The housen of this village are mostly made of bamboo—­not a nail used in the place.  Why, sometimes one hull side of their housen would be made of a mat of braided bamboo.  Bamboo is used by them for food, shelter, war implements, medicine, musical instruments, and everything else.  Their housen wuz made in Japan, and brung over here and set up by native workmen.  They have thatched ruffs and kinder open-work sides, dretful curious-lookin’, and on the wide porticos of these housen little native wimmen set and embroider, and wind skeins of gay-colored cotton, and play with their little brown black-eyed babies.

The costumes of the Japanese look dretful curious to us; their loose gay-colored robes and turbans, and sandals, etc., look jest as strange as Josiah’s pantaloons and hat, and my bask waist duz to them, I spoze.

They’re a pleasant little brown people, always polite—­that is learnt ’em as regular as any other lesson.  Then there is another thing that our civilized race could learn of the heathen ones.

Missionaries that we send out to teach the heathen let their own children sass ’em and run over ’em.  That is the reason that they act so sassy when they’re growed up.  Politeness ort to be learnt young, even if it has to be stomped in with spanks.

The Japanese are a child-like people easily pleased, easily grieved—­laughin’ and cryin’ jest like children.

They work all day, not fast enough to hurt ’em, and at nightfall they go out and play all sorts of native games.

That’s a good idee.  I wish that Jonesvillians would foller it.  You’d much better be shootin’ arrers from blowpipes than to blow round and jaw your household.  And you’d much better be runnin’ a foot race than runnin’ your neighbors.

They’ve got a theatre where they perform their native dances and plays, and one man sets behind a curtain and duz all the conversation for all the actors.  I spoze he changes his voice some for the different folks.

Wall, I led Josiah off towards the church, where all the articles of furniture is a big bamboo chair, where the priest sets and meditates when he thinks his people needs his thought.

I d’no but it helps ’em some, if he thinks hard enough—­thoughts are dretful curious things, anyway.

Josiah and I took considerable comfort a-wanderin’ round and seein’ all we could, and noticin’ how kind o’ turned round things wuz from Jonesville idees.

Now, they had some queer-lookin’ little store-housen, and for all the world they opened at the top instead of the sides, to keep the snakes out of the rice in their native land, so they said.

Josiah wuz jest crazy to have one made like it.

“Why,” sez he, “think of the safety on’t, Samantha!  Who’d ever think of goin’ into a corn house on top if they wanted to steal some corn?”

But I sez, “Foreign customs have got to be adopted with megumness, Josiah Allen.”  Sez I, “With your rumatiz, how would you climb up on’t a dozen times a day?”