I tired of riding at four and dropped off at Numadzu, a village of fishermen where the inhabitants to this day, I fear, remember me as the most unobliging of mortals. My host spoke some English. Taking advantage of his linguistic accomplishment, I requested him to prepare a bath. A servant placed and filled a tub in the center of the inn courtyard. I had begun to disrobe when a panel was pushed aside and into the patio stalked a dozen men and women, the landlord at their head.
“Here!” I protested; “I thought this was a bath room?”
“Sure! Bath room, a’ right,” returned my host. “Go ’head, make bath.”
“Are you crazy?” I demanded. “Drive those women out of here until I have finished bathing!”
The castle of Nagoya, in which many Russian prisoners were kept
Laying out fish to dry along the river in Tokio. Japan lives principally on fish and rice
“Why for?” inquired the Jap, while the company squatted along the wall.
I explained my objections and pushed them out one by one. The proprietor was the last to go.