d for the
entertainment; each one bears his share of the cost. It was a rainy
evening, rickshaws were in order. About thirty drew up before the
Nagasaki Hotel. It was a sight! the funny little carriages, man before
to pull, man behind to push, gaily colored lantern fore and aft and
amused Americans in the middle, laughing, singing, and enjoying the
fun, a strange contrast to the stolid native.

The long line of carriages wound in and out like a snake with shining
scales. The night was so dark that little was to be seen except the
firefly lights and the bare tawny legs of the rickshaw men.

It has been said that the Japanese are the soul of music. I am sure
that no ears are cultivated to endure it. As we entered the rooms
we were obliged to remove our shoes and put on sandals. Instead of
sitting down on chairs we took any position we could on the floor mats
that were placed at our disposal. At the first sound from the throat
of a famous singer in a staccato "E-E-E-E," we all sprang to our feet
thinking she was possibly going into some sort of a fit. With a twang
on the strings of the flattened out little instrument, we subsided,
concluding that the concert had begun. Then when the others joined
in, the mingled sounds were not unlike the wail of cats on the back
fence. The girls themselves looked pretty, in kneeling posture, lips
painted bright red, hair prettily braided and adorned with artificial
flowers or bits of jewelry. If they had been quiet they would have
looked like beautiful Japanese dolls seated on the floor. After several
"catterwaulings" by the choir, came the dances. It was all a series
of physical culture movements; the music was rendered in most perfect
rhythm by two of the girls, it was the poetry of motion. They would
take pieces of silk and make little bouquets, whirlwinds, and divers
things; the most beautiful of all was a cascade of water. It was hard
for us to believe it was not actually a waterfall. It was made of
unfolding yards of white silk of the most sheer and gauzy kind. From a
thin package six inches square, there shimmered out a thousand yards--a
veritable cascade of gleaming water. We were treated to refreshments,
impossible cakes and tea. We were thankful that we sat near an open
window that we might throw the cake over our shoulder, trusting some
forlorn little Japanese who liked it might get it.

The tea is finely powdered dust; the tea maker is supposed to measure
exactly the capaci