JAPANESE SERVANTS.
The only other time that our domestic staff appeared in force was on Christmas Day, when my father summoned everyone to his study, beginning with Yami and his family down to the rickshaw and water coolies, their wives and children. There seemed an endless number of little bowing figures as they appeared in a long line, all dressed in their best, and apparently much impressed with the importance of the occasion.
Politeness in Japan is proverbial, and extends to the lowest classes of the community. However much Japanese servants are scolded and abused, they will listen with apparent submission and repentance, seemingly never taking offence, although they really hide a good deal of feeling under their humble demeanour. I have known a servant, after being severely reprimanded by his master, attempt to commit suicide. On the other hand, however, when once roused to hatred, a Japanese is very vindictive and will stop short of nothing for revenge. They have, as a nation, wonderful control over their feelings, and on no account would they like to appear anything but happy and contented in public.
I remember one day asking Yami about the health of his old father, who had not been well. With the broadest of grins and every sign of pleasure, Yami told me that only that morning his honourable parent had ‘condescended to die’ and was about to be buried that afternoon. He then apologized profusely for mentioning such a trivial matter. I believe, as a matter of fact, the death of the old man was a great grief to his son, as there is much filial affection existing between parents and children in Japan.
Yami was very devoted to me, and when travelling always considered his duties embraced those of maid. On arriving at our destination, his first thought was to unpack my clothes and put out on my bed whatever he considered suitable for me to wear--a somewhat strange selection occasionally. Wherever we were staying, he always brought me my morning cup of tea, saying as he entered the room: ‘Good-morning, everybody.’ Poor Yami died of pneumonia just before we left Japan. I went to see him a few hours before his death. On the floor by his side were two little wooden frames with photographs of my father and myself. He was too weak to speak, but pointed to the photos, and then put his hand to his heart to show us his affection, poor fellow!
Japanese servants, if left to themselves, are lazy little beings. Their chief joy in life seems to be their bath. How often have I had to wait to go for my drive until the betto returned from the bathhouse! Their horror of a drop of rain seems strange, considering this; but not for one minute will a coolie continue work in the garden if there is the slightest indication of wet weather.
THAT DELIGHTFUL HOTEL IN THE HILLS.
They are ready to sleep on all possible occasions. I remember we were staying in a little Japanese house near Lake Chiunsenji, and having started out for the day, we left orders that certain things were to be done in the way of cleaning, during our absence. We had not left a quarter of an hour, when we discovered our lunch-basket had been forgotten, and my father hastened back to fetch it. On entering the little hall, he heard a noise proceeding from a large cupboard in which was a shelf kept for boots and fishing-tackle. Looking in, he discovered our four servants--cook, maid, house-boy and water-coolie--all stretched out on the shelf among the contents of the cupboard, evidently just preparing for a pleasant siesta. They scurried away like rabbits on seeing my father, and seemed overwhelmed with shame when we spoke to them seriously the next morning on the sin of laziness.