In Kyoto, The Ancient Capital of Japan

Next to Nikko, one of the most interesting cities in Japan is Kyoto, the old capital under the shoguns, the seat of several fine palaces and many beautiful temples, and the center of large manufacturing works of satsuma and cloissone ware, damascene work and art work on silk and velvet. Kyoto may be reached by a short ride from Kobe, but from Tokio it is an all-day trip of twelve hours by express train. This ride, which would be comfortable in well appointed cars, is made tedious by the Japanese preference for cars with seats arranged along the side, like the new American pay-as-you-enter street cars. For a short ride the side seat may be endured, but for hours of travel (especially when one is a tourist and wishes to see the scenery on both sides of the road) the cars are extremely tiresome.

By selecting the express train and buying first-class tickets it was hoped to avoid any crowd but, unfortunately, the day chosen saw many other tourists on their way across Japan. The result was that the first-class car was packed and many who had paid first-class fares were forced to ride in the second-class cars. In my car one side was occupied almost wholly by Japanese. Two were in American dress, one was an army officer in uniform, another a clerk with many packages, and the remaining two were an old couple, richly dressed. The Japanese, in traveling first-class, generally brings a rug or fur, which he spreads over the seat. On this he sits with his feet drawn up under him in the national style. Smoking is not prohibited even in the first-class cars, so that the American ladies in the cars had to endure the smell of various kinds of Japanese tobacco, in addition to the heat, which was rendered more disagreeable by the frequent closing of the windows as the train dashed through many tunnels. The old couple carried lunch in several hampers and they indulged in a very elaborate luncheon, helped out by tea purchased in little pots from a dealer at a station. The army officer bought one of the small wooden lunch boxes sold along all Japanese railways, which contain boiled rice, fried fish and some boiled sweet potatoes. This, with a pot of tea, made a good lunch. The Japanese in European costume patronized the dining-car, where an excellent lunch was served for one yen, or fifty cents in American money.

The scenery along the line of the railway varied. The road skirts the coast for many miles, then cuts across several mountain ranges to Nagoya, then along the shores of Owari bay (an arm of the ocean), thence across the country to the lower end of Lake Biwa, near which Kyoto is situated. In the old days this journey consumed twelve days, and the road twice every year furnished a picturesque procession of the retinues of great nobles or daimiyos traveling from Kyoto to Tokio to present their respects to the shogun. The road was skirted by great cryptomeria, and avenues of these fine trees may still be seen near Nikko.

Kyoto was a great city in medieval days, when it was the residence of the Mikado. From 793 until 1868, when the court removed to Tokio, Kyoto remained the capital. Its importance, however, began to decline with the founding of Yedo, or Tokio, in 1590, and to-day many miles of its former streets are devoted to the growing of rice. In this way several of the finest temples, which were once in the heart of the old city, are now relegated to the suburbs. Besides the Mikado's palace and Nijo castle, which may be visited only by special permit, Kyoto boasts of an unusual number of richly decorated temples, among which the most noteworthy are the Shinto temple of Inari; the temple of the one thousand images of Kwannon, the Deity of Mercy; the great Buddhist temple of Nishi-Honguanji, celebrated for its art work in paintings and decorated woods; the great bronze Buddha, fifty-eight feet high; the big bell near by, nearly fourteen feet high, and the other in the Cheon-in temple here—these being two of the four largest bells in all Japan. To describe the treasures in art and decoration, in gold and lacquer, in these palaces, would be tiresome. Unless one is a student of Japanese art the visiting of temples soon becomes a great bore, for one temple or one palace is a repetition of others already seen, with merely minor differences in architecture and decoration, which appeal only to the specialist.

Kyoto, however, is of great interest for its many art shops—since applied art, as seen in satsuma and cloissone ware and in damascene, have almost reached the level of pure art. A visit to one of the satsuma factories is an interesting experience, as it shows how little the art of Japan has been influenced by the foreigner. Here one sees the potter at his wheel, precisely as in the days of the Bible. He does not avail himself of electric power but whirls his wheel by hand and foot, exactly as in the time of Christ. Passing from the pottery to the art rooms, one finds a number of Japanese men and girls painting elaborate designs on bowls and vases and other articles. These artists grind and mix their own oil colors, which they proceed to lay on slowly upon the article they are decorating. The patience of these artists is indescribable. Infinite pains is taken with a single flower or tree or figure of man or bird. One vase exhibited here is covered with butterflies which range from natural size down to figures so small that they can be discerned only under a magnifying glass. Yet, this vase, which represents such an enormous outlay of labor and time, is sold at thirty dollars in American money.

At the damascene works both men and women are also employed, although the finest work is done by the men. The art consists in beating into bronze small particles of gold leaf until they have become an actual part of the baser metal. This gold is arranged in a great variety of design and, after being beaten in, the article is subjected to powerful heat, which oxidizes the metal and thus prevents any change due to the weather. At this Kyoto factory were turned out the most artistic jewelry, boxes, cigarette cases and a great variety of small articles, many of which sold at absurdly low prices, considering the amount of labor and time expended on them.

Kyoto will be found one of the best cities in Japan for the purchase of the art work just described, as well as embroidery, silks and other stuffs. In many of these shops the work is done on the premises and hence the prices are cheaper than in any other city except Yokohama. It is worth while to visit the shops that exhibit bronze work, silks, velvets and carvings in ivory and wood, as well as curios of many kinds. Most of these shopkeepers demand more than they expect to receive, but in a few shops the goods are plainly marked and no reduction in price can be secured. At Kyoto the tourist will find many traces of primitive Japanese life, especially in the unfrequented streets and in the suburbs. Here in the bed of the river, a portion of which was being walled up for a canal, were employed a dozen women digging up gravel and carrying it in baskets to carts near by. They had their skirts tied up and they were working in mud and water which reached to their knees. It was not a pleasant spectacle, but it excited no comment in this country, where women labor in the rice fields by the side of men.

A short ride from Kyoto brings the visitor to Nara, the seat of the oldest temples in Japan, and famous for the tame deer in the park. A long avenue of stone lanterns leads to the principal temples, in an ancient cedar grove. The main temple gives an impression of great age by its heavy thatched roof.

Next looms up the gigantic wooden structure, which houses Daibutsa, the great bronze image of Buddha. This statue, which dates back to the eighth century, is fifty-three and one-quarter feet high; the face is sixteen feet long and nine and one-quarter feet wide. The god is in a sitting position, with the legs crossed. The head, which is darker than the remainder of the image, replaced in the sixteenth century the original head destroyed by fire. The expression of this Buddha is not benignant, and the image is impressive only because of its size. It has two images eighteen feet in height on either hand, but these seemed dwarfed by the huge central figure.

The park at Nara is very interesting, because of the tame deer which have no fear of the stranger in European dress, but will eat cakes from his hand. One of the sources of revenue is to sell these cakes to the tourist.

A visit was paid to an old temple at Horyuji, about eight miles from Nara, which is famous as the oldest Buddhist temple in Japan. It contains a valuable collection of ancient Japanese works of art. The rickshaw ride to this place is of great interest, as the road passes through a rich farming country and two small towns which seem to have been little affected by European influence. In the fertile valley below Nara rice is grown on an extensive scale, these paddy fields being veritable swamps which can be crossed only by high paths running through them, at distances of thirty or forty feet. Here also may be seen the curious method of trellising orchards of pear trees with bamboo poles. The trellis supports the upper branches and this prevents them from breaking down under the weight of fruit, while it also makes easy the picking of fruit. Agriculture at its best is seen in this fertile Japanese valley. One peculiarity of this country, as of other parts of rural Japan, is that one sees none of the scattered farmhouses which dot every American farming section. Instead of building on his own land the farmer lives in a village to which he returns at night after his day's work.

Kobe, Osaka, The Inland Sea and Nagasaki

Kobe is regarded as a base for the tourist who wishes to make short excursions to Kyoto, Osaka and other cities. It was established as a foreign settlement in 1868, and has grown so remarkably during the last ten years that now it exceeds in imports and exports any other city in Japan. Kobe is one of the most attractive cities in the empire, being built on a pretty harbor, with the land rising like an amphitheater. Scores of handsome residences are scattered over the foothills near the sea. Those on the lower side of the streets that run parallel to the harbor have gardens walled up on the rear, while the houses on the upper side of the streets have massive retaining walls. These give opportunity for many ornamental gateways.

Kobe has many large government schools, but the institutions which I found of greatest interest were Kobe College for Women, conducted by Miss Searle, and the Glory Kindergarten, under the management of Miss Howe. Kobe College, which was founded over thirty years ago, is maintained by the Women's Board of Missions of Chicago. It has two hundred and twenty-five pupils, of whom all except about fifty are lodged and boarded on the premises. I heard several of the classes reciting in English. The primary class in English read simple sentences from a blackboard and answered questions put by the teacher. A few spoke good English, but the great majority failed to open their mouths, and the result was the indistinct enunciation that is so trying to understand. Another class was reading Hamlet, but the pupils made sad work of Shakespeare's verse. The Japanese reading of English is always monotonous, because their own language admits of no emphasis; so their use of English is no more strange than our attempts at Japanese, in which we employ emphasis that excites the ridicule of the Mikado's subjects.

Not far from this college is the kintergarten, which Miss Howe has carried on for twenty-four years. She takes little tots of three or four years of age and trains them in Froebel's methods. So successful has she been in her work among these children of the best Japanese families of Kobe that she has a large waiting list. She has also trained many Japanese girls in kintergarten work. All the children at this school looked unusually bright, as they are drawn from the educated classes. It sounded very strange to hear American and English lullabies being chanted by these tots in the unfamiliar Japanese words.

Osaka, the chief manufacturing city of Japan, is only about three-quarters of an hour's ride from Kobe. It spreads over nine miles square and lies on both sides of the Yodogawa river. The most interesting thing in Osaka is the castle built by Hideyoshi, the Napoleon of Japan, in 1583. The strong wall was once surrounded by a deep moat and an outer wall, which made it practically impregnable. What will surprise anyone is the massive character of the inner walls which remain. Here are blocks of solid granite, many of them measuring forty feet in length by ten feet in height. It must have required a small army of men to place these stones in position, but so well was this work done (without the aid of any mortar) that the stones have remained in place during all these years. From the summit of the upper wall a superb view may be gained of the surrounding country.

From Kobe the tourist makes the trip through the Inland Sea by steamer. Its length is about two hundred and forty miles and its greatest width is forty miles. The trip through this sea, which in some places narrows to a few hundred feet, is deeply interesting. The hills remind a Californian strongly of the Marin hills opposite San Francisco, but here they are terraced nearly to their summits and are green with rice and other crops. Many of the hills are covered with a growth of small cedar trees, and these trees lend rare beauty to the various points of land that project into the sea. At two places in the sea the steamer seems as though she would surely go on the rocks in the narrow channel, but the pilot swings her almost within her own length and she turns again into a wider arm of the sea. In these narrow channels the tide runs like a mill race, and without a pilot (who knows every current) any vessel would be in extreme danger. The steamer leaves Kobe about ten o'clock at night and reaches Nagasaki, the most western of Japanese cities, about seven o'clock the following morning.

Nagasaki in some ways reminds one of Kobe, but the hills are steeper and the most striking feature of the town is the massive stone walls that support the streets winding around the hills, and the elaborate paving of many of these side-hill streets with great blocks of granite. The rainfall is heavy at Nagasaki, so we find here a good system of gutters to carry off the water. The harbor is pretty and on the opposite shore are large engine works, three large docks and a big ship-building plant, all belonging to the Mitsu Bishi Company. Here some five thousand workmen are constantly employed.

One of the great industries of Nagasaki is the coaling of Japanese and foreign steamships. A very fair kind of steam coal is sold here at three dollars a ton, which is less by one dollar and one-half than a poorer grade of coal can be bought for in Seattle; hence the steamer Minnesota coaled here. The coaling of this huge ship proved to be one of the most picturesque sights of her voyage. Early on the morning of her arrival lighters containing about a railway carload of coal began to arrive. These were arranged in regular rows on both sides of the ship. Then came out in big sampans an army of Japanese numbering two thousand in all. The leaders arranged ladders against the sides of the ship, and up these swarmed this army of workers, three-quarters of whom were young girls between fourteen and eighteen years old. They were dressed in all colors, but most of them wore a native bonnet tied about the ears. They formed in line on the stairs and then the coal was passed along from hand to hand until it reached the bunkers. These baskets held a little over a peck of coal, and the rapidity with which they moved along this living line was startling.

Every few minutes the line was given a breathing space, but the work went on with a deadly regularity that made the observer tired to watch it. Occasionally one of the young girls would flag in her work and, after she dropped a few basketfuls, she would be relieved and put at the lighter work of throwing the empty baskets back into the lighters. Most of these girls, however, remained ten hours at this laborious work, and a few worked through from seven o'clock in the morning until nearly midnight, when the last basket of coal was put on board. At work like this no such force of Europeans would have shown the same self-control and constant courtesy which these Japanese exhibited. Wranglings would have been inevitable, and the strong workers would have shown little regard for their weaker companions.

Another feature of this Japanese work was the elimination of any strain or overexertion. If a girl failed to catch a basket as it whirled along the line she dropped it instantly. Never did I see anyone reach over or strain to do her work.

The rest for lunch occupied only about fifteen minutes, the begrimed workers sitting down on the steps of the ladders and eating their simple food with keen relish. At night when strong electric lights cast their glare over these constantly moving lines of figures the effect was almost grotesque, reminding one of Gustave Doré's terrible pictures of the lost souls in torment, or of the scramble to escape when the deluge came. The skill that comes of long practice marked the movements of all these workers, and it was rare that any basket was dropped by an awkward or tired coal-passer.

In seventeen hours four thousand five hundred tons of coal were loaded on the steamer. About fifteen hundred people were working on the various ladders, while another five hundred were employed in trimming the coal in the hold and in managing the various boats. The result was an exhibit of what can be done by primitive methods when perfect co-operation is secured.

Nagasaki itself has little that will interest the tourist but a ride or walk to Mogi, on an arm of the ocean, five miles away, may be taken with profit. The road passes over a high divide and, as it runs through a farming country, one is able to see here (more perfectly than in any other part of Japan) how carefully every acre of tillable land is cultivated. On both sides of this road from Nagasaki to the fishing village of Mogi were fields enclosed by permanent walls of stone, such as would be built in America only to sustain a house. In many cases the ground protected by this wall was not over half an acre in extent, and in some cases the fields were of smaller size. Tier after tier of these walls extended up the sides of the steep hills. The effect at a little distance was startling, as the whole landscape seemed artificial. The result of this series of walls was to make a succession of little mesas or benches such as may be seen in southern California.

Development of the Japanese Sense of Beauty

After a trip through Japan the question that confronts the observant tourist is: What has preserved the fine artistic sense of the Japanese people of all classes, in the face of the materialist influences that have come into their life with the introduction of Western methods of thought and of business? The most careless traveler has it thrust upon him that here is a people artistic to the tips of their fingers, and with childlike power of idealization, although they have been forced to engage in the fierce warfare of modern business competition. What is it that has kept them unspotted from the world of business? What secret source of spiritual force have they been able to draw upon to keep fresh and dewy this eager, artistic sense that must be developed with so much labor among any Western people?

The answer to these questions is found, by several shrewd observers, in the Japanese devotion to their gardens. Every Japanese, no matter how small and poor his house, has a garden to which he may retire and "invite his soul." These Japanese gardens are unique and are found in no other land. China has the nearest approach to them, but the poor Chinese never dreams of spending time and money in the development of a garden, such as the Japanese in similar circumstances regards as a necessity. And these Japanese gardens are always made to conform to the house and its architecture. The two never fail to fit and harmonize. A poor man may have only a square of ground no larger than a few feet, but he will so arrange it as to give it an appearance of spaciousness, while the more elaborate gardens are laid out so as to give the impression of unlimited extent. The end of the garden appears to melt into the horizon, and the owner has a background that extends for miles into the country. By the artistic use of stones and dwarf plants, a few square feet of ground are made to give the effect of liberal space and, with bridges, moss-covered stones, ponds, gold fish and other features, a perfect illusion of the country may be produced.

Into this garden the master of the house retires after the work of the day. There he takes none of his business or professional cares. He gives himself wholly to the contemplation of Nature. He becomes for the time as a little child, and his soul is pleased with childish things. For him this garden, with its pretty outlook on a larger world, serves as the boundary of the universe. Here he may dream of the legends of the Samurai, before Japan fell under the evil influence of the new God of Gain. Here he may indulge in the day-dreams that have always been a part of the national consciousness. Here, in fine, he may get closer to the real heart of Nature than any Occidental can ever hope to reach.

It is this capacity to get close to Nature that the Japanese possess beyond any other Oriental people—and this capacity is not limited to those of means or leisure or education. The poor man, who has a daily struggle to get enough rice to satisfy his moderate wants, is as open to these influences as the rich man who is not worried by any material wants. There is no distinction of classes in this universal worship of beauty—this passion for all that is lovely in nature. It was not my good fortune to be in Japan at the time of the cherry-blossom festival—but these fêtes merely serve to bring out this national passion for beauty and color, which finds expression not only in the gardens throughout the empire but in painting, drawing and in working on silks and other fabrics. The same instinctive art sense is seen in the work of the cabinet-maker and even in the designs of gateways and the doors of houses. The eye and the hand of the common worker in wood and metal is as sure as the hand of the great artist. Such is the influence of this constant study of beauty in nature and art.

When you watch a busy Japanese artisan you get a good idea of the spirit that animates his work. He regards himself as an artist, and he shows the same sureness of hand and the same sense of form and color as the designer in colors or the painter of portraits or landscapes. All the beautiful gateways or torii, as they are called, are works of art. They have one stereotyped form, but the artists embellish these in many ways and the result is that every entrance to a large estate or a public ground is pleasing to the eye. As these gateways are generally lacquered in black or red or gold, they add much to the beauty and color of each scene. The ornamental lattice over nearly every door also adds enormously to the effectiveness of even a simple interior.

Watch a worker on cloissone enamel and you will be amazed at the rapidity and the accuracy with which he paints designs on this beautiful ware. Without any pattern he proceeds to sketch with his brush an intricate design of flowers, birds or insects, and he develops this with an unerring touch that is little short of marvelous, when one considers that he has never had any regular training in drawing but has grown up in the shop and has gained all his skill from watching and imitating the work of his master on the bench at his side. One day in Kyoto I watched a mere boy gradually develop a beautiful design of several hundred butterflies gradually becoming smaller and smaller until they vanished at the top of the vase. What he proposed to make of this was shown in a finished design that was exquisite in the gradation of form and color. The same skill of hand and eye was seen in the shops of Kyoto where damascene ware is made. Gold and silver is hammered into steel and other metals, so that the intricate designs actually seem to become a part of the metal. In carving in wood the Japanese excel, and in such places as Nikko and Nara the tourist may pick up the most elaborate carvings at absurdly low prices.

Conclusions on Japanese Life and Character

In summing up one's observations of Japanese life and character, after a brief trip across the empire, it is necessary to exercise much care and not to take the accidental for the ordinary incidents of life. Generalizations from such observations on a hurried journey are especially deadly. To guard against such error I talked with many people, and the conclusions given here are drawn from the radically different views of missionaries, merchants, steamship agents, bankers and others. Generous allowance must be made for the prejudices of each class, but even then the forming of any conclusions is difficult. This is due largely to the fact that the Japanese a half-century ago were mediæval in life and thought, and that the remarkable advances which they have made in material and intellectual affairs have been crowded into a little more than the life of two generations.

The most common charge made against the Japanese as a race is that their standard of commercial morality is low as compared with that of the Chinese. The favorite instance, which is generally cited by those who do not like the Japanese, is that all the big banks in Japan employ Chinese shroffs or cashiers, who handle all the money, as Japanese cashiers cannot be trusted. This ancient fiction should have died a natural death, but it seems as though it bears a charmed life, although its untruth has been repeatedly exposed by the best authorities on Japan.

The big foreign banks in all the large Japanese cities do employ Chinese shroffs, because these men are most expert in handling foreign money and because they usually have a large acquaintance all along the Chinese coast among the clients of the banks. The large Japanese banks, on the other hand, employ Japanese in all positions of trust and authority, as do all the smaller banks throughout the empire. Many of the cashiers of these smaller banks understand English, particularly those that have dealings with foreigners. At a native bank in Kobe, which was Cook's correspondent in that city, I cashed several money orders, and the work was done as speedily as it would have been done in any American bank. The fittings of the bank were very cheap; the office force was small, but the cashier spoke excellent English and he transacted business accurately and speedily.

In making any generalizations on the lack of rigid commercial honesty among Japanese merchants it may be well for me to quote the opinion of an eminent American educator who has spent over forty years in Japan. He said, in discussing this subject: "We must always consider the training of the Japanese before their country was thrown open to foreign trade. For years the nation had been ruled by men of the Samurai or military class, with a rigid code of honor, but with a great contempt for trade and tradesmen. Naturally business fell into the hands of the lower classes who did not share the keen sense of honor so general among their rulers. Hence, there grew up lax ideas of commercial morality, which were fostered by the carelessness in money matters among the nobility and aristocracy. Much of the prevalent Japanese inability to refrain from overcharging, or delivering an inferior article to that shown to the customer, dates back to these days of feudal life. The years of contact with the foreigners have been too few to change the habits of centuries. Another thing which must always be considered is the relation of master and vassal under feudal life. That relation led to peculiar customs. Thus, if an artisan engaged to build a house for his overlord he would give a general estimate, but if the cost exceeded the sum he named, he expected his master to make up the deficit. This custom has been carried over into the new régime, so that the Japanese merchant or mechanic of to-day, although he may make a formal contract, does not expect to be bound by it, or to lose money should the price of raw material advance, or should he find that any building operations have cost more than his original estimate. In such case the man who orders manufactured goods or signs a contract for any building operations seems to recognize that equity requires him to pay more than was stipulated in the bond. When Japanese deal with Japanese this custom is generally observed. It is only the foreigner who expects the Japanese to fulfill his contract to the letter, and it is the attempt to enforce such contracts which gives the foreign merchant his poor opinion of Japanese commercial honesty. In time, when the Japanese have learned that they must abide by written contracts, these complaints will be heard no longer. The present slipshod methods are due to faulty business customs, the outgrowth of the old Samurai contempt for trade in any form."

In dealing with small Japanese merchants in various cities, it was my experience that they are as honest as similar dealers in other countries. Usually they demanded about one-half more than they expected to receive. Then they made reductions and finally a basis of value was agreed upon. This chaffering seems to be a part of their system; but the merchants and manufacturers who are brought most often into contact with Europeans are coming to have a fixed price for all their goods, on which they will give from ten to twenty per cent. reduction, according to the amount of purchases. One manufacturer in Kyoto who sold his own goods would make no reduction, except in the case of some samples that he was eager to sell. His goods were all plainly marked and he calmly allowed tourists to leave his store rather than make any cut in his prices. The pains and care which the Japanese dealer will take to please his customer is something which might be imitated with profit by foreign dealers.

A question that is very frequently put is, "What has been the influence of Christianity upon Japanese life and thought?" This is extremely difficult to answer, because even those who are engaged in missionary work are not always in accord in their views. One missionary of thirty years' experience said: "The most noteworthy feature of religious work in Japan is the number of prominent Japanese who have become converts to Christianity. The new Premier, who is very familiar with life in the United States, may be cited as one of these converts. Such a man in his position of power will be able to do much to help the missionaries. The usual charge that Japanese embrace Christianity in order to learn English without expense falls to the ground before actual personal experience. The converts always seemed to me to be as sincere as converts in China or Corea, but it must be admitted that the strong materialist bent of modern Japanese education and thought is making it more difficult to appeal to the present generation."

An educator who has had much experience with Japanese said: "It looks to me as though Japan would soon reach a grave crisis in national life. Hitherto Buddhism and Shintoism have been the two forces that have preserved the religious faith of the people and kept their patriotism at white heat. Now the influences in the public schools are all antagonistic to any religious belief. The young men and women are growing up (both in the public schools and the government colleges) to have a contempt for all the old religious beliefs. They cannot accept the Shinto creed that the Emperor is the son of God and should be worshiped as a deity by all loyal Japanese. They cannot accept the doctrines of Buddha, as they see the New Japan giving the lie to these doctrines every day in its home and international dealings. Nothing is left but atheism, and the experience of the world proves that there is nothing more dangerous to a nation than the loss of its religious faith. The women of Japan are slower to accept these new materialist views than the men, but the general breaking down of the old faith is something which no foreign resident of Japan can fail to see. On the other side patriotism is kept alive by the pilgrimages of school children to the national shrines, but one is confronted with the questions? Will the boys and girls of a few years hence regard these shrines with any devotion when they know that Buddhism and Shintoism are founded on a faith that science declares has no foundation? Will they offer up money and homage to wooden images which their cultivated reason tells them are no more worthy of worship than the telegraph poles along the lines of the railway?'"

The Japanese way of doing things is the exact reverse of the American way generally, but if one studies the methods of this Oriental race it will be found that their way is frequently most effective. Thus, in addressing letters they always put the city first, then the street address and finally the number, while they never fail to put the writer's name and address on the reverse of the envelope, which saves the postoffice employés much trouble and practically eliminates the dead-letter office.

The Japanese sampan, as well as other boats, is never painted, but it is always scrubbed clean. The sampan has a sharp bow and a wide, square stern, and navigators say it will live in a sea which would swamp the ordinary Whitehall boat of our water-front. The Japanese oar is long and looks unwieldy, being spliced together in the middle. It is balanced on a short wooden peg on the gunwale and the oarsman works it like a sweep, standing up and bending over it at each stroke. The result is a sculling motion, which carries the boat forward very rapidly. In no Japanese harbor do the big steamships come up to the wharf. They drop anchor in the harbor, and they are always surrounded by small sampans, the owners of which are eager to take passengers ashore for about twenty-five cents each. All cargo is taken aboard by lighters or unloaded in the same way. These lighters hold as much as a railroad freight car.

The fishing boats of Japan add much to the picturesqueness of all the harbors, as they have sails arranged in narrow strips laced to bamboo poles, and they may be drawn up and lowered like the curtains in an American shop window. Whether square or triangular, these sails have a graceful appearance and they are handled far more easily than ours.

The Japanese carpenter, who draws his plane as well as his saw toward himself, appears to work in an awkward and ungainly way, but he does as fine work as the American cabinet-maker. The beauty of the interior woodwork of even the houses of the poorer classes is a constant marvel to the tourist. Nothing is ever painted about the Japanese house, so the fineness of the grain of the wood is revealed as well as the exquisite polish. A specialty of the Japanese carpenter is lattice-work for the windows and grill-work for doors. These add very much to the beauty of unpretentious houses.

In conclusion it may be said that Japan offers the lover of the beautiful an unlimited opportunity to gratify his æsthetic senses. In city or country he cannot fail to find on every hand artistic things that appeal powerfully to his sense of beauty. Whether in an ancient temple or a new home for a poor village artisan, he will see the results of the same instinctive sense of the beautiful and the harmonious. The lines are always lines of grace, and the colors are always those which blend and gratify the eye.

Will the Japanese Retain Their Good Traits?

Any thoughtful visitor to Japan must be impressed with the problems that confront Japan to-day, owing to the influence of foreign thought and customs. This influence is the more to be dreaded because the Japanese are so impressionable and so prone to accept anything which they are convinced is superior to their own. They have very little of the Chinese passion for what has been made sacred by long usage. They have high regard for their ancestors, but very little reverence for their customs and opinions. This lack of veneration is shown in striking fashion by those Japanese students who come to this country to gain an education. These young men are as eager as the ancient Athenians for any new thing, and when they return to their old homes each is a center of Occidental influence. This is frequently not for the best interests of their countrymen, who have not had their own opportunities of observation and comparison.

The qualities in which the Japanese excel are the very qualities in which so many Americans are deficient. Personal courage and loyalty are the traits which Professor Scherer, a distinguished expert, regards as the fundamental traits of the Japanese character. That these qualities have not been weakened materially was shown in the recent war with Russia. In that tremendous struggle was demonstrated the power of a small nation, in which everyone—men, women and children—were united in a passionate devotion to their country. No similar spectacle was ever shown in modern history. The men who went cheerfully to certain death before Port Arthur revealed no higher loyalty than the wives at home who committed suicide that their husbands might not be called upon to choose between personal devotion to their family and absolute loyalty to the nation. The foreign correspondents, who were on two-hundred-and-three-metre hill before Port Arthur, have told of the Japanese soldiers in the ranks who tied ropes to their feet in order that their comrades might pull their bodies back into the trenches. All those who were drafted to make the assaults on the Russian works in that awful series of encounters (which make the charge of the Light Brigade at Balaklava seem cheap and theatrical) knew they were going to certain death. Yet these foreign observers have left on record that the only sentiment among those who remained in the trenches was envy that they had not been so fortunate as to be selected to show this supreme loyalty to their country. General Nogi, who recently committed suicide with his wife on the day of the funeral of the late Emperor, had two sons dash to this certain death on the bloodstained hill before Port Arthur. As commander, he could have assigned them to less dangerous positions, but it probably never entered his head to shield his own flesh and blood. And the same loyalty that is shown to country is also proved in the relation of servant to master. The story of the Forty-seven Ronins is too well known to need repetition, but the loyalty of these retainers (who slew the man that caused their lord's death, although they knew that this deed called for their immediate end by their own hands) impresses one with new force when he stands before the tombs of these men in the Japanese capital and sees the profound reverence in which they are still held by the people of Japan.

What puzzles the foreign observer is: Will this passionate loyalty of servant to master survive the spectacle of the ingratitude and self-interest which the Japanese see in the relation of master and servant in most Christian countries? The whole tendency of life in other countries than his own is against this loyalty, which has been bred in his very marrow. How long, without the mainstay of religion, will the Japanese cling to this outworn but beautiful relic of his old life? And it must be confessed that religion is rapidly losing its hold on the men of Japan. Those who have been abroad are apt to return home freethinkers, because the spectacle of the practical working of Christianity is not conducive to faith among so shrewd a people as the Japanese. Even the example of the foreigners in Japan is an influence that the missionaries regard as prejudicial to Christianity.

Another trait of the Japanese which will not be improved by contact with foreigners, and especially with Americans, is thoroughness. This trait is seen on every hand in Japan. Nothing is built in a slovenly way, whether for private use or for the government. The artisan never scamps his work. He seems to have retained the old mechanic's pride in doing everything well which he sets his hand to do. This is seen in the carving of many works of art, as well as in the building of the ornamental gateways throughout the empire, that stand as monuments to the æsthetic sense of the people. Yet the whole influence of foreign teaching and example is against this thoroughness that is ingrained in the Japanese character. The young people cannot fail to see that it does not pay their elders to expend so much time and effort to gain perfection, when their foreign rivals secure apparently equal if not superior results by quick and careless work. It is upon these Japanese children that the future of the empire depends. They are sure to be infected by these object lessons in the gospel of selfish and careless work, which the labor union leaders in our country have preached until it has been accepted by the great mass of mechanics.

Another racial quality of the Japanese, which is likely to suffer from contact with foreigners, is his politeness. This is innate and not acquired; it does not owe any of its force to selfish considerations. The traveler in Japan is amazed to see this politeness among all classes, just as he sees the artistic impulse flowering among the children of rough toilers in the fields. And again the question arises: Will the Japanese retain this attractive trait when they come into more intimate contact with the foreigner, who believes in courtesy mainly as a business asset rather than as a social virtue?

So, in summing up one's impressions of Japan, there comes this inevitable doubt of the permanence of the fine qualities which make the Japanese nation to-day so distinct from any other. The Japanese may differ from all other races in their power of resisting the corrupting influences of foreign association, but it is to be feared that the visitor to the Mikado's land fifty years from now may not only find no Mikado, but none of the peculiarly gracious qualities in the Japanese people which to-day set them apart from all other nations.

MANILA,
TRANSFORMED BY THE
AMERICANS

First Impressions of Manila and Its Picturesque People

The bay of Manila is so extensive that the steamer appears to be entering a great inland sea. The shores are low-lying and it takes about an hour before the steamer nears the city, so that one can make out the landmarks. To the right, as one approaches the city, is Cavite, which Dewey took on that historic May day in 1898. The spires of many churches are the most conspicuous landmarks in Manila, but as the distance lessens a huge mass of concrete, the new Manila hotel, looms up near the docks. The bay is full of ships and alongside the docks are a number of passenger and freight steamers.

Just as we are able to make out these things, our ears catch the strains of a fine band of music and we see two launches rapidly nearing the ship. In one is a portion of the splendid Constabulary Band, the finest in the Orient. In the other launch was the special committee of the Manila Merchants' Association. The band played several stirring airs, everybody cheered and waved handkerchiefs and for a few minutes it looked as though an impromptu Fourth of July celebration had begun. It is difficult to describe an American's emotions when he sees the Stars and Stripes for the first time in five weeks. The most phlegmatic man on the ship danced a war dance, women wept, and when the reception committee boarded the ship and met the passengers in the dining saloon there was great enthusiasm. Plans were arranged for crowding into the two days' stay all the sightseeing and entertainment possible and these plans were carried out, giving a fine proof of Manila hospitality.

Manila differs from most of the Oriental cities in the fact that American enterprise has constructed great docks and dredged out the harbor so that the largest steamers may anchor alongside the docks. In Yokohama, Kobe, Hongkong and other ports ships anchor in the bay and passengers and freight must be transferred to the shore by launches and lighters. Reinforced concrete is now the favorite building material of the new Manila. Not only are the piles and docks made of this material, but all the new warehouses and business buildings as well as most of the American and foreign residences are of concrete. It is substantial, clean, cool and enduring, meeting every requirement of this tropical climate. The white ant, which is so destructive to the ordinary wooden pile, does not attack it.

The Pasig river divides Manila into two sections. On the south side of the old walled city are the large districts of Malate, Ermito and Paco. On the north side is the principal retail business street, the Escolta and the other business thoroughfares lined with small shops, and six large native districts. The Escolta is only four blocks long, very narrow, with sidewalks barely three feet wide; yet here is done most of the foreign retail trade. In a short time a new Escolta will be built in the filled district, as it would cost too much to widen the old street. As a car line runs through the Escolta, there is a bad congestion of traffic at all times except in the early morning hours. The Bridge of Spain is one of the impressive sights of Manila. With its massive arches of gray stone, it looks as though it would be able to endure for many more centuries. One of the oldest structures in the city, it was built originally on pontoons, and it was provided with the present arches in 1630. Only one earthquake, that of 1863, damaged it. Then two of the middle arches gave way, and these were not restored for twelve years. The roadway is wide, but it is crowded all day with as picturesque a procession as may be seen in any part of the world. The carromata, a light, two-wheeled cart, with hooded cover, pulled by a native pony, is the favorite conveyance of the foreigners and the better class of the Filipinos. The driver sits in front, while two may ride very comfortably on the back seat. It is a great improvement on the Japanese jinrikisha because one may compare impressions with a companion. The country cart is built something like the carromata and will accommodate four people. Hundreds of these carts come into Manila every day with small stocks of vegetables and fruit for sale at the markets. A few victorias may be seen on the bridge, but what causes most of the congestion is the carabao cart, hauling the heavy freight. The carabao (pronounced carabough, with the accent on the last syllable), is the water buffalo of the Philippines, a slow, ungainly beast of burden that proves patient and tractable so long as he can enjoy a daily swim. If cut off from water the beast becomes irritable, soon gets "loco" and is then dangerous, as it will attack men or animals and gore them with its sharp horns. The carabao has little hair and its nose bears a strong resemblance to that of the hippopotamus. Its harness consists of a neckyoke of wood fastened to the thills of the two-wheeled cart. On this cart is frequently piled two tons, which the carabao pulls easily.

Another bridge which has historic interest for the American is the San Juan bridge. It is reached by the Santa Mesa car line. Here at either end were encamped the American and Filipino armed forces, and the insurrection was started by a shot at night from the native trenches. The bridge was the scene of fierce fighting, which proved disastrous to the Filipinos.

Aside from the bridges and the life along the Pasig river, the most interesting part of Manila lies within the old walled city. This section is known locally as "IntraMuros." It is still surrounded by the massive stone wall, which was begun in 1591 but not actually completed until 1872. The wall was built to protect the city from free-booters, as Manila, like old Panama, offered a tempting prize to pirates. Into the wall was built old Fort Santiago, which still stands. The wall varies in thickness from three to forty feet, and in it were built many chambers used as places of confinement and torture. Until six years ago a wide moat surrounded the wall, but the stagnant water bred disease and the moat was filled with the silt dredged up from the bay. Fort Santiago forms the northwest corner of the wall. Its predecessor was a palisade of bags, built in 1571, behind which the Spaniards defended themselves against the warlike native chiefs. In 1590 the stone fort was begun. Within it was the court of the military government. Seven gates were used as entrances to the walled city in old Spanish days, the most picturesque being the Real gate, bearing the date of 1780, and the Santa Lucia gate, with the inscription of 1781. These gates were closed every night, and some of the massive machinery used for this purpose may be seen lying near by—a reminder of those good old days when the belated traveler camped outside.

In the old walled city are some of the famous churches of Manila. The oldest is San Augustin, first dedicated in 1571. The present structure was built two years later, the first having been completely destroyed by fire. The enormously thick walls were laid so well that they have withstood the severe earthquakes which proved so destructive to many other churches. In this church are buried Legaspi and Salcedo, the explorers, who spread Spanish dominion over the Philippines.

The Church of St. Ignatius is famous for the beautifully carved woodwork of the pulpit and the interior decorations; that of Santo Domingo is celebrated for its finely carved doors. The greatest shrine in the Phillippines is the Cathedral, which fronts on Plaza McKinley. This is the fifth building erected on the same site, fire having destroyed the other four. The architecture is Byzantine, and the interior gives a wonderful impression of grace and spaciousness. Some of the old doors and iron grill-work of the ancient cathedrals have been retained.

American Work in the Philippine Islands

It will surprise any American visitor to the Philippine Islands to find how much has been accomplished since 1898 to make life better worth living for the Filipino as well as for the European or the American. Civil government through the Philippine Commission has been in active operation for ten years. During this decade what Americans have achieved in solving difficult problems of colonial government is matter for national pride. The American method in the Philippines looks to giving the native the largest measure of self-government of which he is capable. It has not satisfied the Filipino, because he imagines that he is all ready for self-government, but it has done much to lift him out of the dead level of peonage in which the Spaniard kept him and to open the doors of opportunity to young Filipinos with ability and energy. I talked with many men in various professions and in many kinds of business and all agreed that the American system worked wonders in advancing the natives of real ability.

Rev. Dr. George W. Wright of Manila, who has charge of a large Presbyterian seminary for training young Filipinos for the ministry, and who has had much experience in teaching, said: "In the old days only the sons of the illustrados, or prominent men of the noble class, had any chance to secure an education and this education was given in the Catholic private schools. With the advent of the Americans any boy possessing the faculty of learning quickly may get a good education, provided he will work for it. I know of one case of a boy who did not even know who his parents were. He gained a living by blacking shoes and selling papers. He came to me for aid in entering a night school. He learned more rapidly than anyone I ever knew. Soon he came to me and wanted a job that would occupy him half a day so that he could go to school the other half of the day. I got him the job and in a few months he was not only perfecting himself in English, but reading law. Nothing can keep this boy down; in a few years he will be a leader among his people. Under the old Spanish system he never would have been permitted to rise from the low caste in which fortune first placed him."

More than a thousand American teachers are scattered over the Philippine Islands, and for ten years these men and women have been training the young of both sexes. Some have proved incompetent, a few have set a very bad example, but the great majority have done work of which any nation might be proud. They have not only been teachers of the young, but they have been counselors and friends of the parents of their pupils.

The work done in a material way in the Philippines is even more remarkable. Of the first importance is the offer of a homestead to every citizen from the public lands. So much was paid for the friar lands that these are far beyond the reach of anyone of ordinary means, but the government has large reserves of public land, which only need cultivation to make them valuable. Sanitary conditions have been enormously improved both in Manila and throughout the islands. In the old days Manila was notorious for many deaths from cholera, bubonic plague and smallpox. No sanitary regulations were enforced and the absence of any provisions for sewage led to fearful pestilences. Now not only has Manila an admirable sewerage system, but the people have been taught to observe sanitary regulations, with the result that in the suburbs of such a city as Manila the homes of common people reveal much better conditions than the homes of similar classes in Japan. The sewage of Manila is pumped three times into large sumps before it is finally dumped into the bay a mile from the city.

The island military police, known as the Constabulary Guard, has done more to improve conditions throughout the islands than any other agency. The higher officers are drawn from the United States regular army, but the captains and lieutenants are from civil life, and they are mainly made up of young college graduates. These men get their positions through the civil service and, though some fail to make good, the great majority succeed. Their positions demand unusual ability, for they not only have charge of companies of native police that resemble the Mexican rurales or the Canadian mounted police, but they serve as counselor and friend to all the Filipinos in their district. In this way their influence is frequently greater than that of the school teachers.

All this work and much more has been accomplished by the insular government without calling upon the United States for any material help. It does not seem to be generally known that the Philippine Islands are now self-supporting, and that the only expense entailed on the general government is a slight increase for maintaining regiments assigned to the island service and the cost of Corregidor fortifications and other harbor defenses. This has been accomplished without excessive taxation. Personal property is exempt, while the rate on real estate in Manila is only one and one-half per cent. on the assessed valuation, and only seven-eights of one per cent. in the provinces. The fiscal system has been put on a gold basis, thus removing the old fluctuating silver currency which was a great hardship to trade.

Scenes in the City of Manila and Suburbs

Every visitor to Manila in the old days exhausted his vocabulary in praise of the Luneta, the old Spanish city's pleasure ground, which overlooked the bay and Corregidor Island. It was an oval drive, with a bandstand at each end, inclosing a pretty grass plot. Here, as evening came on, all Manila congregated to hear the band play and to meet friends. The Manilan does not walk, so the broad drive was filled with several rows of carriages passing slowly around the oval. To-day the Luneta remains as it was in the old Spanish days, but its chief charm, the seaward view, is gone. This is due to the filling in of the harbor front, which has left the Luneta a quarter of a mile from the water-front. However, a new Luneta has been made below the old one, and the broad avenues opened up near by give far more space for carriages than before. Every evening except Monday the Constabulary Band plays on the Luneta, and the scene is almost as brilliant as in the old days, as the American Government officials make it a point to turn out in uniform. Nothing can be imagined more perfect than the evenings in Manila after the heat of the day. The air is deliciously soft and a gentle breeze from the ocean tempers the heat.

The best way to see the native life of Manila is to take a street-car ride through the Tondo and Caloocan districts, or a launch ride up the Pasig river. On the cars one passes through the heart of the business district, the great Tondo market, filled with supplies from the surrounding country as well as many small articles of native or foreign manufacture. This car line also passes the Maypajo, the largest cockpit in the world, where at regular intervals the best fighting cocks are pitted against each other and the betting is as spirited as on American race tracks in the old days. On the return trip by these cars one passes by the San Juan bridge, which marked the opening of the insurrection; the old Malacanan Palace, now the residence of Governor-General Forbes, and the Paco Cemetery, where several thousand bodies are buried in the great circular wall which surrounds the church. These niches in the wall are rented for a certain yearly sum, and in the old Spanish days, when this rental was not promptly paid by relatives, the corpse was removed and thrown with others into a great pit. Recently this ghastly practice has been frowned on by the authorities.

The average Manila resident does not pay more than fifty dollars in our money for his nipa house. The framework is of bamboo, bound together by rattan; the roof timbers are of bamboo, while the sides of the house and the thatch are made from the nipa tree. The sides look like mats. The windows are of translucent shell, while the door is of nipa or wood. These houses are usually about fifteen feet square, with one large room, and are raised about six feet from the ground. Under the house is kept the live stock. When the family has a horse or cow or carabao the house is ten feet from the ground, and these animals are stabled underneath. In nearly every house or yard may be found a game cock tied by the leg to prevent him from roaming and fighting.

In most of the houses that the cars passed in the big native quarter of Tondo, furniture was scanty. Usually the family has a large dresser, which is ornamented with cheap pictures, and the walls are frequently covered with prints in colors. There is no furniture, as the Filipino's favorite position is to squat on his haunches. In many of the poorest houses, however, were gramophones, which are paid for in monthly installments of a dollar or two. The Filipinos are very fond of music, and the cheap gramophones appeal to them strongly. Nearly every Filipino plays some instrument by ear, and many boys from the country are expert players on the guitar or mandolin. On large plantations the hands are fond of forming bands and orchestras, and often their playing would do credit to professional musicians. The Constabulary Band, recognized as the finest in the Orient, has been drilled by an American negro named Loring.

In the Santa Mesa district are the houses of wealthy Filipinos. These are usually of two stories, with the upper story projecting far over the lower, and with many ornamental dormer windows, with casement sashes of small pieces of translucent shell. In Manila the window is provided to keep out the midday heat and glare of the sun. At other times the windows are slid into the walls, and thus nearly the whole side of the house is open to the cool night air. Many of these houses are finished in the finest hardwoods, and not a few have polished mahogany floors. Bamboo and rattan furniture may be seen in some of these houses, while in others are dressers and wardrobes in the rich native woods. These houses are embowered in trees, among which the magnolia, acacia and palm are the favorites, with banana and pomelo trees heavy with fruit.