the principal merchant, his place
was simply besieged by visitors. Many were so drunk that they actually
had to be carrie