are
blessed with souls above the average. Now the first demand of the
artistic temperament is mundane uncertainty. The second is--"

"Sleep," said the Professor, and left the room.

No. XVII

OF THE NATURE OF THE TOKAIDO AND JAPANESE RAILWAY CONSTRUCTION. ONE
TRAVELLER EXPLAINS THE LIFE OF THE SAHIB-LOG, AND ANOTHER THE ORIGIN OF
DICE. OF THE BABIES IN THE BATH TUB AND THE MAN IN D. T.

"When I went to Hell I spoke to the man on the road."

--_Old Saw._

You know the story of the miner who borrowed a dictionary and returned
it with the remark that the stories, though interesting in the main,
were too various. I have the same complaint to make against Japanese
scenery--twelve hours of it by train from Nagoya to Yokohama. About
seven hundred years ago the king of those days built a sea-road which he
called the Tokaido (or else all the sea-coast was called the Tokaido,
but it's of no importance), which road endures to the present. Later on,
when the English engineer appeared, he followed the Grand Trunk more or
less closely, and the result has been a railway that any nation might
take off their hat to. The last section of the through line from Kioto
to Yokohama was only opened five days before the Professor and I
honoured it with an unofficial inspection.

The accommodation of all kinds is arranged for the benefit of the
Japanese; and this is distressing to the foreigner, who expects in a
carriage remotely resembling E. I. R. rolling-stock the conveniences of
that pea-green and very dusty old line. But it suits the Japanese
admirably: they hop out at every other station--_pro re nata_--and
occasionally get left behind. Two days ago they managed to kill a
Government official of high standing between a footboard and a platform,
and to-day the Japanese papers are seriously discussing the advantages
of lavatories. Far be it from me to interfere with the arrangements of
an artistic empire; but for a twelve hours' run there might at least be
arrangements.

We had left the close-packed cultivation at the foot of the hills and
were running along the shores of a great lake, all steel-blue from one
end to the other, except where it was dotted with little islands. Then
the lake turned into an arm of the sea, and we ran across it on a
cut-stone causeway, and the profligacy of the pines ceased, as the trees
had to come down from clothing dank hills, and fight with bowed head,
outstretched arms, and firmly pla