But for all our devices to while away the time, the thirty-two days of ship life was to all of us the longest month of our lives. The Pacific, as Mr. Peggotty says, is “a mort of water,” a vast, desolate waste of waters from Honolulu to our first landing place, Yokohama. We had a wonderful glimpse of the sacred mountain, Fujiyama. The snow-capped peak stood transfigured as it caught full the rays of the descending sun. Cone-shaped, triangular, perhaps; what was it like, this gleaming silhouette against the deep blue sky? Was it a mighty altar, symbol of earth’s need of sacrifice, or emblem of the unity of the ever present triune God? ’Tis little wonder that it is, to the people over whom it stands guard, an object of reverence, of worship; that pilgrimages are made to its sacred heights; that yearly many lives are sacrificed in the toilsome ascent on bare feet, on bare knees.

As we went through Japan’s inland sea, one of the most beautiful bodies of water on the globe, it seemed, at times, as if we might reach out and shake hands with the natives in their curious houses, we passed so near to them—the odd little houses, unlike any we had ever seen; while about us was every known kind of Japanese craft with curious sails of every conceivable kind and shape. On the overloaded boats the curious little Japanese sailors, oddly dressed in thick padded coverings and bowl caps on their heads, with nothing on limbs and feet save small straw sandals, strapped to the feet between great and second toes, looked top-heavy.

While I watched all these new things, I was eagerly on the lookout for the wreck of the Morgan City, on which my son had sailed. Nothing was visible of the ill-fated ship but a single spar, one long finger of warning held aloft. As we passed on, watching the busy boats plying from shore to shore, the Chinese on the boat chattered and jabbered faster with each other than before; we fancied they were making fun of their little Japanese brethren. We arrived at Yokohama about 9 P. M., and were immediately placed in quarantine. The next morning a dozen Japanese quarantine officers appeared, covered all over with straps and bands of gold lace. They looked so insignificant and put on such an air of austere authority that one did not know whether to laugh or cry at their pomposity. They checked us off by squads and dozens, and by 12 o’clock we were ready to land. It was our first touch of Japanese soil, and we were about to take our first ride in a Jinricksha. It was very beautiful to hear as a greeting, “Ohio.” As I had been told by a Japanese student, whom I met in Cambridge, Mass., that this is the national greeting, I was not unprepared as was a fellow passenger, who said, “Oh, he must know where you came from.” My height and my white hair seemed to make me an object of interest. It was such a novel thing to be hauled around in those two-wheeled carts, one man pulling at the thills and another pushing at the rear. It is a fine experience, and one which we all enjoyed. The whole outfit is hired by the day for about a dollar, the price depending upon the amount of Pigeon English the leader can speak. The first thing they say to you is, “Me can speak English.” We found the hotel admirably kept.

The blind Japanese are an interesting class. They are trained at government cost to give massage treatment, and no others are allowed to practice. These blind nurses, male and female, go about the streets in care of an attendant, playing a plaintive tune on a little reed whistle in offer of their services. The treatment is delightful, the sensation is wholly new, and is most restful and invigorating after a long voyage.

No wonder that so many of the Japs are weak-eyed or totally blind. The children are exposed to the intense rays of the sun, as, suspended on their mothers’ backs, they dangle in their straps with their little heads wabbling helplessly. From friends who have kept house many years, I learned that the service rendered by the Japanese is, as a whole, unsatisfactory. Their cooking is entirely different from ours, and they do not willingly adapt themselves to our mode of living.

It is not my purpose to tell much about Japan and China; they were only stages on the way to the Philippines; and yet they were a preparation for the new, strange life there. But such is the charm of Japan that one’s memories cling to its holiday scenes and life.

The Japanese are really wise in beginning their New Year in spring. The first of April, cherry blossom day, is made the great day of all the year. There are millions of cherry blossoms on trees larger than many of our largest apple trees—wonderful double-flowering, beautiful trees, just one mass of pink blossoms as far as the eye can reach. They do so reverence these blossoms that they rarely pluck them, but carry about bunches made of paper or silk tissue that rival the natural ones in perfection. No person is so poor that he cannot, on this great festal day, have his house, shop, place of amusement or, at least, umbrella bedecked with these delicate blossoms. It is almost beyond belief the extent to which they carry this festal day, given up entirely to greetings and parades.

Then the wonderful wisteria! In its blossoming time the flower clusters hang from long sprays like rich fringe. From the hill-tops the view down on the tiny cottages, wreathed with the luxuriant vines, is most beautiful. A single cluster is often three feet long. They make cups, bowls and plates from the trunk of the vine.

There are marsh fields of the white lotus. The ridges of the heavily thatched roofs are set with iris plants and their many hued blossoms make a garden in the air.

One should visit Japan from April to November. In the cultivation of the chrysanthemum they lay more stress on the small varieties than we do; they prefer number to size. The autumn foliage is beautiful beyond belief,—vision alone can do it justice. The hillsides, the mountain slopes are thickly set with the miniature maples and evergreens; the clear, brilliant hues of the one, heightened by contrast with the dark green of the other, are strikingly vivid.

The trees and shrubs are surely more gnarled and knotted than they are in Christian countries. They are trained in curious fashion. One limb of a tree is coaxed and stretched to see how far it can be extended from the body of the tree. At first I could not believe that these limbs belonged to a stump so far away. The Japanese pride themselves on their shrubs and flowers. Nothing gave me more pleasure than seeing all this cultivation of the gardens, no matter how small, around each home. I did not see a single bit of wood in Japan like anything that we have. The veining, color, texture and adaptiveness to polish suggest marble of every variety.

At Yokohama I engaged a guide, Takenouchi. I found him to be a faithful attendant; his devotion and energy in satisfying my various requests was unwearied; I shall ever feel grateful to him. He would make me understand by little nods, winks, and sly pushes that I was not to purchase, and he would afterwards say: “I will go back and get the articles for you for just one-half the price the shop-keeper told you.” They hope to sell to Americans for a better price than they ever get from each other. We went to every kind of shop; they are amusingly different from ours. Few things are displayed in the windows or on the shelves, but they are done up in fine parcels and tucked away out of sight. It is the rule to take two or three days to sit at various counters before you attempt to purchase. The seller would much rather keep his best things; he tries in every way to induce you to take the cheaper ones, or ones of inferior quality. My guide was in every way capable and efficient in the selection of fine embroideries, porcelain, bronzes, and pictures.