“How big is this place, anyhow?” Red demanded at length.
“They say it is a good bit bigger than Philadelphia,” said David. “And Philly is some town, you know.”
It was strange indeed to see on all sides such perfect order and co-operation in a land so crowded that it was impossible to spare room for the domestic animals, the horses and cows so common to the rest of the world.
Their guide dwelt upon the thousands of students, men and women, who had gone abroad to be educated, and to absorb new and advanced ideas, until Japan in her stupendous mental growth had supplied her people with universities and technical schools of their own. He showed them silkworms on their trays in warm rooms, endlessly eating the mulberry leaves heaped about them. They saw skeins of queer raw silk, and were given a strand for a souvenir.
Then they went down to the wharves; and saw the agile little fishermen on their slow-moving boats.
“Those boats look nice and peaceful,” said Red, staring at a dark, sullen ship.
“Their dreadnaughts, over at Yokohama, are not so peaceful. They have to have ’em for protection,” said David. “All countries have to have protective navies.”
“They sure looked as though they could protect, all right.”
“We will try to go to Yokohama,” said the guide, “but not today. Not plenty enough time.”
Driving a little way beyond the city, they saw tiny farms, perhaps two and a half acres in extent, all under the most intensive cultivation. On the way back they entered the old part of the city, where they saw temples lovely as dreams. They went through small shops, where men were decorating exquisite pieces of porcelain, painting on silk, or carving precious stones, ivory, and teak.