"_Kamaimasen, Sayonara!_"--"It little matters; good-bye!" was my reply; and I left him standing there perplexed, looking after me as if I had been a phenomenon.

The j.a.panese in Yezo and the Ainu never on any account travel far at night; and as for going through a forest alone, unprotected, and without knowing the way, they evidently regarded it as something more reprehensible than folly. Two days previously, when in the train, I had noticed that the railway described a curve several miles long, and I knew then that by cutting across I could considerably shorten my way.

When I entered the forest, the sun with its last rays was casting warm tints on the tops of the pine-trees. Everything was still, and only now and then some huge owl, awakened by the noise of my steps from its day's long sleep, would fly away, starting off on its night's peregrinations and depredations. I walked mile after mile, and finally struck the rails again. On a white post I saw a cipher in Chinese characters, which brought me back to the reality that I was still seventeen miles away from Shibetcha. I followed the line of rail as closely as I could, and late at night I reached Shibetcha. I roused the people at the _Marui yadoya_, and, having eaten some salmon and water soup, I retired to my _foutangs_, between which, it is useless to say, I slept well. I had walked forty-two odd miles that day, and it had been a pleasant change from the continuous riding on pack-saddles.

The next day I rode down to the coast to the bay of Akkeshi, about forty-two miles east of Kushiro. The road is very good all the way, and has on each side woods of oak and pine trees. The traffic on it is at present very small, and the only living creatures I saw during the twenty-eight or thirty miles were a beautiful long-tailed red fox and a number of j.a.panese convicts led by a policeman. These were dressed in red trousers and a short red coat made of coa.r.s.e material. They were walking in a row, and they were chained two by two, and, moreover, a long rope joined the chain of each couple to that of the next, so that all couples were tied together. The end of this rope was held by the policeman. Some of them wore large hats entirely covering their face; others wore no hat at all, and had their head shaved in a peculiar manner. They were mostly bare-footed, but a few wore straw sandals. The Government wisely makes use of these convicts in opening roads and other public works, and after their term of punishment is expired, these men almost invariably become fishermen. A great part of the j.a.panese population of Yezo is composed of exiles and ex-convicts; in other words, Yezo is nothing more or less to j.a.pan than what Australia was to England some years ago.

Nearing the coast I pa.s.sed the "Tonden" of Hondemura, a colonial militia farming settlement. A long line of new houses, all exactly alike in shape and size, and built at intervals, stretches on each side of the wide road. Each of these houses is inhabited by a man who has served his time as a soldier, and who has now his family about him, and does work as a farmer in this settlement a.s.signed to him. These "Tondens" were established by the Government, and I believe that the farmer-soldiers give fairly good results in the zeal and industry with which they cultivate the land, and the honesty and morality of their lives. I saw most of them occupied in stubbing up the scrub, and tearing or cutting down the trees, burning the more worthless parts; but it will be some years yet before they have cleared an area of cultivable land sufficiently large for profit, as the country is very thickly wooded in that neighbourhood.

Soon after I had pa.s.sed the settlement, going down a steep hill I came upon a small and dirty semi-Ainu village, and ultimately reached the seash.o.r.e.

The distance from Shibetcha is thirty miles, and the riding was beginning to be unpleasant, owing to the gathering darkness, which made my pony shy at everything it pa.s.sed. At the mouth of the Pehambe Ushi River I had great difficulty in getting my pony on the ferry-boat, which was to take me across the mouth of the lagoon to Akkeshi. Several drunken fishermen came on board, and were disagreeably noisy. One of these fellows had a pony, which he tied to mine when on board. The ferry was to take us across the entrance of the Akkeshi lagoon, and it was more than a quarter of an hour before we reached the opposite sh.o.r.e.

When we were still nearly twenty feet from _terra firma_, my pony, frightened at the cries of the drunken crowd, jumped overboard, carrying with him his companion steed. The sudden shock and lurch of the boat knocked down everybody on board, and nearly capsized us. As it was we shipped a lot of water. The ponies found the water deeper than they expected, and they had to swim for it. Having landed before he came ash.o.r.e, I recaptured mine, gave him a sound thrashing, and rode on to Akkeshi, a few hundred yards from the landing-place. Akkeshi lies at the north-east side of the large bay which goes by the same name, and which, by the way, is probably one of the best anchorages on the south coast of Yezo. The mouth of the bay is to the southward; it extends seven miles in a northerly direction, and is about six miles wide in its widest part. The bay is prolonged further inland by a large lagoon, called Se-Cherippe, which contains many shoals and low islands, near which are beds of oysters of enormous size, the sh.e.l.ls of some measuring as much as eighteen inches in length. The Koro-pok-kuru, by whom this district was formerly thickly populated, seem to have relished this diet, as we find thick beds of discarded sh.e.l.ls on the top of some of the lower hills, and in many places, especially in the vicinity of pits. These sh.e.l.l heaps are similar to those found on the main island of Nippon, and attributed to the Ainu. (_See_ Chapter IX.)

The country round the bay and the lagoon forms a high land or plateau between two hundred and three hundred feet above the level of the sea, and the higher ground is thickly wooded, thus supplying Akkeshi with abundance of timber, mostly of evergreen trees, as Todo and Yezo-matzu, two spruces common in other parts of Yezo as well. With its good harbour, its large export of oysters, salmon, herrings, fish-manure, and seaweed, besides its seal-fishery and the quant.i.ty of good timber easily cut and transported down the lagoon and across the bay for shipment, it is not surprising that Akkeshi has become, after Hakodate, the most important centre on the southern coast. It is nearly half as large again as Kushiro, and has as many as nine hundred j.a.panese houses, besides sixty or seventy Ainu huts.

The Ainu were formerly extremely numerous in this district; but few of them are left now, and those few are indeed poor specimens of their race. They have nearly all become bald, and they seem to suffer very severely from rheumatism. Thick fogs are very prevalent along the coast, and it is but seldom that one can obtain a view of the whole bay. These fogs naturally render navigation unsafe, and are one of the great drawbacks to the prosperity of the place. However, our good Londoners could tell us that greater evils than fogs can exist. I have no doubt that at some future date we shall hear of Akkeshi as being the most important port in Yezo, when a railway to join it to Shibetcha shall have been constructed. The sulphur of Mount Yuzan will probably then be taken direct to this place instead of Kushiro, owing to the safety of its harbour, an advantage which Kushiro does not possess. The Akkeshi Bay is also interesting from a picturesque point of view, when fogs give one a chance of seeing the surrounding scenery. Some fine headlands are found near the town of Akkeshi, and also on each side of the opening of the bay into the ocean. On the eastern side, the two islands of Daikuku and Kodaikuku, joined to the mainland by the low reef, slightly under water-level, which goes round the bay, are of some importance for an artist. This is especially true of the larger island of Daikuku, which rises at a considerable height above the sea, forming majestic cliffs, beautiful in shape and colour, on which myriads of seagulls, albatrosses, and penguins have chosen their abode, finding in these almost untrodden and picturesque cliffs a safe place in which to lay their eggs and rear their young. Here they live undisturbed, save for the dashing waves of the ocean, which make the earth tremble and the rock crumble to pieces, but only meet with a blithesome welcome from the screaming, light-hearted, fat, and lazy-winged inhabitants, to whom those waves bring good stores of daily food.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AKKESHI IN A FOG.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: AINU MAN AND WOMAN ON HORSEBACK.]

CHAPTER XI.

From Akkeshi to Nemuro--A Horse Station--Nemuro and its People.

The road in the proximity of Akkeshi was extremely muddy and slippery, owing to the continuous fogs and rain. A north wind was blowing hard the day I left for Kiritap, and it drove the mist and drizzly rain right through one's skin into one's bones. The fogs, which are prevalent all along the coast, seem to excel between Akkeshi and Kiritap; so much so that the j.a.panese in the neighbourhood make them answerable for their baldness, and the local Ainu say they are so scantily hirsute because of the everlasting dampness in which they live. They clinch their argument by reminding you that when their forefathers came to this part of the coast they were as hairy as the bear, so what can have caused their own comparative smoothness but these everlasting fogs? I believe that to a great extent they are right, for when, after a day's wet ride, I have sat near a fire even for some hours, I have felt as if my skin were soaking with wet--as if I had been too long in a bath--and neither rubbing with cotton towels nor the warmth of the fire seemed thoroughly to dry it; and perhaps such an extraordinary dampness, constantly saturating the pores of the skin, may have an injurious effect upon the hair, and cause it to decay and fall off. It was in a thick fog like this that I had to find my way to Riruran, the next horse station, about eight miles further east. The road soon became a mere track, running through an undulating country, chiefly pasture land. As luck would have it, I had hired a pony which belonged to the Riruran station, and the beast was as anxious to get there as I was. He knew the way and I did not, so I let him guide me. Now and then, when the wind blew with increased strength, the fog lifted for a few minutes, and disclosed some pretty bits of landscape. The country all around was gra.s.sy, with the familiar densely-wooded hills in the background. It somewhat resembled the slopes and high lands of Cornwall, without, however, the herds of sheep and cattle, which in our country are connected with green fields; without the trim fences and stiles, the ploughed fields and meadows, the trim hedges and park-like trees, the bye-lanes and well-kept roads.

Hill after hill was ascended and descended, the st.u.r.dy little pony going well towards his former home; but as yet I had come on no signs of any living creature. No labourers are here to work and plough the dark rich soil. Potato fields; cottages with their plots of vegetable grounds; cows and sheep scattered over the green pastures--all signs of vigorous and successful husbandry--are things that an intending traveller to Yezo will miss. Everywhere are solitude and monotony. Still, even solitude and monotony are not always to be abhorred, and if they have their drawbacks they also have their advantages. You can go undisturbed for mile after mile; you can think; you can dream; you can sing; you can keep to the track or go across country; you can go fast or slow, and there is no one to object, to obstruct, or to comment. You breathe air that no one has breathed before, and you quench your thirst in a limpid stream unpolluted by sewage, chemical refuse, or poisonous dye-stuffs.

You lead a simple life, and, what is more, an independent life. Many a time, when I woke up to the real state of my new condition, I could not help laughing at our civilised conceptions of what const.i.tutes a free man in a free country, viz. that he can have a voice in choosing which of two men shall be sent as a member to Parliament.

Absorbed, now in my own thoughts on many subjects, and now in gazing at the monotonous scenes, which, as if reflected from a magic-lantern, suddenly appeared and as suddenly faded away, I had not seen how far my pony had hurried on, when, rapidly descending a steep hill, I discerned through the grey fog a solitary shed in the small valley below. The neighing of my steed, responded to by the neighing of his compatriots in the valley, told me that I had reached the horse station of Riruran, and a few minutes later my baggage and pack-saddle were removed from my steaming quadruped, and a fresh animal was burdened with my possessions.

These horse stations generally consist of one shed, in which the owner and his family live; near it is a rough enclosure formed of branches and trunks of trees laid down horizontally, and strengthened at intervals by poles stuck in the ground. The ponies are kept in this enclosure during the day, but are let loose at sunset, when they go for their food wherever they can get it--generally on the near hills. Early in the morning one or two Ainu employed in the stations start off to recapture the ponies, and after a struggle bring back the herd to the paddock. My readers, who may not be well acquainted with the habits of semi-wild horses, will wonder that the ponies, once free in an unenclosed country, do not bolt away altogether inland, thus making it impossible to recapture them; and, moreover, these readers will think what a difficult task it must be for the Ainu hors.e.m.e.n to recover all the ponies, each one of which, they probably imagine, has bolted in an independent and different direction. This is not the case. When a herd of ponies is let loose they invariably all go together in one direction, generally following those of the older animals which have bells hanging to their necks. When they come to a proper feeding-ground they all graze within a few yards of one another; and the chances are that the herd will not go a step further than is necessary, as they are terribly afraid of bears, their most dreaded enemy, by which they well know the more distant hills are infested. When their hunger is satisfied they shoulder up together and form a circle, in the centre of which the young colts are placed, these being thus well protected from bears, who would find a st.u.r.dy resistance in the hind hoofs of the outstanding guard should they come to close quarters. The Ainu are good trackers, and have little difficulty in finding in which direction the herd has moved. When this preliminary is ascertained, the horseman, mounted on a swift pony, which he has taken good care to keep behind, starts from the station about an hour before sunrise, so as to allow himself ample time to reach the herd before the sun is up. He finds the ponies in this circular position of defence. With a long stick he breaks their ranks, and by shouting, and wildly galloping to and fro, drives them on in front till the station and the pen are reached. When they have all entered the latter, a heavy wooden bar is rested on two biforked poles, one on each side of the entrance, thus barring their way out; and there they are kept all day, waiting for such native travellers or traders as may require their services along the coast.

Most of the stations are owned by j.a.panese and by Ainu half-castes. Some have large numbers of ponies; some only a few, according to the wants of the neighbourhood.

The average market value of a beast is between five and ten _yen_, or about fifteen to thirty shillings in English currency.

At stations where the ponies are but little worked, good animals can sometimes be obtained for a small sum of money; but at stations near large settlements--where trade with other villages is carried on entirely by pack-ponies--they are mostly sorry beasts, with their backs one ma.s.s of sores, produced by the friction of the rough pack-saddles.

Moreover, the cruel habit of letting colts follow mares for long distances--sometimes forty or fifty miles--is as painful a sight to witness as it is injurious to the breed. The Yezo ponies are characterised by their long hair and mane. They are short, st.u.r.dy, punchy brutes, not more than ten or twelve hands high, with a rather large and ma.s.sive head, and thick, crooked legs. They are by no means fine-looking animals, nor are they well groomed--in fact, they are not groomed at all--but they serve capitally for the rough tracks and precipitous wastes of Hokkaido. They have none of the good qualities we require in our horses, but they possess others which fit them for the country they are in. Their enormous power of endurance, and the wonderful way in which they can go over the steepest tracks--almost unclimbable on foot; their sure step when going along precipices; and the marvellous manner in which they pick their way over rocky coasts, which the waves would seem to make impa.s.sable, and where none of our good horses could go without breaking their legs, are all endowments which I feel bound to quote in honour of the Yezo ponies. They are not shod, and they can hardly be called trained. Indeed, if a traveller be a good rider, it is advisable to obtain a perfectly unbroken animal, as from my own personal experience I can say that, though the riding was a little more exciting, I could invariably make better time with a totally unbroken beast, than with one of the worn-out, sore-backed "quiet ponies," which needed any amount of thrashing to make him go.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AINU BITS.]

A curious method is adopted for directing the animal. It is as simple as it is ingenious. The necessary "bit" by which we control our horses is dispensed with, and it is replaced by two wooden wands about twelve inches long and two inches wide, tied together at one end, allowing a distance of three inches between them. In the middle of these wands a rope is pa.s.sed which goes over the pony's head behind its ears; while the wands themselves, thus supported by it, rest one on each side of the pony's nose. Another rope, five or six feet in length, and acting as a rein, is fastened at the lower end of one of the wands, and pa.s.ses through a hole in the other, thus allowing this simple contrivance, based on the lever principle, to be worked exactly in the same way as a nut-cracker, the pony's nose being the nut. The disadvantage of the system is, that having only one rein, this has to be pa.s.sed over the pony's head each time one wishes to turn to the right or to the left, as by pulling the rope hard, and thus squeezing the animal's nose, its head is turned in the direction in which it is pulled, and it is soon taught that this is the way it must go. Furthermore, should the pony bolt, it can be stopped by pulling its head close to its haunches, thereby making it impossible to continue its race. In the latter case it often happens, especially with an untrained pony, that it will spin round, trying to stretch its twisted neck by pushing its head away from the side of its body, and the result is generally a bad fall of horse and rider.

Another thing of which one ought to be careful is to keep one's legs out of the reach of the brute's teeth; for it is not infrequent that instead of the man punishing the animal, the animal revenges itself on the man; and the incautious traveller realises Sydney Smith's position, and finds that to a Yezo pony, as well as to an English cart-horse, "all flesh is gra.s.s."

From Riruran, for about fifteen miles, the way is merely a mountain track; and I dare say that in fine weather the scenery along it is picturesque. Unfortunately, when I went through, the fog had become more and more intense, and I saw very little of the landscape. At places the track led down to the sea, and then mounted up again over cliffs and high lands. As the mist, which came in gusts and waves, deepened or lightened in intensity, the rugged precipitous rocks, formed mostly of conglomerate, sandstone, and breccia, took all sorts of fantastic forms.

Along the coast were many Ainu huts inhabited by half-castes and by j.a.panese. The Ainu were once very numerous in this district, but few of them are to be found now. The few remaining ones have yielded to the more civilised j.a.panese, and have become their servants. They are used as menials in most of the fishing stations, always acting under the directions of j.a.panese masters. Very frequently they are employed as tenders of horses, and in some places as guides for traders and travellers from one station to another.

Not far from Riruran the mouths of two lagoons have to be crossed, the larger of which is called Saruffo-Ko, or "Lake in a gra.s.sy plain."

Cranes, swans, and ducks are numerous in these lagoons.

The track continues mostly over cliffs and mountains till Birvase, a small village of seaweed gatherers, is reached, and the next two and a half miles are along a sandy beach as far as Hammanaka. A short bridge joins this place to the island of Kiritap, which is separated from the mainland by a channel only a few feet wide. Towards the evening the fog lifted, and I caught a glimpse of the village.

The ponies of the Kiritap village had just been let loose, and were running over the small wooden bridge with great clamour. The houses, which number about a hundred and twenty, are all poor and dirty. There is a main street, and most of the houses are on each side of it. The people are fishermen, seaweed gatherers, and small traders; for Hammanaka Bay, being a good anchorage for junks and small craft under the lee of Kiritap Island, is a place of some importance for its export trade of seaweeds, fish-oil, and herring guano; these products being sent down to Hakodate.

If a few Ainu have adopted the j.a.panese language, clothes, and customs, there are also many j.a.panese who have taken up the Ainu language and ways. I noticed this more particularly in this district, where the Ainu have almost entirely disappeared. The older j.a.panese and many of the younger folks have Ainu features; and not only have they adopted a great number of Ainu words, but when talking j.a.panese they speak it with the peculiar intonation and accent pertaining to the Ainu. This is not surprising, nor yet peculiar to the j.a.panese or the Chinese; for we find that almost all English residents in Chinese ports adopt many of the words of our pig-tailed brothers, and have thus formed a kind of local English, besides the "pidgeon-English"--a corruption of "business English"--which almost const.i.tutes a language of its own.

The Ainu, like the Scotch or the French, give a rolling sound to the "r." Thus, for instance, if I had written the word "Riruran" as it is p.r.o.nounced I should have spelt it "Rrirrurran." Then the Ainu almost sing their words--the women in a falsetto voice, ending in a singularly mournful kind of cadenza. On his return from a journey, a hunt, or a fishing expedition, the Ainu squats down cross-legged in his hut, and, after the conventional introductory ceremony of rubbing the palms of his hands together and then repeatedly stroking his hair and beard, proceeds to relate the adventures that have befallen him during his absence.

This he does by singing out his story in a sort of monotone, or sometimes chanting it. When conversing with j.a.panese the Ainu have slightly modified this habit, which gave rise to much mirth to the light-hearted sons of the Mikado's empire. However, like all people who are ready to laugh at everything novel, the local j.a.panese have now themselves fallen into that same manner of speaking, which, after all, has its charms, as it is rather sentimental in spirit, and so far pleasant to the ear. What is more, they have also acquired the slow ways of the Ainu.

All along the beach between Hammanaka and Hattaushi, a distance of nearly twenty miles, there are fishermen's and seaweed gatherers' huts; but none of them is inhabited by Ainu. Men, women, and children are all occupied in the seaweed gathering industry; and it is when the sea is stormy that the largest quant.i.ty of kelp is collected. The numerous reefs and rocks all along the sh.o.r.e-line afford suitable ground and bottom for its growth and production; and during a stormy sea quant.i.ties of kelp float on the breaking waves, to be finally thrown on sh.o.r.e. The industrious gatherers seldom wait for this "jetsam," as the long weeds, after they are washed off the rock, and before they are finally swept on sh.o.r.e, are apt to be damaged by the waves, and are therefore of less value for the export market than when long and fresh; wherefore, each gatherer provides himself with a long pole or hook, and from morning till night these half-naked "toilers of the sea" can be seen running to and fro in and out of the waves dragging bunches of long ribbon-like seaweeds, which are then carefully disentangled, stretched on the sands to dry, and, after several days of exposure, are packed for the market.

Some huge cliffs towering over the sandy beach make the track interesting; and here and there, scattered in the Hammanaka Bay, are some oyster-banks before reaching the single shed of Hattaushi. The following twelve miles were on an extremely bad track, partly over steep hills and partly on tiresome soft sand. Then I arrived at Otchishi--without exception the loveliest little spot in Yezo. It lies in the centre of a small bay, on the two sides of which are magnificent headlands with precipitous cliffs and rocks of volcanic formation. On a pretty bit of green gra.s.s in the foreground, only a few feet above the sea-level, were a shed and a storehouse. A reef and shallow water closed the entrance of the bay to the foaming waves of the Pacific. In the sheltered water, which was as smooth as a mirror, the dark rich colour of the overhanging rocks, caressed by the last warm rays of the dying sun, was reflected with absolute fidelity and almost increased loveliness. A cold whitish sky, and the _white horses_ breaking on the reef, completed the _ensemble_ of that lovely scene; and it was with great regret, after having attempted a sketch, that I was told my horse was ready, and I had to leave this poetical and exquisite scene.

On the slight elevations near Otchishi, and in the valley, pits are still to be seen, showing that the pit-dwellers were once numerous in this district. They are found both along the coast as well as slightly inland by the side of small rivers, and on the sh.o.r.es of the Saruffu lagoon. A well-kept road begins at Otchishi, and goes on to Nemuro. At first it runs over hilly ground and through an oak-wooded country, then through thick forests of spruce trees, the trees standing very close together. About four miles from Nemuro a military settlement--"Hanasaki"--similar to the one on the Shibetcha-Akkeshi road, has been established by the j.a.panese Government. Here, again, I was struck by the difficulty and the amount of labour involved in clearing the trees off the ground. It will take many years before the industrious farmers will have any return for their hard labour. I do not know what the object of the j.a.panese Government may have been in starting these two militia settlements in spots so unfit for cultivation, but it seems a great pity to see the Tokachi region, which has all the requisites for successful agriculture, quite deserted, while hundreds of men are wasting their strength and time at other places, where it will take several years to open enough ground for even a kitchen-garden.

Past the long row of houses at Hanasaki the road descends gently, and I arrived at Nemuro, a thriving place of about fifteen hundred houses, on the south-west coast of the plateau-like peninsula ending at Cape Noshafu. The general elevation of the plateau is between sixty and one hundred and twenty feet above the sea-level, and the high land is covered with undergrowth and stunted trees, such as scrub bamboo, oak, birch, and alder, the east winds and fogs no doubt preventing the latter from attaining a larger growth. Some low islands and reefs lie north and south off Cape Noshafu, and make navigation very unsafe for the small coasting crafts which sometimes during the summer call at Nemuro for sea-weed, herring, salt, salmon, and herring guano; the first exported chiefly to China, the others to Tokio and Southern j.a.pan. Herrings are caught in large numbers during the spring and summer, and the export of fish-manure would be considerably increased if the harbour at Nemuro could be safely entered by larger ships. As it is now, though well sheltered by the small island of Bentenjima, it can only harbour small ships, as, besides not being deep, its entrance is narrow and of difficult access during the thick fogs of the summer. In the winter and part of the spring the harbour and the coast as far as Noshafu Cape are blocked with drift ice, thus stopping navigation altogether. The trade from the adjoining coast and the Kurile Islands concentrates at this port, and as a farming region the small portion of available land north-west of the town has given fairly good results. Horse-breeding has proved a success for the local wants, but hardly so in producing a fine breed of horses. Cattle-breeding, on the other hand, has been a failure all through, owing to the severe weather in winter, which the imported animals could not stand. In spite of strong easterly winds, heavy fogs, ice, and snow, fair crops of _daikon_, potatoes, turnips, barley, beans, wheat, and hemp are successfully raised here, as the soil is of extremely good quality. As to the town itself, it is prettily laid out, the streets crossing each other at right angles, while some of the houses are built in semi-European style, to meet the severity of the climate. A Shinto temple is erected on the high level; and from this is obtained a fine bird's-eye view of the harbour and town, with the numerous storehouses overlooking the sea.

As I have given a short description of the town--uninteresting save from a commercial point of view--I feel that I owe a few lines to its go-ahead inhabitants. Belonging, nearly all, to a young and adventurous generation, they reminded me of the same type of Englishmen who have abandoned their fatherland and settled in America and Australia, striving, and often succeeding, in making a fortune. Such men are invariably of a different "make" from that of the young fellows who are satisfied to drudge for life in a bank, a merchant's office, or a shop--vegetating rather than living; following their day's routine in a mechanical sort of way; grumbling continually, but never bold enough to attempt any improvement of their position. As one is born an artist, a musician, or a literary man, one has to be born a colonist to be a successful one.

The young j.a.panese whom I met at Nemuro impressed me as being thoroughly different from any I had come across in my one year's stay in Southern j.a.pan; and I was agreeably surprised when I found that I was dealing with a lot of young, clever, and serious men, willing to improve their country and themselves, and anxious to accept any practical hint that would enable them to accomplish this in the shortest time possible. In other words, they had lost the slow, phlegmatic way of transacting business of the "stay-at-homes," and had accepted the quick perception of the true colonist, who is always ready to catch all the chances which will help him to get on in life.

I had been struck with this energy, this go-ahead faculty, several times along the south-west and south-east coasts, when conversing with the j.a.panese with whom I came in contact; but I was never so much impressed as at Nemuro, where, indeed, the men are of a superior cla.s.s, well-educated, and belonging to good families, while most of the j.a.panese at fishing stations along the coast are taken from the sc.u.m of the towns. They are often escaped or ex-convicts, or else people who found it advisable to abandon the livelier sh.o.r.es of Nippon, leaving no trace of themselves rather than end their days in a prison cell.

Nemuro is a progressive place in every way, and had it been built five miles further west it would have been intersected by the Onnetto River--a short outlet of the Onnetto Lagoon, which would have formed a larger and safer harbour than the present Nemuro anchorage. As it is, prosperity showed itself in the usual way, by the number of eating-houses for all cla.s.ses, a theatre, numerous _guechas_--singers and dancers--and a whole street of houses of light morals, in which, behind a wooden grating similar to a huge cage, dozens of girls are shown in their gaudy red and gold embroidered _kimonos_, with elaborate _obis_ round their waist, and expensive long tortoise-sh.e.l.l hairpins artistically surrounding their heads like a halo. There in a line the pretty girls sit for several hours on their heels in front of a _hibachi_--brazier--smoking their diminutive pipes. They are fair game for now the compliments and now the jokes of the crowd promenading up and down the street in the evening. Every now and then, when an admirer approaches the cage, one of the girls gets up, refills her tiny pipe with tobacco, and offers it to him, not forgetting to wipe the mouthpiece with the palm of her hand before so doing. He (the admirer) puffs away, and returns the empty pipe with thanks, shifting on to another cage to have his next smoke. j.a.panese men cannot live without _guechas_, and it follows as a matter of course that Nemuro, being a prosperous place, there are many of them.

A _guecha_ is a singer or dancer (posturing), or both, and one or more generally attend dinner-parties and festivities of any kind. Some sing with self-accompaniment of _shamesen;_ others display their wonderful powers of mimicking and posturising, in which grace is never lacking. A long _kimono_, a carefully-arranged _obi_, and a pretty pair of white _tabi_--short socks with split toes--make up the graceful and simple attire in which they appear in the house. Their hair, plastered down with camelia oil, is a veritable work of art. It is carefully combed, oiled, and flattened behind the ears. A metal fastener at the lowest point of the curve keeps it in this flat position, and it is then raised again and fastened at the back of the head, first in a most elaborate twist, and then rolled up in graceful curves. A pretty, tasteful _kanzashi_--a long hairpin--is placed on the left side of the head, thus completing that part of a _guecha's_ toilette.

The sallow complexion characteristic of the race is despised by the womankind of j.a.pan, and all women are given to "painting" themselves.

With us such a custom is not uncommon, but it is disregarded by most sensible women. In j.a.pan it is part of the ordinary woman's daily toilette. A thick layer of white chalk is first smeared with a soft brush over the face, neck, shoulders, arms, and hands; then the pretty _mouseme_, dipping her first finger in red paint, gently rubs this on her cheeks, her temples, and over the upper eyelids. The middle finger is the "black brush," and adds sentiment to the expression by blackening under the eyes; and sometimes when the eyebrows are not shaved it is also used to accentuate them. A piece of burnt cork is often used as a subst.i.tute for black paint. The fourth finger has no occupation, but the little finger is for finishing touches, brightening up the mouth with carmine, and adding a bit of gold on the lower lip. A _guecha_ paints herself to a much greater extent than other women, and with brighter colours. As to her moral qualities, a _guecha_ is usually not immoral enough to be called "fast," yet too fast to be qualified as "moral."

Their music and posturing have a great charm for j.a.panese; and when money is made, a good quant.i.ty of it goes to keeping up these feminine musicians and their establishments.

To show how enterprising and Americanised the Nemuro people are, I shall ask the reader's forgiveness for again relating a personal experience which at the time greatly amused me.

I was in the midst of my simple j.a.panese dinner in the Jamaruru tea-house, when four youths entered my room and offered to shake hands with me--a most unusual thing with j.a.panese. One of them handed me his card, on which I read, "K. Sato, _Nemuro Shimbun_" (Nemuro newspaper).

"Oh," I said in j.a.panese, "you have even a newspaper at Nemuro."

"Yes," answered in English one of his friends, a Mr. Yuasa, handing me his own card.

"You speak English, then, Mr. Yuasa?"