shops, at all of which there was something interesting to be seen.  Many are perfect museums; but their proprietors never seem to care much to show you what they have, unless you are accompanied by a resident or some one they know.  Then they invite you into the iron fire-proof ‘godown’ or store, at the back, and out of funny little boxes and bags and parcels produce all sorts of rare and curious things which have been sent to them to be sold, or which they may possibly have bought themselves.  It is not of the slightest use to go to the large shops, full of things, if you want anything really good, for you will only find there articles specially prepared for the European and American market.

I am very glad to hear that Dr. Dresser is here, collecting, lecturing, and trying to persuade the Japanese to adhere to their own forms and taste in art and decoration.  It is a great pity to observe the decadence of native art, and at the same time to see how much better the old things are than the new.  A true Japanese artist never repeats himself, and consequently never makes an exact pair of anything.  His designs agree generally, and his vases are more or less alike, without being a precise match.  He throws in a spray of flowers, a bird, or a fan, as the fancy strikes him, and the same objects are therefore never placed in exactly the same relative position.  Modern articles are made precisely alike, not only in pairs, but by the dozen and the hundred.

There are beautiful bantams to be seen in some of the shops here; but they cannot be bought, as they are private pets.  They seem generally very small, and one I saw to-day had his head far behind his tail, which divided in the middle outwards, and fell forward on either side of his neck in the most extraordinary way.  How he picked up his food and got through life, I am sure I don’t know.  There are plenty of little Japanese dogs; but they are not seen to advantage this cold weather, and there would be great difficulty in getting them home.

I bought some fine bantams at Yokohama, and a whole cage full of rice-birds.  They are the dearest little things, and spend most of the day bathing and twittering, occasionally getting all together into one nest, with their twenty-five heads peeping out.  They are exactly like a magnified grain of rice, with legs and a bill.  I hope I shall take them home alive, as they have borne the cold very well so far.  We have also some mandarin ducks on board, and some gold and silver fish with two tails.  Our sailors have over a hundred birds of their own, which never appear on deck, except on very sunny days.  I don’t know where they can keep them, unless they stow them away in their Japanese cabinets.

We went on board about dark, and a few friends came to dinner.