Birdseye Views of Far Lands

by James T. Nichols

The men in the small boats were told emphatically that only the highest official could come on board. One of the men represented that he was second in rank and when he was allowed to come on board Commodore Perry refused to see him. After a parley this Japanese officer was made to understand that the expedition bore a letter from the President of the United States to the Emperor of Japan and that it could be delivered only to the officer of the highest rank. When the Japanese officer produced the notifications warning all ships against entering the port, the lieutenant refused to receive them.

Returning to the shore the officer came back to the ship in an hour or two saying that his superior would not receive the letter addressed to the Emperor; that he doubted that the Emperor would receive the letter at all. He was instantly informed that if the superior officer did not come for the letter at once the ships would proceed up the Bay of Yeddo and deliver the letter without him. Of course this ultimatum created great excitement and the officer finally asked a stay in the proceedings until the next day.

During the night signal fires blazed from the mountain tops and bells sounded the hours. In the next few days the famous letter, which was incased in a golden box of a thousand dollars value, was delivered. Nothing very definite was accomplished, however, and the fleet came home. The next year Commodore Perry returned with a larger fleet, another letter, and with presents of various kinds. These consisted of cloth, agricultural implements, firearms and a small locomotive with cars and a mile of circular track for the miniature train, together with a telegraph line to go around it.

The interest and curiosity caused by this miniature railway was wonderful. People walked hundreds of miles to see it. When some of the dignitaries were told that in the United States of America there were many large trains in which hundreds of passengers were carried they could hardly believe it. One of these officials said that if big trains could carry passengers little ones ought to be able to do so. It was then arranged for him to take a ride. With his flowing robe he was assisted to mount one of these little cars like as if it were a donkey. The whistle was blown, the steam turned on and away he went around the circle and it created as much excitement as a balloon once did at a circus in this country.

Finally, it was suggested that a treaty be made between the United States and Japan. On board the flagship of Commodore Perry was a minister of the gospel who was consulted and after much discussion a clause was inserted giving America the right to erect or establish places of worship in Japan and a promise that Japan would abolish the practice of trampling on the face of Christ and the cross.

At first our missionaries were restricted to certain localities and they had a time of it. Less than twenty-five years ago this treaty was revised and until this was done no Christian missionary could leave these restricted areas without permission from the Japanese government. This treaty also gave Japan the right to send their missionaries to the United States and thus we have a half hundred Buddhist temples on the Pacific coast at the present time.

On landing at Yokohama, one of the first places I went to visit was the great bronze idol of Kamakura, which is but eighteen miles from Yokohama. It is about fifty feet high, and it is called the "Great Buddha" or "Diabutsa." It is a thousand years old and a horrible looking affair. I went up into the hollow image which is ninety-seven feet in diameter. I wanted to scratch the eyes out, for they are said to be made of solid gold. Years ago there was a temple over this image, so it is said, but a great tidal wave swept the building away. Now they are collecting money from tourists to erect another temple, so they say. They tackle every American for a subscription and strangely enough they get a lot of money out of them.

Speaking of heathen temples brings to mind a large one that I visited in Tokyo. It is dedicated to a fox. The people used to believe, some of them do yet, that when one dies his spirit enters the form of some animal. A man is afraid to throw a rock at a dog for fear he will hit his old grandfather—he doesn't know but that his grandfather's spirit entered that particular dog. So they dedicate their temples to these lower animals and often take better care of animals than poor people.