d pinched tightly, until each one looks like
nothing but a shred of linen or a tiny chip of frayed wood. If you drop
one of them into a bowl of hot water, it will open and unfold like a
flower. They blossom slowly in cold water, but hot water makes them jump
up and open at once.

Ume's blind grandfather and her mother made these wine-flowers for a
living, and she went out daily and sat on the Asakusa street to sell
them.

Sometimes they made "shell-surprises."

Out of a hard paste made from moss they cut the shapes of roses,
camellias, lilies, daisies, etc., of real size, which they painted to a
natural color. Then folding them in a ball, and squeezing them into a
cockle-shell, they were ready for sale. They looked just like common
white shells; but when dropped into hot water they opened at once, and
the ball of gum inside, rising to the surface, blossomed into a flower
of true size and tint.

"But why are they called wine-flowers?"

The reason is this. The Japanese drink their "wine" (sake or rice-beer)
hot, and in tiny cups about the size of a small half orange. When one
friend is about to offer the cup to another, he drops one of these pith
chips on the surface of the wine. It blossoms instantly before their
eyes, and is the "flower of friendship."

[Illustration: A GAME OF SURPRISES.]

The artist Ozawa has sketched the inside of a home in Japan, where the
children are merrily enjoying the game of surprises. A Japanese mother
has bought a few boxes of the pith toys from Ume. They have a lacquered
tub half full of warm water. Every few minutes the fat-cheeked
servant-girl brings in a fresh steaming kettleful to keep it hot. They
all kneel on the matting, and it being summer, they are in bare feet,
which they like. The elder one of the two little girls, named O-Kin
(Little Gold), has a box already half empty.

"Guess what this one is," says she to her little brother Kozo, who sits
in the centre.

"It's a lily, or a pot of flowers--I know it is," cries Kozo: "I know
it, because it's a long one."

O-Kin drops it. It flutters like a feather in the air, then it touches
the water, squirms a moment, jumps about as if alive, unfolds, and
instead of a long-stemmed flower, it is a young lady carrying a lantern,
all dressed for an evening call. "Ha! ha! ha!" laugh they all.

"You didn't guess it.--You try," said O-Kin, to O-Haya (Little Wave),
her sister; "it's a short one."

"I think it's either a drum or a _ta