in a large square, enclosed
with a low bank of earth and a ditch. Crowds of curious civilians are
watching the efforts of raw cavalry recruits to ride stout little horses,
that buck, kick, bite, and paw the air. Every time a soldier gets thrown
the on-lookers chuckle with delight. Both men and horses are undersized,
but look stocky and serviceable withal. The uniform of the cavalry is
blue, with yellow trimmings. The artillery looks trim and efficient, and
the horses, although rather small, are powerful and wiry, just the horses
one would select for the rough work of a campaign.

North of Hiroshima the country assumes a hilly character, the road
following up one mountain-stream and down another. In this mountainous
region one meets mail-carriers, the counterpart almost of the
fleet-footed postmen of Bengal. The Japanese postman improves upon nature
by the addition of a waist-cloth and a scant shirt of white and blue
cotton check; his letter-pouch is fastened to a bamboo-staff; as he
bounds along with springy stride he warns people to clear the way by
shouting in a musical voice, "Honk, honk." This cry resembles in a very
striking degree the utterances of an old veteran brant, or wild-goose,
when speeding northward in the spring to escape a warm wave from the
south.

Among these mountains one is filled with amazement at the tremendous work
the industrious Japs have done to secure a few acres of cultivable land.
Dikes have been thrown up to narrow the channels of the streams, so that
the remaining width of the bed may be converted into fields and gardens.
The streams have been literally turned out of their beds for the sake of
a few acres of alluvial soil. Among the mountains, chiefly between the
mountains and the shore, are level areas of a few square miles,
supporting a population that seems largely out of proportion to the size
of the land. Many of these sea-shore people however, get their livelihood
from the blue waters of the Inland Sea; fish sharing the honors with rice
in being the staple food of provincial Japan.

The weather changes to quite a disagreeable degree of cold by the time I
reach the end of to-day's ride. This introduces me promptly into the
mysteries of how the Japanese manage to keep themselves warm in their
flimsy houses of wooden ribs and semi-transparent paper in cold weather.
An opening in the floor accommodates a brazier of coals; over this stands
an open wood-work frame; quilts covered over t