A ride along the shore of the Mississippi Bay, and through the country where rice and millet grow abundantly, in a jinrikisha with a good natured coolie is a delight. The Bungalow of the native all exposed to view is a sample of neatness, while the children, most gentle with each other, play in numbers around the home.
On this drive and but a short distance from Yokohama is the English concession, homes hidden almost from view by high walls and dense foliage. In that land of sunshine, with the cool breeze from the sea, the constant influx of European and American travelers, keeping one in touch with the world and with the simplicity of the surroundings, one can imagine a tranquilizing life and a happy coterie.
The streets of Yokohama are narrow, the houses of one, sometimes two stories, all on line with the sidewalk and with apparently no privacy. The gutters are flushed with water, which seems to be used for all purposes, even to the bathing of children. The absence of horses gives ample room for the masses of men, women and children who throng the streets. No haste is manifested, save when a line of jinrikishas of heavily freighted coolies appear, and then with perfect good nature the right of way is given. No menace, no insults are heard. The perennial smile of women and the submission of the men is enough to conquer all antagonism to foreigners, if any exists. Nevertheless, a guide is indispensable to protect against intrusive curiosity, for wherever you stop, there the gaping crowd surrounds you.
The shopping fever seems to manifest itself almost immediately on arrival at Yokohama; in fact, I heard of no epidemic so fatal to visitors. Your guide, who has an eye to the commission he will receive on all your purchases, gives you his advice as to where you shall buy—to his best advantage. As truthfulness is not a Japanese virtue, it is well to consult your fellow traveler and to use your own judgment as to quality. Each city of Japan seems to have its specialty; for instance: We found the handsomest kimonas, the finest cloisonais in Yokohama: the best carving in ivory in Tokio.
As for a gentleman's outfit it would be advisable to go to Yokohama with an empty trunk, for good materials and perfect fit are guaranteed for marvelously low prices. There your duck suits, Pongees and silk underwear for the tropics are laid in with great satisfaction. The adaptation in imitation is most striking. A waist of a dress given the tailor will be so closely copied in fit and style and delivered in so brief a space of time that it makes you fairly sigh when you think of the waste of time and mistakes that our own modistes often subject us to, but there is no originality displayed by the Japanese.
The native woman is always clothed; the unmarried, known by the style of hair dressing, are neat and gayly attired in their kimonas and bright sashes, are attractive, but the absolute negligence of the mothers is revolting. The hair if not in strings, is most loosely bound up; no more pomade and bows; their teeth blackened, and their bosoms so exposed that their elongated condition becomes revolting. We were told that supply of the human dairy never ceases while the demand exists. No sooner does one child let go, than another takes hold—hence the accessibility.
To visit the temples is of daily occurrence. There, hundreds of natives are huddled together, prostrating themselves before the tinselled altars, leaving behind them in the space they have occupied a coin, of but little value, it may be, but something to denote their willingness to support their religion. These coins are gathered by the priests, and a theft is unknown.
Strangers are admitted without hesitancy to the rooms where cloisonai and bronze are manufactured, the close quarters, the simplicity of utensils, the perfection of workmanship, the untiring patience is to the nervous American the wonder of the age.
At night the streets of the city are thronged. Along and outside the curbstone are peddlers with their wares spread upon the ground with a single lamp light, around which gather the customers. The jugglers seated behind open lattice work perform their feats to admiring groups, while theatrical performances all in full blast, shut up from view from the street with but a slight screen, seem well patronized.