They were surely not the most distinguished friends we made while we
were in Japan. As far as worldly considerations went, they were very
humble indeed; but they possessed other qualifications which entitled
them to our favour, and the youthful Eba particularly has left a
lasting impression on our minds. Throughout our stay they were our
companions; we could never visit a temple without their aid, nor climb
a mountain without their words of advice and encouragement. On many
a shopping expedition did they faithfully act as our guides, and many
a quiet hint would they give us as to the commercial wiles of their
countrymen.
[Illustration]
Cho and Eba belonged to the most insignificant class of oriental
society. In a land where caste is of such importance, I know that any
of our aristocratic Japanese friends would be horrified to learn that
we entertain so kindly a remembrance of these paltry creatures, to whom
the haughty noblemen of the East would hardly deign to give a passing
glance. Perhaps it was because we treated them differently that they
repaid us with such tender regard and would apparently sacrifice
any happiness of their own to give us a momentary satisfaction.
For our humble friends were _jinrikisha_ men, and, more than that,
they belonged to the despised class of the coolies. Before you have
travelled long in Japan you will become very familiar with the
two-wheeled conveyance which has become an institution of the country,
and will take a patriotic interest in it, for it is reported to be the
invention of an American. It is a low carriage with shafts, in which
a toiling coolie acceptably fills the place of a horse, and it is
preferred by the Japanese to the most elaborate coach-and-four of the
West. It was for this position in the world that Cho and Eba were born,
and in this capacity they proved indispensable to us.
It was at our landing that we met them for the first time, and had our
first _jinrikisha_ ride. As you step upon the soil of Japan, you will
see a long row of these carriages with shafts resting on the ground,
and at the same time a corresponding row of unobtrusive natives who
accost you with a most respectful air. They have been sitting between
the shafts, with their hands around their knees, patiently awaiting the
landing of the boat, when they know their services will be required to
conduct the passengers to the Grand Hotel. They have spent the time in
laughing at each other and cracking Japanese jokes, for the amount of
merriment they can get out of life seems without end. If the air is
cold, they will be wrapped up in blankets, and will remind you of our
western Indians; but oftener their covering consists of the simple blue
tights which will become so familiar to you in the days to come. If you
are so unfortunate as to land on a rainy day, they will throw this
aside for a covering of straw with bare feet and legs; but the weather
will not affect their spirits at all, and they will sit with the water
pouring down upon them, and crack the same old jokes, and laugh with
an appreciation to which the sunshine can add nothing. They wear the
regulation mushroom hat, with their name and number inscribed across
the front.
[Illustration]
You will, of course, immediately call to mind the hackmen of the West,
but more by way of contrast than comparison. The duties of each are
in a large measure the same, but here they are exercised in a way
that is entirely different. The Japs have none of the disagreeable
aggressiveness of their western contemporaries; they are quiet and
polite, preferring, indeed, that you should take the initiative in
the transaction. It is very interesting to watch the outcome of a
rivalry that sometimes occurs when two of the coolies hit upon the same
patron. The angry dispute to which many of us are accustomed never
takes place; they treat each other to smiles instead of scowls, and the
unsuccessful aspirant leaves with a laugh to find a more appreciative
customer. During my stay in Japan I hardly ever saw a discontented or
angry _jinrikisha_ man, and if a genial smile and gentle manners are
an indication of inward happiness, they are the happiest mortals it has
been my lot to meet.
All this is very well, and yet it is with some hesitation that you
decide to surrender yourself into the care of one of those unpromising
equipages, and it was my first impulse to look around and see if
something less oriental could not be had; but I quickly reproved
myself, and remembered that I was in Japan. Meanwhile, my companion had
arranged the matter, and I saw a little old man smilingly approaching,
dragging the dreaded _jinrikisha_ behind him. His face was sadly
wrinkled, his moustache was small and grizzled, and when he lifted his
hat I saw that his hair was white. His spirit, however, seemed very
buoyant, and not to have suffered from the many years of toil that
would occasionally make his step a little unsteady. I felt a natural
hesitation about permitting this little old man to drag me about the
city; but the almost paternal air with which he assisted me into the
carriage made me feel more at ease. Glancing at his cap, I saw that my
new acquaintance bore the name of “Cho.”
I had hardly been comfortably seated when I saw my companion ride
past, borne by much nimbler and more youthful legs than those of my
poor old Cho. Riding in Japan is the most unsocial thing in the world.
Each traveller has a _jinrikisha_ to himself, and the carriages are
compelled by law to move in single file, so that the streets may not
be blockaded. It is true that they will sometimes hold more than one
person; but these conveyances are meant for the Japanese alone, who
are so light that two can be carried by one man. The constant parade
of the _jinrikishas_, therefore, through a large thoroughfare, is very
interesting. It makes no difference how many people there may be in
your party; one must follow another in regular order, or your offending
coolie may find himself in the lock-up before the day is over. You
can easily see the disadvantages of this state of affairs; it makes
conversation almost impossible,--and who can travel with pleasure if he
cannot talk?
Both for this reason and for another, which I afterwards learned,
I soon lost sight of my companion, whose more sprightly attendant
speedily left my veteran in the background. Cho made little effort to
gain a position ahead of his fellows, but leisurely fell into line,
and trotted along with the contentment of old age. As I knew that my
forerunner was looking for rooms, I was not greatly annoyed.
I arrived at last, bringing up the rear; and as we stood there
congratulating ourselves, the younger man slowly approached us. Eba
had a face of unusual intelligence, and his eyes sparkled in a way
that contrasted forcibly with the dreamy blinking of Cho. His whole
appearance was less conservative. Under his _kimono_ he wore something
that had a resemblance to western trousers, and he had discarded the
mushroom-hat for a peaked cap like that of a college student. His every
feature bore evidence of a keen though kindly disposition; his hair was
thick and wiry, his eyebrows heavy, his mouth large and firm. He had a
way of darting sharp glances at you that immediately let you know that
here was a man who was not likely to bring up last in a _’rikisha_ or
any other race.