An hour's ride from Yokohama, Tokyo, the capital of Japan, is reached. The water here is shallow, Yokohama being practically the port for the official city of Japan. Tokyo has more open space than other native cities, and street cars, rickshas and crowds of people about the railway station gave ample evidence of having reached a large center. One of the main streets of the capital city is wide, with sidewalks, and good business buildings rise at frequent sections along the thoroughfare. Goods were displayed in the windows, and clerks were on their feet; whereas in other cities Japanese merchants, like the Indians, were seen sitting down on an elevation or low counter, with feet partly under and the sandals or clogs on the floor. Away from the business street, however, are the one-story frame dwellings, with latticed-like doors, having white paper in the window squares to admit light. Outside the home are several pairs of clogs, as, again like the East Indian, Japanese enter in stockinged feet. The same sliding doors were here, too, and the streets were as narrow and as free of pavement as those of Kyoto and other cities. The charcoal buckets were surrounded by members of the family, each one seeming to take turn in fanning the embers to a stronger heat.
A visitor would find difficulty in getting about Tokyo, as the street signs, where they appear, are printed in Japanese, and the same applies to those on street cars. Large, modern street cars were in use, and the travel was so heavy that two conductors, as in Osaka, were kept busy collecting fares. The fare was the same as that in other cities—4½ cents with a return coupon, or 2¼ cents a single ride. Traffic keeps up from morning until late at night. A stranger would do well to have written down in the Japanese language on a piece of paper where he wishes to leave the car, as no English is spoken by conductors, and the pronunciation of the names of places is not at all as the spelling of the word would suggest in English. As many people held on to the straps as were seated.
Japanese believe in the merit of water, as was evidenced in the sprinkling of streets, these being partly muddy all the time, which suggests that high-bridge clogs are generally worn. Very few of the streets were paved with asphalt or blocks, the paving peculiar to Japan—loose gravel—being in evidence on most of them. Many canals and a few rivers run through the city, and bridges are frequently met with; some of these are of iron.
One misses restaurants, bakeries, and similar stores when traveling through the Far East. Not enough foreigners live in these parts of the world to create a demand for such eating places. Rice is the principal food, and one never sees a loaf of bread or a cake displayed in store windows. Eating is confined to the home or hotel.
Tokyo covers an area of 100 square miles, and good parks are included within its boundaries. The grounds about the Mikado's palace and the government buildings, the latter of European design, are in keeping with a national capital. A high wall surrounds the grounds in which the palace is situated, and a moat, containing clear water, separates the wall from streets on each side. The effect that should accompany an imperial residence is marred, however, as the entrance to the passageway leading to the grounds was enclosed with an unshapely frame structure, guarded by soldiers. The streets through that section of the city were paved with loose gravel. Green stretches of grass and park spaces, together with splendid vistas, characterize the scene about the location of the imperial palace. Visitors are not allowed to enter.
The police and military systems of Japan are so perfect that a foreigner's whereabouts while in the country will be accounted for by the authorities to the minute. The officers have shelters to stand in throughout the city, in which a telephone is placed. None seemed officious, but they can put their hands on a visitor any time they have occasion to do so.
At one end of the city is located what is familiarly known as Asakusa Temple, the church of the poor, the grounds and buildings of which are nearly always crowded with people. On and near the grounds are seen fortune tellers, fakirs, toy vendors, flaring advertisements, observation towers, side shows, idols and altars, and the clatter of clogs is loudly heard. In front of this temple are shrines, one of them erected to Binguru, the helper of the sick. Binguru is made of stone, and wears a pink bib. The people believe that by rubbing an affected part of the body on the stone image they will be cured. As a result, Binguru is growing less in weight from year to year by reason of so many hands coming in contact with the stone god. Priests sell pictures of the goddess Kwannon, which, the people believe, will bring them good fortune—a baby boy to a home, for instance—and, in a general sense, keep away evil days. Then the church treasury is replenished by priests telling fortunes. The contribution box is different to those seen in any other temple, being 6 feet long and 18 inches deep, with strips of wood nailed across the top, one side higher than the other. Between the strips over the top were openings of two inches. A railing separates the money trough from worshipers. Though the people are not burdened with money, the coins rattling in that cattle-guard-like money-box sounded like rain dropping on a tin roof.
The amusement center of Tokyo is located a few squares from Asakusa Temple. Hundreds of theaters stand within a short radius, and the life of the Chinese and Japanese peoples reaches its zenith in these districts. The streets are literally emblazoned from both sides with vari-colored canvas, containing, in Japanese, an account of what is going on inside the buildings. Pictures of the show are painted on sheets of cloth in red, yellow, orange, black, blue—in fact, all colors—and large lights hang thickly above these—truly a striking combination of light and hues. The charge for these performances is from 2½ to 10 cents.
At one theater, where admission was five cents, foreigners' shoes had to be covered with cloth. It seemed as if religious custom was being carried too far to be halted by an attendant with a pair of canvas slippers to conceal leather from the floor of a five-cent show house. After leaving and walking a square's distance from the building, a man stepped in front and offered 10 sen, the sum paid for admission, but, having forfeited all claim to it, I continued on my way. But that would not do, the usher refusing to leave until I had accepted the 10 sen. Thereupon I returned to the theater, bought another ticket, and submitted to slippers custom.
A trench was being dug on one of the main streets away from the business center, and a pile driver was used to drive heavy scantlings for shoring. The iron weight was raised by ropes, pulled by women. Pulleys were fastened to the top of the derrick, and ropes ran over these. A dozen women were engaged at the work, each one with a rope in her hand, and if the ropes had been colored the scene would have resembled that of a Maypole gathering. They all pulled together when the weight was to be raised, and some of the pullers, stepping back as the weight came nearer the top, danced, hummed a keep-step song, and joined in laughter at the same time. When the weight reached the top of the derrick, all let go the ropes, and gave a shout as it hit the top of the shoring post.