CHAPTER VI.JAPAN’S QUEER CREDIT SYSTEM—INTER OCEAN TOURISTS AT THE BURIAL OF PRINCE KITASHIRAKAWA—A POINT FOR ALL AMERICANS.The Club Hotel, which is the headquarters for American tourists and residents, is situated only a block from the pier and adjacent to the Consulates, shops and points of interest. The owners and managers are Europeans, or “foreigners” as they are called in Japan, but the service of the hotel is exclusively by natives. Your room is cared for by a “boy,” your meals served by a “boy” and “boys,” sometimes 50 years of age, perform every possible service. There are without doubt more courtesies shown a guest in Japan than in any other country. Our reception in the city was all that we could ask. The letter to Col. McIvor, American Consul, from friends at his home in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, made us thrice welcome at that gentleman’s residence. The fact of our representing an American newspaper made us at home in newspaper circles, which are controlled largely by Americans. Our coming had been heralded to the wheelmen of Japan, and as we were expected some weeks before we arrived, the coming was of more than ordinary interest.Bicycling, at the time of my visit, was just beginning to become popular in Japan, and what machines were used were imported at great cost from the States and Europe. But with commendable enterprise the manufacturers of Japan now perfect their own machines, all parts of which are made and assembled in local concerns, operated by local capital and mechanics. In Japan it is not expected that cash will be tendered for anything purchased or rented, with perhaps the exception of “rickshas,” which correspond in their common use to thecabs of American cities, only that they are drawn by “boys” instead of horses. There is an abominable system of credit established in the empire by which all foreigners purchase and temporarily pay for all articles upon bits of memorandum called “chits.” If a gentleman in Yokohama wishes a drink, a cigar, new hat or even a suit of clothes, he steps into the nearest place of business adapted to filling his requirements and, after making his purchase, signs a bit of paper, giving date, price and buyer’s name and address, and the first of every month the “chit” is sent him as a receipt bill. To a well-appearing foreigner reasonable credit will be extended without question. My knowledge of this system was derived in the most peculiar manner. Mrs. McIlrath and I were touring the shops, when her attention was attracted by a shawl. She entered the shop, priced the article and I advised the purchase, but our pocketbook had been left at the hotel, she blushingly informed me. We thanked the shopman for his trouble and promised to return the same evening. The price was six yen, or about three dollars, as quoted by the dealer, and as we started out of the shop he called to us, asking if the price was too much. I explained our embarrassedcondition, and he immediately wrapped up the shawl, placing one of the printed slips upon the counter, asked me to sign a “chit” for five yen. I was an entire stranger, yet upon credit I obtained for one yen less that which I could not purchase for cash. The most astonishing fact connected with this extraordinary system is that no laws are provided to punish dead-beats or frauds.On Monday, Nov. 11, we journeyed over to Tokio, eighteen miles distant, to witness the funeral ceremonies over the body of His Imperial Highness Prince Kitashirakawa, a commander of the Imperial Guard. In tropical Formosa, under a fierce sun and amid miasmatic jungle, the prince died of malarial fever Oct. 29. The sad news reached Japan shortly after our arrival, but by a curious custom, was not announced to the people as authentic or an accepted fact until officially given out by the imperial authorities on Nov. 5. In fact the Prince officially lived until that time. News of his victories in Formosa brought forth new honors and distinctions, and upon Nov. 2, he, or rather the corpse, was decorated with the Collar of the Chrysanthemum and Grand Cordon of the Imperial Family. The service was simple, yet impressive, without a shade of paganism or superstition. There was much about it also that would befit countries, considering themselves superior to Japan to imitate. One most noticeable was the order of the assembled masses. Not a person offered to step outside of the prescribed limit. There was no jamming or crowding. No voices spoke louderthana whisper, and the presence of police and militia was necessary only as an exhibition of official dignity. Where housesof greater height than one story faced on the line of march, or porches existed above the elevation of the street, the curtains at windows and doors were closely drawn, and the occupants stood in the street. No yelling, gesticulating mob filled the telegraph and telephone poles and roofs, for it is not permissible in Japan that anyone look down upon the funeral of a dignitary. The passage of the Emperor through the streets calls into effect the same condition. He may be viewed from an equal level, but never looked down upon from an elevation.TRYING FOR INFORMATION ON THE ROAD.—SEE PAGE 36.TRYING FOR INFORMATION ON THE ROAD.—SEE PAGE36.I am glad to record that it is a mistaken impression that there exists in Japan a general feeling against Europeans and Americans. In any part of the Mikado’s realm the American is as safe as at home and the European is comparatively as secure. Why is this distinction of a degree made? During the late chastisement which Japan administered to China the action was so one-sided that it could scarcely be called war. As soon as the Russians interfered, threats were made by a few anarchistic extremists in Yokohama, Tokio and other large cities, against the “white man” and his property. The simple minds of the rabble of oriental nations do not regard the English, French, Russian and German subjects as belonging to distinctive nations, but classify them as the “white man.” The ministers and consuls at Tokio, during this excitement, were brought under guard to Yokohama. Their residences were guarded by police, and when any of these gentlemen drove out in carriages, they were surrounded by detectives, who were compelled to use force for the passages of theirvehiclesthrough the streets. Not an act of violence occurred which reflected upon the local government in the slightest degree, but the satisfactory ending of threatened murder and riot was due entirely to the vigilance of the secret service department. Upon the other hand, when the United States Consul drove out there was no necessity of a guard. A sight of the peerless colors of the United States emblazoned on the carriage door, or the unmistakable uniform of the driver, and the sea of humanity which filled the street would part, and with bows and cheers, allow our representative to go his way. Policemen and officers saluted with caps in hand, while perhaps only a half square away the guard of one of the other consuls struggled fiercely with an unyielding mob. That is the reason I say an American is as safe from personal interference in any part of Japan as in the heart of any of our great cities. An Englishman is, in fact, moresecurehere than he would be in any of the acquired provinces of Great Britain.The short rides of the Inter Ocean cyclists, taken in and about Yokohama, Kanagarua, Mississippi Bay and Tokio, demonstrated to us the truth that the Japanese have not only respect, but love for the Yankee. The roads of Japan compare favorably with the boulevards ofAmerican cities, except in matter of width. They are smooth, hard and upon the sea coast quite level. One of the finest courses I have ridden over is a six-mile run we took daily before breakfast in Yokohama. The course begins at the Club Hotel, along the Bund to the Yalo Bashi, following this to the Haz-Aso-No Bashi and from there to Mississippi Bay, the Bluffs and back to the hotel.The Inter Ocean tourists left Yokohama Monday, Nov. 18, having secured new passports for the interior, where the treaty laws do not extend protection or privileges to the foreigner. Our destination was unknown even to ourselves, but as we were astride our wheels it mattered little where we wound up, so long as interesting scenery and incidences were daily occurrences. One point, in main, was to form the center of a circle around which we intended to swing, and that center was Fujiyama, the sacred mountain. To reach the lower slopes of Fuji there are many pathways, but for cyclists there is but one that may be practicably adopted, and that by way of Gotenba, Yamanka and Yoshida, “the route of temples,” the course traveled by the native pilgrims to Fuji in summer months. We took a southwesterly direction from Yokohama and came to a well ballasted wagon road, running almost parallel with the railroad, connecting Tokio with Kobe, 400 miles south. We passed through the villages of Fujisawa, Hiratsuka and Oisa, crossing the River Vanugawa, and entering Kodsu, a village of large proportions, at noon. Kodsu is about thirty miles from Yokohama, and it was here we had hoped to eat our lunch and find drinking water in which we could place confidence. The one drawback to tourists in the interior of Japan is water. In their natural condition the waters are pure, cool streams, coursing down snow-clad mountains, miles in the interior, but passing through the villages, their course is diverted into ditches and water-boxes, running through the gutters and sometimes under the houses of the town. The sewerage of surface drains empties into these streams. Cooking utensils and food are washed, fish are cleaned and even dogs drink from and bathe in these gutters. The same system of water supply exists in all of Japan, and after we had struck Kodsu, Mrs. McIlrath and I drank only native-made beer during our stay in the land of the Mikado.At 1 o’clock we were again on the road, keeping with the railroad tracks until we passed through Sakawagawa. Little was to be seen but rice and vegetable fields, the mountains in the distance and the swift rushing river coursing to the sea. We covered 72 miles by 7 o’clock, arriving at Gotenba, where we spent our first night in a Japanese yadoyo, or inn. In a Japanese sleeping apartment there is nothing to be seen as one enters the room except matting upon the floor. There is not a table, chair, bed or any other article of furniturevisible. We had begun to think that we were to pass the night on the floor as we had done in the section houses of Nevada, when an attendant entered the room, bearing cushions, and a second one came with a table, small affairs resembling unpadded foot-rests, braziers with live coals and tiny bronze tea-kettles. The cushions were piled into soft heaps about fourteen inches high, the tables placed between, and we were motioned to a seat upon the cushions. To the right and left were placed box-like trays and in these our food was served in dainty bowls and dishes. At 9 o’clock, when I thought it time to retire, I clapped my hands for a servant. To the girl who answered I made known my wishes and she called two assistants, who appeared, each bringing a pair of padded comforters. The comforters were spread upon the matting in layers, and at the head of each was placed the Japanese substitute for a pillow, a box six inches square by twelve inches long, the upper edge slightly padded. We passed a most comfortable night, and awakened only by the maid entering our room with a tea set. After breakfast we called for our bill and the amount rendered was two yen, or one dollar in gold. Bed, bath, breakfast and supper, unequaled service and every attention in a first-class inn to be had at the rate of sixty cents a day! By 9 o’clock we were again on the road with Fujiyama looming up thirty miles away. From the guide, who had previously given us instructions, we knew which course to take, and so turned up the fork apparently leading to the very root of the mountain. We did not stop at Yamanaka village, but rode through the main streets, astounding the natives and passing from their view, before they realized what had happened, except that something unseen or unheard of before in Yamanaka had passed their way. From Yamanaka to Yoshida our path was over level, smooth roads, but in the latter place we were compelled to stop and consult our guide-books and the police. At the police station, before we were given any information, our passports were demanded. I produced mine, but Mrs. McIlrath had left hers, the most necessary of her effects, behind. The officer looked over my papers and then pointed to my wife. The passports had been made separately at our request, and of course mine made no mention of Mrs. McIlrath. To gain time and collect my wits I took the paper from the officer’s hands and glanced over the copy attached, which was written in English. An idea “struck” me. My name was “parted in the middle;” why not give my wife half of it? Calling the attention of the official to the English copy, I pointed to “H. Darwin,” and then to my wife. Then laying my finger upon the name “McIlrath,” I patted myself on the chest. The official referred to the Japanese copy, I repeated the pantomime, he smiled and bowed, and making a few mystic characters upon the passport, he altered it to read, “H. Darwin, female, and McIlrath, male.”
CHAPTER VI.JAPAN’S QUEER CREDIT SYSTEM—INTER OCEAN TOURISTS AT THE BURIAL OF PRINCE KITASHIRAKAWA—A POINT FOR ALL AMERICANS.The Club Hotel, which is the headquarters for American tourists and residents, is situated only a block from the pier and adjacent to the Consulates, shops and points of interest. The owners and managers are Europeans, or “foreigners” as they are called in Japan, but the service of the hotel is exclusively by natives. Your room is cared for by a “boy,” your meals served by a “boy” and “boys,” sometimes 50 years of age, perform every possible service. There are without doubt more courtesies shown a guest in Japan than in any other country. Our reception in the city was all that we could ask. The letter to Col. McIvor, American Consul, from friends at his home in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, made us thrice welcome at that gentleman’s residence. The fact of our representing an American newspaper made us at home in newspaper circles, which are controlled largely by Americans. Our coming had been heralded to the wheelmen of Japan, and as we were expected some weeks before we arrived, the coming was of more than ordinary interest.Bicycling, at the time of my visit, was just beginning to become popular in Japan, and what machines were used were imported at great cost from the States and Europe. But with commendable enterprise the manufacturers of Japan now perfect their own machines, all parts of which are made and assembled in local concerns, operated by local capital and mechanics. In Japan it is not expected that cash will be tendered for anything purchased or rented, with perhaps the exception of “rickshas,” which correspond in their common use to thecabs of American cities, only that they are drawn by “boys” instead of horses. There is an abominable system of credit established in the empire by which all foreigners purchase and temporarily pay for all articles upon bits of memorandum called “chits.” If a gentleman in Yokohama wishes a drink, a cigar, new hat or even a suit of clothes, he steps into the nearest place of business adapted to filling his requirements and, after making his purchase, signs a bit of paper, giving date, price and buyer’s name and address, and the first of every month the “chit” is sent him as a receipt bill. To a well-appearing foreigner reasonable credit will be extended without question. My knowledge of this system was derived in the most peculiar manner. Mrs. McIlrath and I were touring the shops, when her attention was attracted by a shawl. She entered the shop, priced the article and I advised the purchase, but our pocketbook had been left at the hotel, she blushingly informed me. We thanked the shopman for his trouble and promised to return the same evening. The price was six yen, or about three dollars, as quoted by the dealer, and as we started out of the shop he called to us, asking if the price was too much. I explained our embarrassedcondition, and he immediately wrapped up the shawl, placing one of the printed slips upon the counter, asked me to sign a “chit” for five yen. I was an entire stranger, yet upon credit I obtained for one yen less that which I could not purchase for cash. The most astonishing fact connected with this extraordinary system is that no laws are provided to punish dead-beats or frauds.On Monday, Nov. 11, we journeyed over to Tokio, eighteen miles distant, to witness the funeral ceremonies over the body of His Imperial Highness Prince Kitashirakawa, a commander of the Imperial Guard. In tropical Formosa, under a fierce sun and amid miasmatic jungle, the prince died of malarial fever Oct. 29. The sad news reached Japan shortly after our arrival, but by a curious custom, was not announced to the people as authentic or an accepted fact until officially given out by the imperial authorities on Nov. 5. In fact the Prince officially lived until that time. News of his victories in Formosa brought forth new honors and distinctions, and upon Nov. 2, he, or rather the corpse, was decorated with the Collar of the Chrysanthemum and Grand Cordon of the Imperial Family. The service was simple, yet impressive, without a shade of paganism or superstition. There was much about it also that would befit countries, considering themselves superior to Japan to imitate. One most noticeable was the order of the assembled masses. Not a person offered to step outside of the prescribed limit. There was no jamming or crowding. No voices spoke louderthana whisper, and the presence of police and militia was necessary only as an exhibition of official dignity. Where housesof greater height than one story faced on the line of march, or porches existed above the elevation of the street, the curtains at windows and doors were closely drawn, and the occupants stood in the street. No yelling, gesticulating mob filled the telegraph and telephone poles and roofs, for it is not permissible in Japan that anyone look down upon the funeral of a dignitary. The passage of the Emperor through the streets calls into effect the same condition. He may be viewed from an equal level, but never looked down upon from an elevation.TRYING FOR INFORMATION ON THE ROAD.—SEE PAGE 36.TRYING FOR INFORMATION ON THE ROAD.—SEE PAGE36.I am glad to record that it is a mistaken impression that there exists in Japan a general feeling against Europeans and Americans. In any part of the Mikado’s realm the American is as safe as at home and the European is comparatively as secure. Why is this distinction of a degree made? During the late chastisement which Japan administered to China the action was so one-sided that it could scarcely be called war. As soon as the Russians interfered, threats were made by a few anarchistic extremists in Yokohama, Tokio and other large cities, against the “white man” and his property. The simple minds of the rabble of oriental nations do not regard the English, French, Russian and German subjects as belonging to distinctive nations, but classify them as the “white man.” The ministers and consuls at Tokio, during this excitement, were brought under guard to Yokohama. Their residences were guarded by police, and when any of these gentlemen drove out in carriages, they were surrounded by detectives, who were compelled to use force for the passages of theirvehiclesthrough the streets. Not an act of violence occurred which reflected upon the local government in the slightest degree, but the satisfactory ending of threatened murder and riot was due entirely to the vigilance of the secret service department. Upon the other hand, when the United States Consul drove out there was no necessity of a guard. A sight of the peerless colors of the United States emblazoned on the carriage door, or the unmistakable uniform of the driver, and the sea of humanity which filled the street would part, and with bows and cheers, allow our representative to go his way. Policemen and officers saluted with caps in hand, while perhaps only a half square away the guard of one of the other consuls struggled fiercely with an unyielding mob. That is the reason I say an American is as safe from personal interference in any part of Japan as in the heart of any of our great cities. An Englishman is, in fact, moresecurehere than he would be in any of the acquired provinces of Great Britain.The short rides of the Inter Ocean cyclists, taken in and about Yokohama, Kanagarua, Mississippi Bay and Tokio, demonstrated to us the truth that the Japanese have not only respect, but love for the Yankee. The roads of Japan compare favorably with the boulevards ofAmerican cities, except in matter of width. They are smooth, hard and upon the sea coast quite level. One of the finest courses I have ridden over is a six-mile run we took daily before breakfast in Yokohama. The course begins at the Club Hotel, along the Bund to the Yalo Bashi, following this to the Haz-Aso-No Bashi and from there to Mississippi Bay, the Bluffs and back to the hotel.The Inter Ocean tourists left Yokohama Monday, Nov. 18, having secured new passports for the interior, where the treaty laws do not extend protection or privileges to the foreigner. Our destination was unknown even to ourselves, but as we were astride our wheels it mattered little where we wound up, so long as interesting scenery and incidences were daily occurrences. One point, in main, was to form the center of a circle around which we intended to swing, and that center was Fujiyama, the sacred mountain. To reach the lower slopes of Fuji there are many pathways, but for cyclists there is but one that may be practicably adopted, and that by way of Gotenba, Yamanka and Yoshida, “the route of temples,” the course traveled by the native pilgrims to Fuji in summer months. We took a southwesterly direction from Yokohama and came to a well ballasted wagon road, running almost parallel with the railroad, connecting Tokio with Kobe, 400 miles south. We passed through the villages of Fujisawa, Hiratsuka and Oisa, crossing the River Vanugawa, and entering Kodsu, a village of large proportions, at noon. Kodsu is about thirty miles from Yokohama, and it was here we had hoped to eat our lunch and find drinking water in which we could place confidence. The one drawback to tourists in the interior of Japan is water. In their natural condition the waters are pure, cool streams, coursing down snow-clad mountains, miles in the interior, but passing through the villages, their course is diverted into ditches and water-boxes, running through the gutters and sometimes under the houses of the town. The sewerage of surface drains empties into these streams. Cooking utensils and food are washed, fish are cleaned and even dogs drink from and bathe in these gutters. The same system of water supply exists in all of Japan, and after we had struck Kodsu, Mrs. McIlrath and I drank only native-made beer during our stay in the land of the Mikado.At 1 o’clock we were again on the road, keeping with the railroad tracks until we passed through Sakawagawa. Little was to be seen but rice and vegetable fields, the mountains in the distance and the swift rushing river coursing to the sea. We covered 72 miles by 7 o’clock, arriving at Gotenba, where we spent our first night in a Japanese yadoyo, or inn. In a Japanese sleeping apartment there is nothing to be seen as one enters the room except matting upon the floor. There is not a table, chair, bed or any other article of furniturevisible. We had begun to think that we were to pass the night on the floor as we had done in the section houses of Nevada, when an attendant entered the room, bearing cushions, and a second one came with a table, small affairs resembling unpadded foot-rests, braziers with live coals and tiny bronze tea-kettles. The cushions were piled into soft heaps about fourteen inches high, the tables placed between, and we were motioned to a seat upon the cushions. To the right and left were placed box-like trays and in these our food was served in dainty bowls and dishes. At 9 o’clock, when I thought it time to retire, I clapped my hands for a servant. To the girl who answered I made known my wishes and she called two assistants, who appeared, each bringing a pair of padded comforters. The comforters were spread upon the matting in layers, and at the head of each was placed the Japanese substitute for a pillow, a box six inches square by twelve inches long, the upper edge slightly padded. We passed a most comfortable night, and awakened only by the maid entering our room with a tea set. After breakfast we called for our bill and the amount rendered was two yen, or one dollar in gold. Bed, bath, breakfast and supper, unequaled service and every attention in a first-class inn to be had at the rate of sixty cents a day! By 9 o’clock we were again on the road with Fujiyama looming up thirty miles away. From the guide, who had previously given us instructions, we knew which course to take, and so turned up the fork apparently leading to the very root of the mountain. We did not stop at Yamanaka village, but rode through the main streets, astounding the natives and passing from their view, before they realized what had happened, except that something unseen or unheard of before in Yamanaka had passed their way. From Yamanaka to Yoshida our path was over level, smooth roads, but in the latter place we were compelled to stop and consult our guide-books and the police. At the police station, before we were given any information, our passports were demanded. I produced mine, but Mrs. McIlrath had left hers, the most necessary of her effects, behind. The officer looked over my papers and then pointed to my wife. The passports had been made separately at our request, and of course mine made no mention of Mrs. McIlrath. To gain time and collect my wits I took the paper from the officer’s hands and glanced over the copy attached, which was written in English. An idea “struck” me. My name was “parted in the middle;” why not give my wife half of it? Calling the attention of the official to the English copy, I pointed to “H. Darwin,” and then to my wife. Then laying my finger upon the name “McIlrath,” I patted myself on the chest. The official referred to the Japanese copy, I repeated the pantomime, he smiled and bowed, and making a few mystic characters upon the passport, he altered it to read, “H. Darwin, female, and McIlrath, male.”
CHAPTER VI.JAPAN’S QUEER CREDIT SYSTEM—INTER OCEAN TOURISTS AT THE BURIAL OF PRINCE KITASHIRAKAWA—A POINT FOR ALL AMERICANS.
JAPAN’S QUEER CREDIT SYSTEM—INTER OCEAN TOURISTS AT THE BURIAL OF PRINCE KITASHIRAKAWA—A POINT FOR ALL AMERICANS.
JAPAN’S QUEER CREDIT SYSTEM—INTER OCEAN TOURISTS AT THE BURIAL OF PRINCE KITASHIRAKAWA—A POINT FOR ALL AMERICANS.
The Club Hotel, which is the headquarters for American tourists and residents, is situated only a block from the pier and adjacent to the Consulates, shops and points of interest. The owners and managers are Europeans, or “foreigners” as they are called in Japan, but the service of the hotel is exclusively by natives. Your room is cared for by a “boy,” your meals served by a “boy” and “boys,” sometimes 50 years of age, perform every possible service. There are without doubt more courtesies shown a guest in Japan than in any other country. Our reception in the city was all that we could ask. The letter to Col. McIvor, American Consul, from friends at his home in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, made us thrice welcome at that gentleman’s residence. The fact of our representing an American newspaper made us at home in newspaper circles, which are controlled largely by Americans. Our coming had been heralded to the wheelmen of Japan, and as we were expected some weeks before we arrived, the coming was of more than ordinary interest.Bicycling, at the time of my visit, was just beginning to become popular in Japan, and what machines were used were imported at great cost from the States and Europe. But with commendable enterprise the manufacturers of Japan now perfect their own machines, all parts of which are made and assembled in local concerns, operated by local capital and mechanics. In Japan it is not expected that cash will be tendered for anything purchased or rented, with perhaps the exception of “rickshas,” which correspond in their common use to thecabs of American cities, only that they are drawn by “boys” instead of horses. There is an abominable system of credit established in the empire by which all foreigners purchase and temporarily pay for all articles upon bits of memorandum called “chits.” If a gentleman in Yokohama wishes a drink, a cigar, new hat or even a suit of clothes, he steps into the nearest place of business adapted to filling his requirements and, after making his purchase, signs a bit of paper, giving date, price and buyer’s name and address, and the first of every month the “chit” is sent him as a receipt bill. To a well-appearing foreigner reasonable credit will be extended without question. My knowledge of this system was derived in the most peculiar manner. Mrs. McIlrath and I were touring the shops, when her attention was attracted by a shawl. She entered the shop, priced the article and I advised the purchase, but our pocketbook had been left at the hotel, she blushingly informed me. We thanked the shopman for his trouble and promised to return the same evening. The price was six yen, or about three dollars, as quoted by the dealer, and as we started out of the shop he called to us, asking if the price was too much. I explained our embarrassedcondition, and he immediately wrapped up the shawl, placing one of the printed slips upon the counter, asked me to sign a “chit” for five yen. I was an entire stranger, yet upon credit I obtained for one yen less that which I could not purchase for cash. The most astonishing fact connected with this extraordinary system is that no laws are provided to punish dead-beats or frauds.On Monday, Nov. 11, we journeyed over to Tokio, eighteen miles distant, to witness the funeral ceremonies over the body of His Imperial Highness Prince Kitashirakawa, a commander of the Imperial Guard. In tropical Formosa, under a fierce sun and amid miasmatic jungle, the prince died of malarial fever Oct. 29. The sad news reached Japan shortly after our arrival, but by a curious custom, was not announced to the people as authentic or an accepted fact until officially given out by the imperial authorities on Nov. 5. In fact the Prince officially lived until that time. News of his victories in Formosa brought forth new honors and distinctions, and upon Nov. 2, he, or rather the corpse, was decorated with the Collar of the Chrysanthemum and Grand Cordon of the Imperial Family. The service was simple, yet impressive, without a shade of paganism or superstition. There was much about it also that would befit countries, considering themselves superior to Japan to imitate. One most noticeable was the order of the assembled masses. Not a person offered to step outside of the prescribed limit. There was no jamming or crowding. No voices spoke louderthana whisper, and the presence of police and militia was necessary only as an exhibition of official dignity. Where housesof greater height than one story faced on the line of march, or porches existed above the elevation of the street, the curtains at windows and doors were closely drawn, and the occupants stood in the street. No yelling, gesticulating mob filled the telegraph and telephone poles and roofs, for it is not permissible in Japan that anyone look down upon the funeral of a dignitary. The passage of the Emperor through the streets calls into effect the same condition. He may be viewed from an equal level, but never looked down upon from an elevation.TRYING FOR INFORMATION ON THE ROAD.—SEE PAGE 36.TRYING FOR INFORMATION ON THE ROAD.—SEE PAGE36.I am glad to record that it is a mistaken impression that there exists in Japan a general feeling against Europeans and Americans. In any part of the Mikado’s realm the American is as safe as at home and the European is comparatively as secure. Why is this distinction of a degree made? During the late chastisement which Japan administered to China the action was so one-sided that it could scarcely be called war. As soon as the Russians interfered, threats were made by a few anarchistic extremists in Yokohama, Tokio and other large cities, against the “white man” and his property. The simple minds of the rabble of oriental nations do not regard the English, French, Russian and German subjects as belonging to distinctive nations, but classify them as the “white man.” The ministers and consuls at Tokio, during this excitement, were brought under guard to Yokohama. Their residences were guarded by police, and when any of these gentlemen drove out in carriages, they were surrounded by detectives, who were compelled to use force for the passages of theirvehiclesthrough the streets. Not an act of violence occurred which reflected upon the local government in the slightest degree, but the satisfactory ending of threatened murder and riot was due entirely to the vigilance of the secret service department. Upon the other hand, when the United States Consul drove out there was no necessity of a guard. A sight of the peerless colors of the United States emblazoned on the carriage door, or the unmistakable uniform of the driver, and the sea of humanity which filled the street would part, and with bows and cheers, allow our representative to go his way. Policemen and officers saluted with caps in hand, while perhaps only a half square away the guard of one of the other consuls struggled fiercely with an unyielding mob. That is the reason I say an American is as safe from personal interference in any part of Japan as in the heart of any of our great cities. An Englishman is, in fact, moresecurehere than he would be in any of the acquired provinces of Great Britain.The short rides of the Inter Ocean cyclists, taken in and about Yokohama, Kanagarua, Mississippi Bay and Tokio, demonstrated to us the truth that the Japanese have not only respect, but love for the Yankee. The roads of Japan compare favorably with the boulevards ofAmerican cities, except in matter of width. They are smooth, hard and upon the sea coast quite level. One of the finest courses I have ridden over is a six-mile run we took daily before breakfast in Yokohama. The course begins at the Club Hotel, along the Bund to the Yalo Bashi, following this to the Haz-Aso-No Bashi and from there to Mississippi Bay, the Bluffs and back to the hotel.The Inter Ocean tourists left Yokohama Monday, Nov. 18, having secured new passports for the interior, where the treaty laws do not extend protection or privileges to the foreigner. Our destination was unknown even to ourselves, but as we were astride our wheels it mattered little where we wound up, so long as interesting scenery and incidences were daily occurrences. One point, in main, was to form the center of a circle around which we intended to swing, and that center was Fujiyama, the sacred mountain. To reach the lower slopes of Fuji there are many pathways, but for cyclists there is but one that may be practicably adopted, and that by way of Gotenba, Yamanka and Yoshida, “the route of temples,” the course traveled by the native pilgrims to Fuji in summer months. We took a southwesterly direction from Yokohama and came to a well ballasted wagon road, running almost parallel with the railroad, connecting Tokio with Kobe, 400 miles south. We passed through the villages of Fujisawa, Hiratsuka and Oisa, crossing the River Vanugawa, and entering Kodsu, a village of large proportions, at noon. Kodsu is about thirty miles from Yokohama, and it was here we had hoped to eat our lunch and find drinking water in which we could place confidence. The one drawback to tourists in the interior of Japan is water. In their natural condition the waters are pure, cool streams, coursing down snow-clad mountains, miles in the interior, but passing through the villages, their course is diverted into ditches and water-boxes, running through the gutters and sometimes under the houses of the town. The sewerage of surface drains empties into these streams. Cooking utensils and food are washed, fish are cleaned and even dogs drink from and bathe in these gutters. The same system of water supply exists in all of Japan, and after we had struck Kodsu, Mrs. McIlrath and I drank only native-made beer during our stay in the land of the Mikado.At 1 o’clock we were again on the road, keeping with the railroad tracks until we passed through Sakawagawa. Little was to be seen but rice and vegetable fields, the mountains in the distance and the swift rushing river coursing to the sea. We covered 72 miles by 7 o’clock, arriving at Gotenba, where we spent our first night in a Japanese yadoyo, or inn. In a Japanese sleeping apartment there is nothing to be seen as one enters the room except matting upon the floor. There is not a table, chair, bed or any other article of furniturevisible. We had begun to think that we were to pass the night on the floor as we had done in the section houses of Nevada, when an attendant entered the room, bearing cushions, and a second one came with a table, small affairs resembling unpadded foot-rests, braziers with live coals and tiny bronze tea-kettles. The cushions were piled into soft heaps about fourteen inches high, the tables placed between, and we were motioned to a seat upon the cushions. To the right and left were placed box-like trays and in these our food was served in dainty bowls and dishes. At 9 o’clock, when I thought it time to retire, I clapped my hands for a servant. To the girl who answered I made known my wishes and she called two assistants, who appeared, each bringing a pair of padded comforters. The comforters were spread upon the matting in layers, and at the head of each was placed the Japanese substitute for a pillow, a box six inches square by twelve inches long, the upper edge slightly padded. We passed a most comfortable night, and awakened only by the maid entering our room with a tea set. After breakfast we called for our bill and the amount rendered was two yen, or one dollar in gold. Bed, bath, breakfast and supper, unequaled service and every attention in a first-class inn to be had at the rate of sixty cents a day! By 9 o’clock we were again on the road with Fujiyama looming up thirty miles away. From the guide, who had previously given us instructions, we knew which course to take, and so turned up the fork apparently leading to the very root of the mountain. We did not stop at Yamanaka village, but rode through the main streets, astounding the natives and passing from their view, before they realized what had happened, except that something unseen or unheard of before in Yamanaka had passed their way. From Yamanaka to Yoshida our path was over level, smooth roads, but in the latter place we were compelled to stop and consult our guide-books and the police. At the police station, before we were given any information, our passports were demanded. I produced mine, but Mrs. McIlrath had left hers, the most necessary of her effects, behind. The officer looked over my papers and then pointed to my wife. The passports had been made separately at our request, and of course mine made no mention of Mrs. McIlrath. To gain time and collect my wits I took the paper from the officer’s hands and glanced over the copy attached, which was written in English. An idea “struck” me. My name was “parted in the middle;” why not give my wife half of it? Calling the attention of the official to the English copy, I pointed to “H. Darwin,” and then to my wife. Then laying my finger upon the name “McIlrath,” I patted myself on the chest. The official referred to the Japanese copy, I repeated the pantomime, he smiled and bowed, and making a few mystic characters upon the passport, he altered it to read, “H. Darwin, female, and McIlrath, male.”
The Club Hotel, which is the headquarters for American tourists and residents, is situated only a block from the pier and adjacent to the Consulates, shops and points of interest. The owners and managers are Europeans, or “foreigners” as they are called in Japan, but the service of the hotel is exclusively by natives. Your room is cared for by a “boy,” your meals served by a “boy” and “boys,” sometimes 50 years of age, perform every possible service. There are without doubt more courtesies shown a guest in Japan than in any other country. Our reception in the city was all that we could ask. The letter to Col. McIvor, American Consul, from friends at his home in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, made us thrice welcome at that gentleman’s residence. The fact of our representing an American newspaper made us at home in newspaper circles, which are controlled largely by Americans. Our coming had been heralded to the wheelmen of Japan, and as we were expected some weeks before we arrived, the coming was of more than ordinary interest.
Bicycling, at the time of my visit, was just beginning to become popular in Japan, and what machines were used were imported at great cost from the States and Europe. But with commendable enterprise the manufacturers of Japan now perfect their own machines, all parts of which are made and assembled in local concerns, operated by local capital and mechanics. In Japan it is not expected that cash will be tendered for anything purchased or rented, with perhaps the exception of “rickshas,” which correspond in their common use to thecabs of American cities, only that they are drawn by “boys” instead of horses. There is an abominable system of credit established in the empire by which all foreigners purchase and temporarily pay for all articles upon bits of memorandum called “chits.” If a gentleman in Yokohama wishes a drink, a cigar, new hat or even a suit of clothes, he steps into the nearest place of business adapted to filling his requirements and, after making his purchase, signs a bit of paper, giving date, price and buyer’s name and address, and the first of every month the “chit” is sent him as a receipt bill. To a well-appearing foreigner reasonable credit will be extended without question. My knowledge of this system was derived in the most peculiar manner. Mrs. McIlrath and I were touring the shops, when her attention was attracted by a shawl. She entered the shop, priced the article and I advised the purchase, but our pocketbook had been left at the hotel, she blushingly informed me. We thanked the shopman for his trouble and promised to return the same evening. The price was six yen, or about three dollars, as quoted by the dealer, and as we started out of the shop he called to us, asking if the price was too much. I explained our embarrassedcondition, and he immediately wrapped up the shawl, placing one of the printed slips upon the counter, asked me to sign a “chit” for five yen. I was an entire stranger, yet upon credit I obtained for one yen less that which I could not purchase for cash. The most astonishing fact connected with this extraordinary system is that no laws are provided to punish dead-beats or frauds.
On Monday, Nov. 11, we journeyed over to Tokio, eighteen miles distant, to witness the funeral ceremonies over the body of His Imperial Highness Prince Kitashirakawa, a commander of the Imperial Guard. In tropical Formosa, under a fierce sun and amid miasmatic jungle, the prince died of malarial fever Oct. 29. The sad news reached Japan shortly after our arrival, but by a curious custom, was not announced to the people as authentic or an accepted fact until officially given out by the imperial authorities on Nov. 5. In fact the Prince officially lived until that time. News of his victories in Formosa brought forth new honors and distinctions, and upon Nov. 2, he, or rather the corpse, was decorated with the Collar of the Chrysanthemum and Grand Cordon of the Imperial Family. The service was simple, yet impressive, without a shade of paganism or superstition. There was much about it also that would befit countries, considering themselves superior to Japan to imitate. One most noticeable was the order of the assembled masses. Not a person offered to step outside of the prescribed limit. There was no jamming or crowding. No voices spoke louderthana whisper, and the presence of police and militia was necessary only as an exhibition of official dignity. Where housesof greater height than one story faced on the line of march, or porches existed above the elevation of the street, the curtains at windows and doors were closely drawn, and the occupants stood in the street. No yelling, gesticulating mob filled the telegraph and telephone poles and roofs, for it is not permissible in Japan that anyone look down upon the funeral of a dignitary. The passage of the Emperor through the streets calls into effect the same condition. He may be viewed from an equal level, but never looked down upon from an elevation.
TRYING FOR INFORMATION ON THE ROAD.—SEE PAGE 36.TRYING FOR INFORMATION ON THE ROAD.—SEE PAGE36.
TRYING FOR INFORMATION ON THE ROAD.—SEE PAGE36.
I am glad to record that it is a mistaken impression that there exists in Japan a general feeling against Europeans and Americans. In any part of the Mikado’s realm the American is as safe as at home and the European is comparatively as secure. Why is this distinction of a degree made? During the late chastisement which Japan administered to China the action was so one-sided that it could scarcely be called war. As soon as the Russians interfered, threats were made by a few anarchistic extremists in Yokohama, Tokio and other large cities, against the “white man” and his property. The simple minds of the rabble of oriental nations do not regard the English, French, Russian and German subjects as belonging to distinctive nations, but classify them as the “white man.” The ministers and consuls at Tokio, during this excitement, were brought under guard to Yokohama. Their residences were guarded by police, and when any of these gentlemen drove out in carriages, they were surrounded by detectives, who were compelled to use force for the passages of theirvehiclesthrough the streets. Not an act of violence occurred which reflected upon the local government in the slightest degree, but the satisfactory ending of threatened murder and riot was due entirely to the vigilance of the secret service department. Upon the other hand, when the United States Consul drove out there was no necessity of a guard. A sight of the peerless colors of the United States emblazoned on the carriage door, or the unmistakable uniform of the driver, and the sea of humanity which filled the street would part, and with bows and cheers, allow our representative to go his way. Policemen and officers saluted with caps in hand, while perhaps only a half square away the guard of one of the other consuls struggled fiercely with an unyielding mob. That is the reason I say an American is as safe from personal interference in any part of Japan as in the heart of any of our great cities. An Englishman is, in fact, moresecurehere than he would be in any of the acquired provinces of Great Britain.
The short rides of the Inter Ocean cyclists, taken in and about Yokohama, Kanagarua, Mississippi Bay and Tokio, demonstrated to us the truth that the Japanese have not only respect, but love for the Yankee. The roads of Japan compare favorably with the boulevards ofAmerican cities, except in matter of width. They are smooth, hard and upon the sea coast quite level. One of the finest courses I have ridden over is a six-mile run we took daily before breakfast in Yokohama. The course begins at the Club Hotel, along the Bund to the Yalo Bashi, following this to the Haz-Aso-No Bashi and from there to Mississippi Bay, the Bluffs and back to the hotel.
The Inter Ocean tourists left Yokohama Monday, Nov. 18, having secured new passports for the interior, where the treaty laws do not extend protection or privileges to the foreigner. Our destination was unknown even to ourselves, but as we were astride our wheels it mattered little where we wound up, so long as interesting scenery and incidences were daily occurrences. One point, in main, was to form the center of a circle around which we intended to swing, and that center was Fujiyama, the sacred mountain. To reach the lower slopes of Fuji there are many pathways, but for cyclists there is but one that may be practicably adopted, and that by way of Gotenba, Yamanka and Yoshida, “the route of temples,” the course traveled by the native pilgrims to Fuji in summer months. We took a southwesterly direction from Yokohama and came to a well ballasted wagon road, running almost parallel with the railroad, connecting Tokio with Kobe, 400 miles south. We passed through the villages of Fujisawa, Hiratsuka and Oisa, crossing the River Vanugawa, and entering Kodsu, a village of large proportions, at noon. Kodsu is about thirty miles from Yokohama, and it was here we had hoped to eat our lunch and find drinking water in which we could place confidence. The one drawback to tourists in the interior of Japan is water. In their natural condition the waters are pure, cool streams, coursing down snow-clad mountains, miles in the interior, but passing through the villages, their course is diverted into ditches and water-boxes, running through the gutters and sometimes under the houses of the town. The sewerage of surface drains empties into these streams. Cooking utensils and food are washed, fish are cleaned and even dogs drink from and bathe in these gutters. The same system of water supply exists in all of Japan, and after we had struck Kodsu, Mrs. McIlrath and I drank only native-made beer during our stay in the land of the Mikado.
At 1 o’clock we were again on the road, keeping with the railroad tracks until we passed through Sakawagawa. Little was to be seen but rice and vegetable fields, the mountains in the distance and the swift rushing river coursing to the sea. We covered 72 miles by 7 o’clock, arriving at Gotenba, where we spent our first night in a Japanese yadoyo, or inn. In a Japanese sleeping apartment there is nothing to be seen as one enters the room except matting upon the floor. There is not a table, chair, bed or any other article of furniturevisible. We had begun to think that we were to pass the night on the floor as we had done in the section houses of Nevada, when an attendant entered the room, bearing cushions, and a second one came with a table, small affairs resembling unpadded foot-rests, braziers with live coals and tiny bronze tea-kettles. The cushions were piled into soft heaps about fourteen inches high, the tables placed between, and we were motioned to a seat upon the cushions. To the right and left were placed box-like trays and in these our food was served in dainty bowls and dishes. At 9 o’clock, when I thought it time to retire, I clapped my hands for a servant. To the girl who answered I made known my wishes and she called two assistants, who appeared, each bringing a pair of padded comforters. The comforters were spread upon the matting in layers, and at the head of each was placed the Japanese substitute for a pillow, a box six inches square by twelve inches long, the upper edge slightly padded. We passed a most comfortable night, and awakened only by the maid entering our room with a tea set. After breakfast we called for our bill and the amount rendered was two yen, or one dollar in gold. Bed, bath, breakfast and supper, unequaled service and every attention in a first-class inn to be had at the rate of sixty cents a day! By 9 o’clock we were again on the road with Fujiyama looming up thirty miles away. From the guide, who had previously given us instructions, we knew which course to take, and so turned up the fork apparently leading to the very root of the mountain. We did not stop at Yamanaka village, but rode through the main streets, astounding the natives and passing from their view, before they realized what had happened, except that something unseen or unheard of before in Yamanaka had passed their way. From Yamanaka to Yoshida our path was over level, smooth roads, but in the latter place we were compelled to stop and consult our guide-books and the police. At the police station, before we were given any information, our passports were demanded. I produced mine, but Mrs. McIlrath had left hers, the most necessary of her effects, behind. The officer looked over my papers and then pointed to my wife. The passports had been made separately at our request, and of course mine made no mention of Mrs. McIlrath. To gain time and collect my wits I took the paper from the officer’s hands and glanced over the copy attached, which was written in English. An idea “struck” me. My name was “parted in the middle;” why not give my wife half of it? Calling the attention of the official to the English copy, I pointed to “H. Darwin,” and then to my wife. Then laying my finger upon the name “McIlrath,” I patted myself on the chest. The official referred to the Japanese copy, I repeated the pantomime, he smiled and bowed, and making a few mystic characters upon the passport, he altered it to read, “H. Darwin, female, and McIlrath, male.”