In every town and village one is struck with the various imitations of European goods.  Ludicrous mistakes are everywhere met with, where this serio-comical people have attempted to imitate name, trade-mark, and everything complete.  In one portion of the eating-house where lunch is obtained to-day are a number of umbrella-makers manufacturing gingham umbrellas; on every umbrella is stamped the firm-name “John Douglas, Manchester.”  Cigarettes, nicely made and equal in every respect to those of other countries, are boldly labelled “cigars:”  thus do these curious imitators make mistakes.  Had Shakespeare seen the Japs one could better understand his “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players;” for most other nations life is a serious enough problem, the Japs alone seem to be merely “playing at making a livelihood.”  They always impress me as happy-go-lucky harlequins, to whom this whole business of coming into the world and getting a living for a few years is nothing more nor less than a huge joke.

The happiest state of affairs seems to exist among all classes and conditions of people in Japan.  One passes school-houses and sees the classes out on the well-kept grounds, going through various exercises, such as one would never expect to see in the East.  To-day I pause a while before the public-school in Nakabairu, watching the interesting exercises going on.  Under the supervision of teachers in black frock-coats and Derby hats, a class of girls are ranged in two rows, throwing and catching pillows, altogether back and forth at the word of command.  Classes of boys are manipulating wooden dumb-bells and exercising their muscles by various systematic exercises.  The youngsters are enjoying it hugely, and the whole affair looks so thoroughly suggestive of the best elements of Occidental school-life that it is difficult to believe the evidence of one’s own eyes.  I suspect the Japanese children are about the only children in the wide, wide world who really enjoy studying their lessons and going to school.  One of the teachers comes to the gate and greets me with a polite bow.  I address him in English, but he doesn’t know a word.

The wooden houses of Japan seem frail and temporary, but they look new and bright mostly in the country.  The government buildings, police-offices, post-offices, schools, etc., all look new and bright and artistic, as though but lately finished.  The roads, too, are sometimes laid out straight and trim, suggestive of an attempt to imitate the roads of France; then, again, one traverses for miles the counterpart of the green lanes of Merrie England—­narrow, winding, and romantic.  The Japanese roads are mainly about ten or twelve feet wide, giving ample room for two jinrikishas to pass, these being the only wheeled vehicles on the roads.  Rustic bridges frequently span lovely little babbling brooks, and waterfalls abound this afternoon as I approach, at early eve, Futshishi.  Rain necessitates a lay-over of a day at Futshishi, but there is nothing unendurable about it; the proprietor of the house is a blind man, who plays the samosan, and makes the girls sing and dance the geisha for my edification.  Beef and chicken are both forthcoming at Futshishi, and the fish, as in almost all Japanese towns, are very excellent.