There are so many things to tell you about “Nippon,” as the Japanese
call their country, that I do not know where to begin.
But first of all I must tell you how we landed. There were six of
us,—Charlotte and Alice and Fred, their father and mother, and I,—and
we had come all the way across the Pacific Ocean in a big ship.
Our ship was anchored out in the harbor, and we were told we might go
ashore.
We wondered if we were expected to swim, but it seemed too far for that.
You can imagine how glad we were when we looked over the side of the
ship and saw a great many little boats waiting for us.
A stairway was hung out over the side of the ship, and we walked down
into the little boats, just as we walk down stairs in our houses.
Then the trunks were lowered by ropes into little Japanese rowboats,
called sampans, and we waved “good-by” to the captain and all our
friends on the ship.
[Illustration]
Did you ever go to sleep and dream you were in a doll’s country, where
you seemed like a giant? Alice said she knew now just how that other
Alice felt in her visit to Wonderland, for she never saw such tiny
little people, and such tiny little houses, and even such tiny little
trees.
When we got on shore we found queer little two-wheeled carriages, drawn
by men instead of horses. The carriages are called jinrikishas, and are
just big enough for one person.
We each got into one of these carriages and the jinrikisha boys picked
up the shafts and trotted off like nice little ponies.
These boys wear dark-blue trousers that fit their legs very tightly,
and a short blue jacket with flowing sleeves, and on their back is a
Chinese letter painted in white, which is their employer’s name.
On their feet they wear straw sandals which they kick off, when they
are worn out, as a horse casts his shoe. The hat is a funny round straw
disk, covered with white, which makes them look like toadstools.
The houses, as I said, are very tiny, not much larger than your
playhouses, and the walls are all made of sliding screens that can be
pushed aside, leaving the house open.
The floors are covered with matting, which is as soft as cushions, but
there is no furniture anywhere to be seen, for the Japanese sit on the
floor and sleep on the floor, and their tables are tiny little trays.
The houses are spotlessly clean, for no Japanese would think of going
into a house with his shoes on, any more than you would walk over your
mother’s chairs and cushions in your shoes.
One day we went to see a wonderful image. We rode out to it in
jinrikishas, and we each had two ’rikisha boys to pull us. We sped
along at a rapid pace, for the boys are so well trained that they make
nearly as good time as a horse, and a day’s run is sometimes as much as
forty miles.
We had a regular Japanese “tiffin,” or lunch, at a little Japanese inn
that had a pretty garden all around it. We took off our shoes at the
door just as the Japanese do, and walked across the soft, matted floor.
A screen was drawn aside for us to enter, and then closed again,
leaving us in a little room. Here we all squatted on our heels, as
nearly like a Japanese as our stiff muscles would let us, for, without
being trained, it is hard to shut up like a jackknife.
[Illustration]
Then pretty little Japanese girls stole in noiselessly, bringing us
trays of food, one for each person, and knelt down beside us to uncover
our dishes and wait on us.
In one tiny bowl was some vegetable soup, in another some rice, and in
a third some fish, which was cooked for us, though to have been truly
Japanese we should have eaten it raw.
Of course there was tea. Everywhere you go they give you tea in wee
cups without handles; just about a thimbleful, without cream and
without sugar; not at all as we drink it at home.
But with all this feast before us, there was nothing to eat it with but
two funny little chopsticks, and terrible times we had trying to manage
those little sticks that serve the Japanese so well, but which seemed
bewitched the minute we got them between our fingers.
After trying a long time we would get a mouthful, as we thought, firmly
fixed between the chopsticks, but just as we would open our mouths to
take it in, the bewitched chopsticks would give a twitch, and down the
whole thing would fall again.
So, though we spent much time over it, we ate very little, and we all
agreed that it is better to eat with forks as we do in America.
After tiffin we went to a silk factory, for a great deal of silk is
manufactured in Japan. There we found over three thousand girls and
women busy unrolling the cocoons. The silk is woven in another place,
and rolled in neat rolls, ready for sale.
Most of the way we rode along the beach, where we could see the
fishermen in their boats, and in one boat was a boy we called Urashima,
for when we looked for him a second time he had disappeared.
—_Charlotte Chaffee Gibson._
* * * * *
What do the Japanese call their country?
Where was the big ship anchored?
How did the passengers get from the ship to the shore?
What is a jinrikisha? How is it drawn?
Describe a Japanese house.
What is the Japanese word for lunch?
What did the children have to eat at the inn?
What did they have to eat it with?
Where did they go after “tiffin?”
What would you like to do if you should go to Japan?