We move slowly out of the great green bay. The groups of women become
lost in the distance. The country of round and thousand-ribbed
umbrellas fades gradually from our sight.
Now the great sea opens before us, immense, colorless, solitary; a
solemn repose after so much that was too ingenious and too small.
The wooded mountains, the charming capes disappear. And Japan remains
faithful to itself in its last picturesque rocks, its quaint islands
on which the trees tastefully arrange themselves in groups--studied
perhaps, but charmingly pretty.