The area of Japan is about half as large again as that of the British Islands, and the population is, roughly, a quarter more. But if the recently acquired parts of the mainland, Korea and Kwan-tung, be included, 77,000 square miles must be added and the population increased to 65 millions.
Early on the morning of November 9 we pass through the strait of Shimonoseki into the Inland Sea, the Mediterranean of Japan, which lies between the islands Hondo, Kiu-shiu, and Shikoku. The scenery which unfolds itself on all sides is magnificent, and is constantly changing. Close around us, away over the open passages and in among the dark islands, is the clear, green, salt water, edged with foaming surf and dotted with picturesque fishing-boats under full sail; and as a frame to the gently heaving sea we have the innumerable islands—some large, some small, some wooded, others bare, but all sloping steeply to the shore, where the breakers thunder eternally. A pleasant breeze is felt on the promenade deck of the Tenyo Maru, the air is fresh and pure, the day bright and cheerful, and from sea and coast comes a curious mixed odour of salt brine and pine needles.
At dusk we cast anchor in the roadstead of Kobe, where the Tenyo Maru has to remain for twenty-four hours in order to take cargo on board. A launch takes us to the busy town, and we determine to spend the night on shore in a genuine Japanese hotel. At the entrance we are met by the landlord, in a garment like a petticoat and a thin mantle with short hanging sleeves. Two small waiting-maids take off our shoes and put a pair of slippers on our feet. We go up a narrow wooden staircase and along a passage with a brightly polished wooden floor. Outside a sliding door we take off our slippers and enter in stocking feet. Cleanliness is the first rule in a Japanese house, and it would be thought inexcusable to enter a room in shoes which had lately been in the dust and dirt of the lanes and streets.
Our rooms are divided from one another by partitions of paper or the thinnest veneer, which can be partially drawn aside so that the rooms may be thrown into one. Here and there mottoes are inscribed on hanging shields, and we see that they are written in the same singular characters as are used in China. On one wall hangs a kakemono, or a long strip of paper with flowers painted in water-colours. On a small carved wooden stool below the painting stands a dwarf tree scarcely two feet in height. It is a cherry-tree which has been prevented from growing to its full size, but it is a real, living tree, perhaps twenty years old, and exactly like an ordinary cherry-tree, only so small that it might have come from Lilliput.
The floor is laid with mats of rice straw with black borders. Each mat is 6 feet long and 3 wide, and when a house is built the areas of the rooms are always calculated in a certain number of mats; thus a room of six mats is spoken of, or one of eight mats. Not infrequently the rooms are so small that three or even two mats will cover the floor.
We take our seats crossed-legged or on our heels on small, square, down cushions, the only furniture to be seen. A young Japanese maiden, also in stocking feet, enters and places a stove in the middle of our circle. There is no fireplace. This stove is shaped like a flower-pot, made of thick metal, and is filled with fine white ashes. The young woman builds the ashes up into a cone like the summit of Fujiyama and lays fresh glowing charcoal against it. Instead of tongs she uses a pair of small iron rods.
Bedsteads are not used in Japan, and the bedding, which consists of thick padded quilts of rustling silk, is simply spread out on the mats on the floor. All the service and attendance is performed by women. They are dressed in their becoming and tasteful national costume, the "kimono," a close-fitting coloured garment, cut out round the neck, a broad sash of cloth round the waist, and a large rosette like a cushion at the back. Their hair is jet black, smooth, and shiny, and is arranged in tresses that look as if they were carved in ebony. Japanese women are always clean, neat, and dainty, and it is vain to look for a speck of dust on a silken cuff. If they did not giggle sometimes, you might think that they were dolls of wax or china. They are treated like princesses with the greatest politeness and consideration, for such is the custom of the country. They do their work conscientiously, and are always cheerful, contented, and friendly.
