m this whole
business of coming into the world and getting a living for a few years is
nothing more nor less than a huge joke.

The happiest state of affairs seems to exist among all classes and
conditions of people in Japan. One passes school-houses and sees the
classes out on the well-kept grounds, going through various exercises,
such as one would never expect to see in the East. To-day I pause a while
before the public-school in Nakabairu, watching the interesting exercises
going on. Under the supervision of teachers in black frock-coats and
Derby hats, a class of girls are ranged in two rows, throwing and
catching pillows, altogether back and forth at the word of command.
Classes of boys are manipulating wooden dumb-bells and exercising their
muscles by various systematic exercises. The youngsters are enjoying it
hugely, and the whole affair looks so thoroughly suggestive of the best
elements of Occidental school-life that it is difficult to believe the
evidence of one's own eyes. I suspect the Japanese children are about the
only children in the wide, wide world who really enjoy studying their
lessons and going to school. One of the teachers comes to the gate and
greets me with a polite bow. I address him in English, but he doesn't
know a word.

The wooden houses of Japan seem frail and temporary, but they look new
and bright mostly in the country. The government buildings,
police-offices, post-offices, schools, etc., all look new and bright and
artistic, as though but lately finished. The roads, too, are sometimes
laid out straight and trim, suggestive of an attempt to imitate the roads
of France; then, again, one traverses for miles the counterpart of the
green lanes of Merrie England--narrow, winding, and romantic. The Japanese
roads are mainly about ten or twelve feet wide, giving ample room for two
jinrikishas to pass, these being the only wheeled vehicles on the roads.
Rustic bridges frequently span lovely little babbling brooks, and
waterfalls abound this afternoon as I approach, at early eve, Futshishi.
Rain necessitates a lay-over of a day at Futshishi, but there is nothing
unendurable about it; the proprietor of the house is a blind man, who
plays the samosan, and makes the girls sing and dance the geisha for my
edification. Beef and chicken are both forthcoming at Futshishi, and the
fish, as in almost all Japanese towns, are very excellent.

The weather opens clear and frosty after the rain, and the r