=February 9.=--A nice quiet morning in bed; after lunch I went with Miss C---- and J---- to see the temple of Kwannon at Akasaka. People who habitually drive in carriages see less of the truly Japanese streets than do the _kuruma_ riders. Most of the old roads are so narrow that a carriage cannot pass, and they must perforce go through the newer or widened streets, where they encounter electric trams and maybe glass-windowed stores for “Foreign Goods.” Not that these latter do not afford amusement--one may see a Store that carries on the “Import and Manufacture of Grocers”--another that sells “Unnecessary Provisions.” Of which latter I may add there are many in Tokio, to wit, the beaded mittens, crochet atrocities, Paisley shawls, etc., _ad infinitum_, that are destroying the beauty and harmony of the national costume, and are making the people ludicrous in their hybrid garb. An irritating little habit the coachman and _Betto_[4] have, is to cry in hoarse duet to every child or old woman (of which not less than several thousand seem to be encountered in a drive) to warn them off the road. It becomes inexpressibly irritating to the unfortunates in the carriage.
I think I have already spoken of the temple, the most popular one in Japan, where incessant crowds are praying or clattering through, or come with aches and pains to lay their hands on the wooden figure that will heal. It is a case of physician heal thyself, for the poor god has all its features rubbed flat by the hands of a sick humanity. The temple is so popular and so certainly described in every book of travel, that I shall not stop to do so. It is situated in the Whitechapel of Tokio, and the stalls and entertainments in the neighbouring grounds are reminiscent in some degree of a Bank Holiday--though noisy behaviour is lacking.
=February 11.=--A national holiday, so that schools, etc. are closed. To-day the Emperor ceremoniously worships his ancestors, attended by practically all the Government head officials, including Professor _M----_, who wears a uniform smothered with gold lace. I went to lunch with Mr. _Mj----_ in his house in Azabu, which is surrounded by a lovely garden, with pines and a pond and regular scenery. The party was composed of foreigners, and we sat at a table 1 foot high, and had a sumptuous Japanese luncheon. His two little girls--aged six and eight, in brilliant true Japanese kimonos--were very gay in entertaining us, pouring out the _saké_ and singing many little songs (“God save the King” among them), and bringing their dolls to table. Not at all shy, and not at all like Japanese children in this, and yet not forward, they were pretty, bright little things.