October 12.—At work at fossils in the morning—my lecture at 2. I find as I have to speak so slowly to be clear, that there isn’t much time in an hour. There is a sort of demonstration with microscopics afterwards which helps.
It is now very cold at night and in the early morning, but still warm enough to wear cotton frocks in the middle of the day. The clear moon is wonderful.
October 13.—At work all day on fossils, cycled back in time to dress for a dance, to which I cycled, as it was a lovely night. It was a very jolly dance and not the least pleasure of the evening was cycling back with Mr. G—— instead of jolting and freezing and catching cold in a slow kuruma. Out of every 24 hours the cycle saves me one to two or more in this slow Tokio, so that I shouldn’t grumble at it.
October 16.—At work all the morning, lunch with the Faculty at the Goten, and then at work all the afternoon. The fossils proved so enticing that though I had worn a traily frock all day intending to go to the Belgian Legation garden party, when it came to the point the fossils won, and I didn’t go. In the evening I cycled down to dinner at our Embassy.
When once one makes up one’s mind to a cycle, one can even go out to dinner on it. I wondered, however, what the footman thought when he had to lift it into the Embassy hall in case of thieves getting it in the garden (I was told he has a brother who is an attaché at the French Embassy! The Japanese are very quaint that way—one Count or Baron or other is driven up to the door every day by his own brother as a coachman). Thanks to the unmoved countenance of flunkeydom, added to the immobility of the Japanese, I could sail into the dining-room, past the same man, trailing a pink silk skirt with apparent dignity.
October 21.—Fossils all day. I cycled round on my way home and paid my dance calls. The streets, particularly in the neighbourhood of the Ginza and the station, are now very gay and crowded for the American Fleet, of which a really enormous fuss is being made. There are arches, and bands, and processions, and all manner of things all over the place. Bands of school children go about with flags, and—for the first time since I have been in Japan—I was insulted on my cycle by grown men, not once, but six times in the course of half an hour! Not badly, but in a coarse rude tone I was called out to, and one madman waved a lantern suddenly in my face on the cycle and nearly upset me. I suppose they are over-excited, for everywhere the echo rings with protestations of undying devotion to the Americans, for one of whom I would naturally be taken.
October 22.—A horribly wet morning, but by midday a lovely sun came out, and it felt almost like midsummer. When I got to the Embassy garden party (it was given to welcome Admiral Sperry) I found it had been postponed in the morning, but as the weather was now so lovely, it was put on again. That is to say, it was half on and would be repeated to-morrow. So we had one of the bands, and quite a lot of the American officers and other people turned up. The chief sight was seeing Admiral Sperry and Admiral Togo sitting side by side looking on at a kind of sword-dance. The dance itself was very dull, as all Japanese posture dances are unless you understand them intimately, but there were some sparks when the swords clashed, and one of the swords broke by accident, which was entertaining. It was rather wonderful the way the dancer to whom this happened kept his countenance, and put it in the sheath at the appointed time as calmly as if it hadn’t been a mere stump.
The American officers were a sad disillusionment. One fancies good class Americans must be all like the soulful adoring youths at the feet of the Gibson girls, but they aren’t—at least those officers aren’t. In fact, though they would be mad to hear it, they were mostly not easy to distinguish from Japanese when both stood with their caps down over their eyes, as they always wear them, except that the Americans looked the less smart owing to the untidy appearance of their small squash caps. So many of them were short and insignificant. Admiral Sperry, though not imposing or impressive in any way, seemed pleasant and keen, and was tall.
October 23.—Lunch at the Goten, with quite a lot of foreign visitors,—two Russians, a geologist and a botanist, and two Germans interested in law or some such thing. I hear we are to have Sven Hedin, which will be really interesting. I hope I shall see him.