The town was full of country people who had come to see the festival.  One feature of it was the performance of plays on four ancient wheeled stages of a simplicity in construction that would have delighted William Poel.  Formerly these plays were given by the local youths; now professional actors are employed.  The different acts of the historical dramas which were performed were divided into half a dozen scenes, and when one of these scenes had been enacted the stage was wheeled farther along the street.  At the conclusion of each scene some three dozen small boys, all wearing the white-and-black speckled cotton kimono and German caps which are the common wear of lads throughout Japan, would swarm up on the stage, and, with fans waved downwards, would yell at the pitch of their voices an ancient jingle, which seemed to signify “Push, push, push and go on!” This was addressed to a score or so of young men who with loud shouts hauled the heavy stage-wagon along the street.  The performances on the four moving theatres went on simultaneously and sometimes the cars passed one another.  The performances were given on the eve and on the day and through the night of the festival.  The acting was amazingly good, considering the July heat and the cramped conditions in which the actors worked.  Happy boys sat at the back of the scenes fanning the players.  Our kindly and voluble landlady was not satisfied with the number of times the stages stopped before her inn.  She loudly threatened the youths who were dragging them that she would reclaim some properties she had lent and tell her dead husband of their ingratitude!

At one of the booths which had been opened for the festival by a strolling company there were women actors, contrary to the convention of the Japanese stage on which men enact female roles and in doing so use a special falsetto.  Some of these actresses performed men’s parts.  At every performance in a Japanese theatre, as I have already mentioned, a policeman is provided with a chair on a special platform, or in an otherwise favourable position, so that he can view and if necessary censor what is going on.  The constable at this particular play was kind enough to offer me his seat.  The rest of the audience was content with the floor.  The poor little company of players brought to their work both ability and an artistic conscience, but they had to do everything in the rudest way.  They were in no way embarrassed by the attendants frequently trimming the inferior oil lamps on the stage.  A little girl on the floor, entranced by the performance on the stage, or curious about some detail of it, ran forward and laid her chin on the boards and studied the actors at leisure.  The folk in the front row of the gallery dangled their naked legs for coolness.

One of my friends asked me how we managed in the West to identify the people who wanted to leave the theatre between the acts.  I explained that as our performances did not last from early afternoon until nearly midnight it was rare for anyone to wish to leave a theatre until the play was over.  At a Japanese playhouse, however, a portion of the audience may be disposed to go home at some stage of the proceedings and return later.  The careful manager of a small theatre identifies these patrons by impressing a small stamp on the palms of their hands.