I saw many Americans and Europeans in Shanghai. In fact, the city is filled with blocks of great buildings where business is carried on solely by European merchants. Outside the European section lies many a square mile of two-story shanties that crowd one another in an effort to stand upright. The maze of narrow foot-paths winding among these buildings are aglow with the brilliant signboards of gay Chinese shops, and swarm with sour-faced yellow men who scowl fiercely at the white foot traveler, or mock his movements and make faces at him. Cackling peddlers zigzag through the crowd; wealthy Chinamen in gay robes and carefully oiled queues pick their way along the narrow meandering lanes. Great, muscular runners, carrying on one shoulder a Chinese lady who cannot walk, jog in and out among the shoppers.
After spending three days in Shanghai I awoke one morning to find it raining dismally. To spend a day indoors was too much for me, and I began to think of continuing my journey. So I packed my belongings hurriedly, and an hour later was slipping down the plank on board a Japanese steamer. Among several hundred third-class passengers I was the only European; but I was treated kindly by my fellow-travelers. Our sleeping quarters consisted of two shelves sloping toward the wall and running along half the length of the ship. In my ignorance, I neglected to apply for a place on this shelf until every foot of it had been claimed. But I lost nothing thereby; for no sooner was it noised about among the Japanese that an American was aboard without a place to sleep than a dozen crowded round to offer me their places. I joined a party of four students returning from Pekin, and, by packing ourselves together like spoons, we found room without robbing any other of his rest.
On the second morning out, the rolling green hills of Japan rose slowly above the sun-flecked sea. My companions cried out joyfully when they caught sight of their native land, and tried to make me believe that it was the most beautiful spot on the globe. We soon steamed into the harbor of Nagasaki. From the water’s edge rose a brown-roofed town that covered low green mountains like a wrinkled brown carpet, and faded away into the blue wreaths of hillside forests.
The port was busy and noisy. House-boats, in which stood Japanese policemen in snow-white uniforms, scurried toward us. Close to our vessel two dull gray battle-ships scowled out across the harbor. Doctors, custom officers, and armed policemen crowded on board. By blazing noonday I had stepped ashore.
CHAPTER XXVII
WANDERING IN JAPAN
“Set me down at the Sailors’ Home,” I ordered, stepping into the first ’rickshaw to reach me.
“No good,” answered the runner, dropping the shafts. “Sailor Home be close.”
My ’rickshaw man whose picture I took from my seat in the ’rickshaw while seeing the sights of Tokio.
However, I found a hotel beside a canal down near the harbor. The proprietor, awakened from a doze, gurgled a welcome. He was an American who had lived for some years in Nagasaki. The real manager of the hotel was his Japanese wife, a lively woman who seemed to have a better head for business than her husband. They had two interesting children, a boy and a girl of twelve and ten. No American children could have been more quick to see and act, or more whole-heartedly busy at their work and play; no Japanese more polite of behavior. Already the father asked his son’s advice in business matters of importance; and the mother depended upon her daughter to look after the flower garden and the wardrobe.