arther end
of Nagasaki, and there deposited us at the foot of some gigantic steps
that run straight up the mountain.

These are the granite steps leading to the great temple of Osueva, wide
enough to give access to a whole regiment; they are as grand and imposing
as any work of Babylon or Nineveh, and in complete contrast with all the
finical surroundings.

We climb up and up--Chrysantheme listlessly, affecting fatigue, under her
paper parasol painted with pink butterflies on a black ground. As we
ascended, we passed under enormous monastic porticoes, also in granite of
rude and primitive style. In truth, these steps and these temple
porticoes are the only imposing works that this people has created, and
they astonish, for they do not seem Japanese.

We climb still higher. At this sultry hour of the day, from top to bottom
of the enormous gray steps, only we three are to be seen; on all that
granite there are but the pink butterflies on Chrysantheme's parasol to
give a cheerful and brilliant touch.

We passed through the first temple yard, in which are two white china
turrets, bronze lanterns, and the statue of a large horse in jade. Then,
without pausing at the sanctuary, we turned to the left, and entered a
shady garden, which formed a terrace halfway up the hill, at the
extremity of which was situated the Donko-Tchaya--in English, the
Teahouse of the Toads.

This was the place where Chrysantheme had wished to take us. We sat down
at a table, under a black linen tent decorated with large white letters
(of funereal aspect), and two laughing 'mousmes' hastened to wait upon
us.

The word 'mousme' means a young girl, or very young woman. It is one of
the prettiest words in the Nipponese language; it seems almost as if
there were a little pout in the very sound--a pretty, taking little pout,
such as they put on, and also as if a little pert physiognomy were
described by it. I shall often make use of it, knowing none other in our
own language that conveys the same meaning.

Some Japanese Watteau must have mapped out this Donko-Tchaya, for it has
rather an affected air of rurality, though very pretty. It is well
shaded, under a shelter of large trees with dense foliage, and a
miniature lake close by, the chosen residence of a few toads, has given
it its attractive denomination. Lucky toads, who crawl and croak on the
finest of moss, in the midst of tiny artificial islets decked with
gardenias in full bloom. From tim