mised by the coolies, who are about as honest as
the Jehus of our own streets. You may employ them for as many hours as
you please, but to avoid fractions it is usual to engage them by the
day.

Until Japan was opened to foreigners, Tokio, or Yedo, was a mystery to
the civilized world. It was supposed to be fabulously large, and was
said to contain more inhabitants than any other metropolis in the world;
some accounts putting it down to as many as four millions. As regards
its extent, the city certainly does cover an immense space. Its
population, though, is but half that of London. Its large area is due,
perhaps, more to the manner in which it is laid out, than to anything
else--which is in the form of concentric circles, the mikado's palace,
or castle, occupying the centre. Around this dismal, feudal looking,
royal abode, the various embassies are erected; buildings which present
a far finer--because more modern and European--appearance than does the
imperial residence. Circling the whole is a large deep moat, the waters
of which are thickly studded with beautiful water lilies, and spanned by
several bridges. Then come the dingy and now disused houses and streets
of those powerful men of a by-gone age, the daimios. The whole aspect of
this question may be summed up in the word _desolation_. This, too, is
surrounded by a canal, or moat. Beyond this, again comes the city
proper, with its busy, bustling population.

We are entirely at the mercy of our "ricksha" men, and have not the
remotest idea of where they are driving us; but assuming they know more
about the city than we, this does not exercise us much. They rattle us
along over unevenly paved streets, and whiz us around corners with the
rapidity of thought; an uncomfortable sensation in the region of the
dorsal vertebrae, resulting from the unusual bumping process, and a fear
lest, haply, we may be flying out of our carriage at a tangent into
somebody's shop front, a pleasing reflection should we take a header
amongst china.

Our coolies had been directed to a quarter of the city called Shiba, and
here at length we find ourselves, and are shortly set down before one of
the grandest buddhist temples in Japan. How peacefully the great
building reposes in its dark casket of solemn fir trees! To reach the
main entrance, we traverse a broad pathway lined with praying lanterns
on either hand. These lanterns are stone pedestals, surmounted by a
hollow stone ball with a