ll, and the streets
were full of 'rickshaws. From the sea-shore to the shady green park,
from the park to the dim distance, the land pullulated with people.

Here you saw how Western civilisation had eaten into them. Every tenth
man was attired in Europe clothes from hat to boots. It is a queer race.
It can parody every type of humanity to be met in a large English town.
Eat and prosperous merchant with mutton-chop whiskers; mild-eyed,
long-haired professor of science, his clothes baggy about him; schoolboy
in Eton jacket, broadcloth trousers; young clerk, member of the Clapham
Athletic Club in tennis flannels; artisans in sorely worn tweeds;
top-hatted lawyer with clean-shaven upper lip and black leather bag;
sailor out of work; and counter-jumper; all these and many, many more
you shall find in the streets of Tokio in half an hour's walk. But when
you come to speak to the imitation, behold it can only talk Japanese.
You touch it, and it is not what you thought. I fluctuated down the
streets addressing myself to the most English-looking folk I saw. They
were polite with a graciousness that in no way accorded with their
raiment, but they knew not a word of my tongue. One small boy in the
uniform of the Naval College said suddenly: "I spik Inglees," and
collapsed. The rest of the people in our clothes poured their own
vernacular upon my head. Yet the shop-signs were English, the tramway
under my feet was English gauge, the commodities sold were English, and
the notices on the streets were in English. It was like walking in a
dream. I reflected. Far away from Tokio and off the line of rail I had
met men like these men in the streets. Perfectly dressed Englishmen to
the outer eye, but dumb. The country must be full of their likes.

"Good gracious! Here is Japan going to run its own civilisation without
learning a language in which you can say Damn satisfactorily. I must
inquire into this."

Chance had brought me opposite the office of a newspaper, and I ran in
demanding an editor. He came--the Editor of the _Tokio Public Opinion_,
a young man in a black frock-coat. There are not many editors in other
parts of the world who would offer you tea and a cigarette ere beginning
a conversation. My friend had but little English. His paper, though the
name was printed in English, was Japanese. But he knew his business.
Almost before I had explained my errand, which was the pursuit of
miscellaneous information, he began: "You are