est Virginia. I did the same
thing as these Japanese boys were doing. I, too, arose before daylight,
climbed out of bed, and went whistling through the dark streets to the
station where the early morning trains dumped off the papers from the
city. I, too, along with several other American boys of a winter
morning, breathed clouds of vapor into the air, stamped my feet to keep
them warm, and whipped my hands against my sides. I, too, unwrapped the
big bundles of papers, and did it in the same way in which these
Japanese boys did, by smashing the tightly bound wrappers on the floor
until they burst. I, too, counted, folded, put in inserts, arranged my
paper-route and darted out into the frosty air with the snow crunching
under my feet. How universal some things are. The only difference was
that these boys were dressed in a sort of buccaneer uniform. They had on
high leather boots, and belts around their coats that made them look as
if they had stepped out of a Richard Harding Davis novel. But otherwise
they went through the same processes as an American boy in a small town.

When the vanguard of villagers had come to inspect us, they at first
tried to talk Russian to us. They had never seen any other kind of
foreigners. They had never seen Americans in this far-off island.

When daylight came, we started out on a long tramp to the Ainu villages.
They were a mile or two away on the ocean. These people always build
near the sea if they can. Fishing is one of their main sources of food.

We spent the day in their huts. They live like animals. A big, square
hut covered with rice straw and thatch, with a fence of the same kind of
straw running around the house, forms the residence. The only fire is in
the middle of the only room, and this consists of a pile of wood burning
on a flat stone or piece of metal in the center. There is no chimney in
the roof, and not even an opening such as the American Indians had in
the tops of their tepees. I do not know how they live. The smoke finds
its way gradually through cracks in the walls and roofs. One can hardly
find a single Ainu whose eyes are not ruined. The smoke has done this
damage.

The only opening in their houses besides the door is one north window,
and it is never closed. In fact, there is no window. It is only an
opening.

"Why is that? I'd think they would freeze on a day like this," I said to
the guide.

"They keep it that way all winter, and it gets a good deal belo