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Title: The Critic in the Orient
Author: Fitch, George Hamlin, 1852-1925
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

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     The Taj Mahal at
      Agra. This Tomb,
    Built by Shah Jahan
    to Immortalize His
     Favorite Wife, Is
    Conceded to be the
  Most Beautiful Building
       in the World
  "Matchless, perfect in
     form, a miracle
  Of grace and tenderness
      and symmetry,
  Pearl-pure against the
    sapphire of the

                       THE CRITIC
                     IN THE ORIENT

                  GEORGE HAMLIN FITCH

                       AUTHOR OF

           East is East and West is West and
              never the twain shall meet,
           Till Earth and Sky stand presently
             at God's great Judgment Seat.


                 PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY

                   _Copyright, 1913_
               by PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY

                  The chapters of this
            book appeared originally in the
  Sunday supplement of the San Francisco _Chronicle_.
           The privilege of reproducing them
             here is due to the courtesy of
                  M. H. de Young, Esq.

                 The author is greatly
           indebted to Isaac O. Upham, Esq.,
     for the fine photographs which illustrate the
            section on Japan and for several
                 photographs of Indian

                 TO MY FELLOW TOURISTS
                ON THE MINNESOTA, WHOSE
                   AND SEA ENJOYABLE



  Introduction                                                IX

  The Best Results of Travel in the Orient                  XIII

  Japan, The Picture Country of the Orient                     1

  First Impressions of Japan and the Life of the Japanese--
  The Japanese Capital and its Parks and Temples--The
  Most Famous City of Temples in all Japan--In Kyoto,
  The Ancient Capital of Japan--Kobe, Osaka, The Inland
  Sea and Nagasaki--Development of the Japanese Sense of
  Beauty--Conclusions on Japanese Life and Character--
  Will the Japanese Retain Their Good Traits?

  Manila, Transformed by the Americans                        49

  First Impressions of Manila and Its Picturesque People--
  American Work in the Philippine Islands--Scenes in the
  City of Manila and Suburbs.

  Hongkong, Canton, Singapore and Rangoon                     63

  Hongkong, the Greatest British Port in the Orient--A
  Visit to Canton in Days of Wild Panic--Singapore, the
  Meeting Place of Many Races--strange Night Scenes in
  the City of Singapore--Characteristic Sights in Burma's
  Largest City.

  India, The Land of Temples, Palaces and Monuments           93

  Calcutta, the Most Beautiful of Oriental Cities--Bathing,
  and Burning the Dead at Benares--Lucknow and Cawnpore,
  Cities of the Mutiny--The Taj Mahal, the World's
  Loveliest Building--Delhi and Its Ancient Mohammedan
  Ruins--Scenes in Bombay When the King Arrived--Religion
  and Customs of the Bombay Parsees.

  Egypt, The Home of Hieroglyphs, Tombs and Mummies          135

  Picturesque Oriental Life as Seen in Cairo--Among the
  Ruins of Luxor and Karnak--Tombs of The Kings at
  Ancient Thebes--Sailing Down the Nile on a Small
  Steamer--Before the Pyramids and the Sphinx.

  Hints for Travelers                                        167

  Some Suggestions That May Save the Tourist Time and

  Bibliography                                               171

  Books Which Help One to Understand the Orient and
  Its People.

  Index                                                      175



  The Taj Mahal at Agra                           _Frontispiece_

  The Yomei-mori Gate, Ieyasu Temple, Nikko          _Facing_ 14

  The Daibutsu or Great Bronze Buddha at Hyogo                30

  Imperial Gate, Fort Santiago, Manila                        56

  The City of Boats at Canton                                 74

  Hindoos Bathing in the Ganges at Benares                   100

  Front View of the Taj Mahal, Agra                          114

  One of the Main Avenues of Bombay                          126

  The Great Hypostyle Hall at Karnak                         146



  Japan                                 _Following page_ 48

  Street Scene, Asakusa Park, Tokyo                            I

  Entrance Hall of Modern Home of a Tokyo Millionaire         II

  Bronze Lanterns and Sacred Fountain, Shiba Temple, Tokyo   III

  Sacred Red Bridge at Nikko                                  IV

  Avenue of Cryptomeria to Futaaru Temple, Nikko               V

  Avenue of Cryptomeria Trees, near Nikko                     VI

  Great Bronze Torii, Nikko                                  VII

  Stone Lanterns, Kasuga Temple Park, Nara                  VIII

  Religious Procession, Kyoto                                 IX

  Scene on Canal, Kyoto                                        X

  Street Scene in Kobe                                        XI

  A Group of Japanese Schoolboys                             XII

  Japanese Peasant Group by the Roadside                    XIII

  Scene in Large Private Garden, Kyoto                       XIV

  Iris Bed at Horikiri, near Tokyo                            XV

  Private Garden, Kamakura                                   XVI

  Manila                                _Following page_ 62

  A Glimpse of the Escolta, Manila                          XVII

  Old Church and Bridge at Pasig                           XVIII

  The Binondo Canal at Manila                                XIX

  On the Malecon Drive, Manila                                XX

  View on a Manila Canal                                     XXI

  A Filipino Peasant Girl on the Way to Market              XXII

  The Carabao Cart in the Philippines                      XXIII

  The Nipa Hut of the Filipino                              XXIV

  Hongkong, Canton, Singapore, Rangoon  _Following page_  91

  Queen's Road in Hongkong.                                  XXV

  Flower Market in a Hongkong Street                        XXVI

  Coolies Carrying Burdens at Hongkong                     XXVII

  The Spacious Foreign Bund at Hongkong                   XXVIII

  Chinese Junks in Hongkong Harbor                          XXIX

  View of the Water-front at Canton                          XXX

  The New Chinese Bund at Canton                            XXXI

  A Confucian Festival at Singapore                        XXXII

  A Main Street in the Native Quarter of Singapore        XXXIII

  The Y. M. C. A. Building at Singapore                    XXXIV

  The Great Shwe Dagon Pagoda at Rangoon                    XXXV

  Entrance to the Shwe Dagon Pagoda                        XXXVI

  Burmese Worshipping in the Pagoda at Rangoon            XXXVII

  Riverside Scene at Rangoon                             XXXVIII

  Trained Elephant Piling Teak at Rangoon                  XXXIX

  Palm Avenue, Royal Lakes, Rangoon                           XL

  India                                 _Following page_ 134

  One of the Main Gates to Government House, Calcutta        XLI

  A Street Scene in Calcutta                                XLII

  The Great Burning Ghat at Benares                        XLIII

  View of the Bathing Ghats at Benares                      XLIV

  A Holy Man of Benares Under His Umbrella                   XLV

  The Residency at Lucknow                                  XLVI

  Tomb of Itmad-ul-Daulet at Agra                          XLVII

  The Mutiny Memorial at Cawnpore                         XLVIII

  Detail of Carving in the Jasmine Tower, Agra              XLIX

  The Jasmine Tower in Agra Fort                               L

  Snap-shot of a Jain Family at Agra                          LI

  The Fort at Agra Which Encloses Many Palaces               LII

  Kutab Minar, the Arch and the Iron Pillar, near Delhi     LIII

  Shah Jehan's Heaven on Earth, Delhi                        LIV

  Street View in Delhi                                        LV

  A Parsee Tower of Silence at Bombay                        LVI

  Egypt                                 _Following page_ 164

  A Typical Street in Old Cairo                             LVII

  An Arab Cafe in One of Cairo's Streets                   LVIII

  Women Water Carriers in Turkish Costume                    LIX

  The Rameseon at Karnak                                      LX

  The Avenue of Sphinxes at Karnak                           LXI

  An Arab Village on the Nile                               LXII

  The Colossi of Memnon, near Thebes                       LXIII

  The Great Sphinx, Showing the Temple Underneath           LXIV


This book of impressions of the Far East is called "The Critic in the
Orient," because the writer for over thirty years has been a
professional critic of new books--one trained to get at the best in all
literary works and reveal it to the reader. This critical work--a
combination of rapid reading and equally rapid written estimate of new
publications--would have been deadly, save for a love of books, so deep
and enduring that it has turned drudgery into pastime and an enthusiasm
for discovering good things in every new book which no amount of
literary trash was ever able to smother.

After years of such strenuous critical work, the mind becomes molded in
a certain cast. It is as impossible for me to put aside the habit of the
literary critic as it would be for a hunter who had spent his whole life
in the woods to be content in a great city. So when I started out on
this trip around the world the critical apparatus which I had used in
getting at the heart of books was applied to the people and the places
along this great girdle about the globe.

Much of the benefit of foreign travel depends upon the reading that one
has done. For years my eager curiosity about places had led me to read
everything printed about the Orient and the South Seas. Add to this the
stories which were brought into a newspaper office by globe trotters and
adventurers, and you have an equipment which made me at times seem to be
merely revising impressions made on an earlier journey. When you talk
with a man who has spent ten or twenty years in Japan or China or the
Straits Settlements, you cannot fail to get something of the color of
life in those strange lands, especially if you have the newspaper
training which impels you to ask questions and to drag out of your
informant everything of human interest that the reader will care to

This newspaper instinct, which is developed by training but which one
must possess in large measure before he can be successful in journalism,
seizes upon everything and transmutes it into "copy" for the printer. To
have taken this journey without setting down every day my impressions of
places and people would have been a tiresome experience. What seemed
labor to others who had not had my special training was as the breath in
my nostrils. Even in the debilitating heat of the tropics it was always
a pastime, never a task, to put into words my ideas of the historic
places which I knew so well from years of reading and which I had just
seen. And the richer the background of history, the greater was my
enjoyment in painting with words full of color a picture of my
impressions, for the benefit of those who were not able to share my
pleasure in the actual sight of these famous places of the Far East.

From the mass of newspaper letters written while every impression was
sharp and clear, I have selected what seemed to me most significant and
illustrative. It is only when the traveler looks back over a journey
that he gets the true perspective. Then only is he able to see what is
of general and permanent interest. Most of the vexations of travel I
have eliminated, as these lose their force once they have gone over into
yesterday. What remains is the beauty of scenery, the grandeur of
architecture, the spiritual quality of famous paintings and statues, the
appealing traits of various peoples.

  The Best
  Results of Travel in
  the Orient

The Best Results of Travel in the Orient

This volume includes impressions of the first half of a trip around the
world. The remainder of the journey will fill a companion volume, which
will comprise two chapters devoted to New York and the effect it
produced on me after seeing the great cities of the world. As I have
said in the preface, these are necessarily first impressions, jotted
down when fresh and clear; but it is doubtful whether a month spent in
any of these places would have forced a revision of these first
glimpses, set in the mordant of curiosity and enthusiasm. When the mind
is saturated with the literature of a place, it is quick to seize on
what appeals to the imagination, and this appeal is the one which must
be considered in every case where there is an historical or legendary
background to give salient relief to palace or temple, statue or
painting. Without this background the noblest work seems dull and
lifeless. With it the palace stamps itself upon the imagination, the
temple stirs the emotions, the statue speaks, the painting has a direct
spiritual message.

Certain parts of the Orient are not rich in this imaginative material
which appeals to one fond of history or art; but this defect is
compensated for by an extraordinary picturesqueness of life and a
wonderful luxuriance of nature. The Oriental trip also makes less demand
on one's reading than even a hasty journey through Europe. There are few
pictures, few statues. Only India and Egypt appeal to the sense of the
historical, Japan stands alone, alien to all our ways of life and
thought, but so intensely artistic, so saturated with the intellectual
spirit that it seems to belong to another world than this material,
commercial existence that stamps all European and American life. The new
China furnishes an attractive field of study, but unfortunately when I
visited the country it was in the throes of revolution and travel was
dangerous anywhere outside the great treaty ports.

One of the best results of foreign travel is that it makes one revise
his estimate of alien races. When I started out it was with a strong
prejudice against the Japanese, probably due to my observation of some
rather unlovely specimens whom I had encountered in San Francisco. A
short stay in Japan served to give me a new point of view in regard to
both the people and the country of the Mikado. It was impossible to
escape from the fact that here is a race which places loyalty to country
and personal honor higher than life, and this sentiment was not confined
to the educated and wealthy classes but was general throughout the
nation. Here also is a people so devoted to the culture of beauty that
they travel hundreds of miles to see the annual chrysanthemum and other
flower festivals. And here is a people so devoted to art for art's sake
that even the poor and uneducated have little gardens in their back
yards and houses which reveal a refined taste in architecture and
decoration. The poorest artisans are genuine artists and their work
shows a beauty and a finish only to be found in the work of the highest
designers in our country.

In one chapter of the section on Japan, I have dwelt on the ingenious
theory that it is their devotion to the garden that has kept the
Japanese from being spoiled by the great strides they have made in the
last twenty years in commerce and conquest. To take foremost place
among the powers of the world without any preliminary struggle is an
achievement which well might turn the heads of any people; yet this
exploit has simply confirmed the Japanese in the opinion that their
national training has resulted in this success that other nations have
won only by the expenditure of years of labor and study. When you see
the reverence which every one in Japan shows at the tombs of the
Forty-seven Ronins, you feel that here is a spiritual force which is
lacking in every European country; here is something, whether you call
it loyalty or patriotism or fanaticism, which makes even the women and
children of Japan eager to sacrifice all that they hold most dear on the
altar of their country. No less striking than their loyalty is the
courtesy of the Japanese which makes travel in their country a pleasure.
Even the poor and ignorant country people show in their mutual relations
a politeness that would do credit to the most civilized race, while all
exhibit toward foreigners a courtesy and consideration that is often
repaid by boorishness and insult on the part of tourists and foreign
residents of Japan. Another feature of Japanese life that cannot fail to
impress the stranger is the small weight that is given to wealth. In
their relations with foreigners the governing class and the wealthy
people are sticklers for all the conventional forms; but among
themselves the simplicity of their social life is very attractive.
Elaborate functions are unknown and changes of costume, which make
women's dress so large an item of family expense in any European
country, are unnecessary. Some of the rich Japanese are now lavishing
money on their homes, which are partly modeled on European plans; but in
the main the residences, even of rich people, are very simple and
unpretentious. These homes are filled with priceless porcelains, jades,
paintings and prints, but there is no display merely for the sake of
exhibiting art treasures.

In Manila the American tourist has a good opportunity to contrast what
has been done by his countrymen with what the British have accomplished
in ports like Hongkong and Singapore. Doubtless the English plan will
show the larger financial returns, but it is carried out with a selfish
disregard of the interests of the natives which stirs the gorge of an
American. The Englishman believes in keeping a wide gulf between the
dominant and the humble classes. He does not believe in educating the
native to think that he can rise from the class in which he is born. The
American scheme in the Philippines has been to encourage the development
of character and efficiency, wherever found; and the result is that many
public positions are open to men who were head-hunting savages ten years
ago. Above all other things in the Philippines we have proved, as we
have shown at Panama, that a tropical climate need not be an unhealthful
one. We have banished from Manila cholera, yellow fever and bubonic
plague--three pests that once made it dreaded in the Orient. This, with
an ample water supply, is an achievement worthy of pride, when one
contrasts it with the unsanitary sewerage system of Hongkong and

The small part of the great Chinese Empire which I was able to see gave
me a vivid impression of the activity and enthusiasm of the people in
spreading the new Republican doctrines. The way old things have been put
aside and the new customs adopted seems almost like a miracle. Fancy a
whole people discarding their time-honored methods of examination for
the civil service, along with their queues, their caps and their shoes.
All the authorities have predicted that China would be centuries in
showing the same changes which the Japanese have made in a single
generation; but recent events go far to prove that Japan will be
outstripped in the race for progress by its slow-going neighbor. What
profoundly impresses any visitor to China is the stamina and the
working capacity of the common people. Tireless laborers these Chinese
are, whether they work for themselves or the European. What they will be
able to accomplish with labor-saving machinery no one can predict.
Certainly should they accept modern methods of work, with the same
enthusiasm that they have adopted new methods of government, the markets
of the world will be upset by the product of these four hundred million.
China is to-day in transformation--fluctuant, far-reaching, limited only
by the capacity of a singularly excitable people to absorb new ideas.

In India great is the contrast to China and Japan. Here is an old
civilization, founded on caste: here are many peoples but all joined to
the worship of a system that says the son must follow in the footsteps
of the father; that one cannot break bread with a stranger of another
caste lest he and his tribe be defiled. Nothing more hideous was ever
conceived than this Indian caste system, yet it has held its own against
the force of foreign learning and probably will continue to fetter the
development of the natives of India for centuries to come. Some simple
reforms the English have secured, like the abolition of suttee and the
improved condition of the child widows; but their influence on the great
mass of the people has been pitiably small. India bears the same
relation to the Orient that Italy does to Europe. It is the home of
temples, palaces and monuments; it is the land of beautiful art work in
many materials. Most of its cities have a splendid historical past that
is seen in richly ornamented temples and shrines, in the tombs of its
illustrious dead and in palaces that surpass in beauty of decoration
anything which Europe can boast.

In considering India it must always be borne in mind that here was the
original seat of the Aryan civilization and that, though the Hindoo is
as dark as many of the American negroes, he is of Aryan stock like
ourselves. In comparison with the men who carried Aryan civilization
throughout the world, the Hindoo of to-day is as far removed as is the
modern Greek from the Greek of the time of Pericles and Phidias. Yet he
shows all the signs of race in clear-cut features and in small hands and

The journey throughout India is one which calls for some philosophy, as
the train arrangements are never good and, unless one has the luck to
secure a competent guide, he will be annoyed by the excessive greed of
every one with whom he comes in contact. But aside from such troubles
the trip is one which richly repays the traveler. If one has time it is
admirable to go off the beaten track to some of the minor places which
have fine historical remains; but a good idea of India may be obtained
by taking the regular route from Calcutta to Bombay, by way of Delhi.

In Benares the tourist first meets the swarms of beggars that make life
a burden. Aged men, with loathsome sores, stand whining at corners
beseeching the favor of a two-anna piece; blind men, led by small,
skinny children, set up a mournful wail and then curse you fluently when
you pass them by, and scores of children rise up out of hovels at the
roadside and pursue your carriage with shrill screams. All are filthy,
clamorous, greedy, inexpressibly offensive. If you are soft hearted and
give to one, then your day is made hideous by a swarm of mendicants,
tireless in pursuit and only kept from actual invasion of the carriage
by fear of the driver's whip.

The feature which makes travel on Indian railways a weariness of the
flesh is the roughness of the cars. Each truck on the passenger cars is
provided with two large wheels, exactly like those on freight cars, and
these wheels have wooden felloes and spokes. With poor springs the
result is that though the road-bed is perfect the cars are as rough as
our freight cars. When the speed is over twenty-five miles an hour or
the road is crooked, the motion of the cars is well nigh intolerable.
Ordinarily the motion is so great that reading is difficult and writing
out of the question. At night the jar of the car is so severe that one
must be very tired or very phlegmatic to get any refreshing sleep. When
one travels all day and all night at a stretch--as in the journey from
Jeypore to Bombay--the fatigue is out of all proportion to the distance
covered. In fact Americans have been spoiled by the comforts of Pullman
sleeping-cars, in which foreign critics find so many flaws. Probably the
chief annoyance to our party of Americans, aside from the jar of the
cars, was the dust and soot which poured in day and night. The engines
burn soft coal and the dust on the road-beds is excessive. A system of
double windows and well-fitting screens would remove this nuisance, but
apparently the British in India think dust and grime necessary features
of railway travel, for no effort is made to eliminate them.

No Oriental trip would be complete without a visit to Egypt, and
especially a ride on the Nile. It is more difficult to make anyone
realize the charm of Egypt than of any other country of the Orient. The
people are dirty, ignorant, brutish: their faces contain no appeal
because they are the faces of Millet's "The Man With the Hoe." Centuries
of subjection have killed the pride which still lingers in the face and
bearing of the poorest Arab; the Egyptian peasant does not wear the
collar of Gurth, but he is a slave of the soil whose day of freedom is
afar off. Yet these degenerate people are seen against a background of
the most imposing ruins in the world. Luxor and Karnak and the tombs of
the kings near old Thebes contain enough remains of the splendor of
ancient Egyptian life to permit study for years. The mind is appalled by
this mass of temples, monuments, obelisks and colossal statues. It is
difficult to realize that the same people who are seen toiling in the
fields to-day raised these huge monuments to perpetuate the names of
their rulers. A climate as dry as that of the Colorado desert has
preserved these remains, so that in the rock tombs one may gaze upon
brightly painted hieroglyphs of the time of Moses that look as though
they were carved yesterday.

In this Oriental tour the stamp of strange religions is over all the
lands. The temple is the keynote of each race. And religion with the
Oriental is not a matter of one day's worship in seven: it is a vital,
daily function into which he puts all the dreamy mysticism of his race.
The first sight of several Mohammedans bowed in the dust by the
roadside, with their faces set toward Mecca, gives one a strange thrill,
but this spectacle soon loses its novelty. Everywhere in the Far East
religion is a matter of form and ceremony: it includes regular visits to
the temple and regular prayers and offerings to the deities enshrined in
these houses of worship. But it also includes a daily ritual that must
be observed at certain fixed hours, even though the believer may be in
the midst of the crowded market place. The spiritual isolation of an
Oriental at his prayers in any big city of the Far East is the most
significant feature of this life--so alien to all the mental, moral, and
religious training of the Occident. Vain is it for one of Anglo-Saxon
strain to attempt to bridge this abyss that lies between his mind and
that of the Burman or the Parsee. Each lives in a spiritual world of his
own and each would be homesick for heaven were he transferred to the
ideal paradise of the other. So the traveler in the Orient should give
heed to the temples, for in them is voiced the spiritual aspirations of
the people, who have little of comfort or hope to cheer them in this



Yokohama looks very beautiful to the traveler who has spent over two
weeks on the long sea voyage from Seattle; but it has little to commend
it to the tourist, for most of its native traits have been Europeanized.
It is noteworthy, however, as the best place except Hongkong for the
traveler to purchase an oriental outfit and it is probably the cheapest
place in the world for trunks and bags and all leather goods. Its bund,
or water-front, is spacious and its leading hotels are very comfortable.

Of Japan and the Japanese, all that can be given are a few general
impressions of the result of two weeks of constant travel over the
empire and of talks with many people.

Of the country itself, the prevailing impression of the tourist, who
crosses it on the railroad or who takes rides through the paddy fields
in a rickshaw, is of a perennial greenness. Instead of the tawny yellow
of California in October, one sees here miles on miles of rice fields,
some of vivid green, others of green turning to gold. The foothills of
the mountains remind one of the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, as they
all bear evidences of the rounding and smoothing of glacial action.

At a distance the rice fields look like grain fields, but seen near at
hand they are found to be great swamps of water, with row on row of
rice, the dead furrows either serving as ditches or as raised paths
across the fields. Every bit of hillside is terraced and planted to rice
or vegetables or fruit.

Often these little, terraced fields, which look like the natural mesa of
southern California, will not be over fifty feet long by ten or fifteen
feet wide. Between the rows of fruit trees are vegetables or corn or
sorghum. The farmers live in little villages and apparently go home
every night after tilling their fields. There are none of the scattered
farmhouses, with trees around them, which are so characteristic a
feature of any American rural scene.

The towns as well as the cities show a uniformity of architecture, as
most of the shops are one story or a story and one-half, while the
residences seem to be built on a uniform plan, with great variety in
gateways and decoration of grounds. Most of the roofs are made of a
black clay, corrugated so that it looks like the Spanish-American tile,
and many of the walls that surround residences and temples are of adobe,
with a tiled covering, precisely as one sees to-day the remains of adobe
walls in old Spanish-Californian towns.

The general impression of any Japanese city when seen from a height is
that of a great expanse of low buildings with a liberal sprinkling of
trees and a few pagodas or roofs of Buddhist temples.

The strongest impression that the unprejudiced observer receives in
Japan is of the small value set upon labor as well as upon time by the
great mass of the people. In Yokohama and in Kobe, which show the most
signs of foreign influence, the same traits prevail.

It is one of the astonishing spectacles of the world, this
accomplishment of the business of a great nation by man power alone.
Only in one city, Osaka, the Chicago of Japan, is there any general
evidence of the adoption of up-to-date methods in manufacturing.
Everywhere one sees all the small industries of the country carried on
in the same way that they were conducted in Palestine in the time of

Everywhere men, harnessed to heavy push carts, are seen straining to
haul loads that are enough for a horse. The few horses in the cities are
used for heavy trucks, in common with bulls, for the Japanese bull is a
beast of burden and not one of the lords of creation as in our own

The bull is harnessed with a short neckyoke and a saddle on his back,
which bears a close resemblance to the riding saddle of the Cossack.
Some rope traces are hitched to crude, home-made whiffletrees. The bull,
as well as the horse, is guided by a rope line. The carts are remarkably
heavy, with wheels of great weight, yet many of these carts are pulled
by two men.

In the big cities may be seen a few victorias, or other carriages, and
an occasional motor car, but both these means of conveyance can be used
with safety only on the broadest avenues. In the narrow streets of the
native quarter, which seldom exceed ten feet in width and which have no
sidewalks, the jinrikisha is the only carriage. This is a light,
two-wheeled gig, drawn by one man and frequently on the steep grades
pushed from the back by a second man. The rickshaw man has a bell gong
on one shaft, which he rings when approaching a sharp turn in the street
or when he sees several trucks or other rickshaws approaching. The bell
also serves to warn old people or children who may be careless, for the
rickshaw has the right of way and the pedestrian must turn to either
side to give it the road. Americans, who are far more considerate of the
feelings of the Japanese than other foreigners, frequently may be seen
walking up the steep grades in such hilly cities as Nikko, Nara and
Kobe, but long residence in Japan is said to make everyone callous of
the straining and the sweating of the rickshaw man.

Purposely my itinerary included a number of little towns, which
practically have been uninfluenced by foreign customs. In these places
may be seen the primitive Japanese life, unchanged for hundreds of
years. Yet everywhere one cannot fail to be impressed by the tireless
industry of the people, and by their general good nature and courtesy.

In any other country in the world, a party of Americans with their
foreign dress would have provoked some insulting remarks, some gestures
that could not be mistaken; but here in rural Japan was seen the same
perfect courtesy shown in the Europeanized sections of the big cities.
The people, to be sure, made no change in their way of life. Mothers
suckled their infants in front of their little shops, and children stood
naked and unashamed, lost in wonder over the strange spectacle of the
party of foreign people that dashed by in rickshaws.

Naked men, with only a G-string to distinguish them from the costume of
Adam before the expulsion from Eden, labored at many tasks, and
frequently our little cavalcade swept by the great Government schools
where hundreds of little Japanese are being educated to help out the
manifest destiny of the empire.

This courtesy and good nature among the poorest class of the Japanese
people is not confined to their treatment of foreigners; it extends to
all their daily relations with one another. A nearly naked coolie
pulling a heavy cart begs a light for his cigarette with a bow that
would do honor to a Chesterfield.

A street blockade that in New York or San Francisco would not be
untangled without much profanity and some police interference is cleared
here in a moment because everyone is willing to yield and to recognize
that the most heavily burdened has the right of way.

In all my wanderings by day or night in the large Japanese cities I
never except once saw a policeman lift his, hand to exercise his
authority. This exception was in Tokio, where a band of mischievous
schoolboys was following a party of gayly dressed ladies in rickshaws
and laughing and chattering. The guardian of the peace admonished them
with a few short, crisp words, and they scuttled into the nearest

The industry of the people, whether in city or country, is as amazing as
their courtesy. The Japanese work seven days in the week, and the year
is broken only by a few festivals that are generally observed by the
complete cessation of labor. In the large cities work goes on in most of
the shops until ten or eleven o'clock at night, and it is resumed at six
o'clock the next morning.

The most impressive spectacle during several night rides through miles
of Tokio streets was the number of young lads from twelve to sixteen
years of age who had fallen asleep at their tasks. With head pillowed on
arm they slumbered on the hard benches, where they had been working
since early morning, while the older men labored alongside at their

From the train one saw the rice farmer and his wife and children working
in the paddy fields as long as they could see. These people do not work
with the fierce energy of the American mechanic, but their workday is
from twelve to fourteen hours and, considering these long hours, they
show great industry and conscientiousness.

In some places women were employed at the hardest work, such as coaling
ships by hand and digging and carrying earth from canals and ditches.

Scarcely less impressive than the tireless industry of the people is the
enormous number of children that may be seen both in city and country.
It was impossible to get statistics of births, but any American
traveling through Japan must be struck with the fact that this is a land
not threatened by race suicide.

Women who looked far beyond the time of motherhood were suckling
infants, while all the young women seemed well provided with children.
Girls of five or six were playing games with sleeping infants strapped
to their backs, and even boys were impressed into this nursery work. The
younger children are clothed only in kimonos, so that the passer-by
witnesses many strange sights of naked Japanese cherubs.

In all quarters of Tokio the children were as numerous as in tenement
streets of American cities on a Sunday afternoon, and in small country
towns the number of children seemed even greater than in the big cities.

Another feature of Japanese life that made a profound impression on me
was the pilgrimage of school children to the various sacred shrines
throughout the empire. At Nikko and at Nara, two of the great seats of
Buddhist and Shinto shrines, these child pilgrims were conspicuous. They
were seen in bands of fifty or seventy-five, attended by tutors. The
boys were dressed in blue or black jackets, white or blue trousers and
white leggings. Each carried his few belongings in a small box or a
handkerchief and each had an umbrella to protect him from the frequent

The girls had dark red merino skirts, with kimono waists of some dark
stuff. Many were without stockings, but all wore straw sandals or those
with wooden sole and heavy wooden clogs. School children are admitted to
temples and shrines at half rates and in every place the guides pay
special attention to these young visitors.

Pilgrimages of soldiers and others are also very common. Whenever a
party of one hundred is formed it receives the benefit of the half-rate
admission. No observant tourist can fail to see that in the pilgrimages
of these school children and these soldiers the authorities of new Japan
find the best means of stimulating patriotism. Church and State are so
closely welded that the Mikado is regarded as a god. Passionate devotion
to country is the great ruling power which separates Japan from all
other modern nations.

The number of young men who leave their country to escape the three
years' conscription is very small. The schoolboy in his most
impressionable years is brought to these sacred shrines; he listens to
the story of the Forty-seven Ronins and other tales of Japanese
chivalry; his soul is fired to imitate their self-sacrificing
patriotism. The bloody slopes of Port Arthur witnessed the effect of
such training as this.


Tokio, the capital of Japan, is a picturesque city of enormous extent
and the tourist who sees it in two or three days must expect to do
strenuous work. The city, which actually covers one hundred square
miles, is built on the low shore of Tokio bay and is intersected by the
Sumi river and a network of narrow canals. The river and these canals
are crossed by frequent bridges. At night the tourist may mark his
approach to one of these canals by the evil odors that poison the air.
Even in October the air is sultry in Tokio during the day and far into
the night, but toward morning a penetrating damp wind arises.

Although Tokio's main streets have been widened to imposing avenues that
run through a series of great parks, the native life may be studied on
every hand--for a block from the big streets, with their clanging
electric cars, one comes upon narrow alleys lined with shops and teeming
with life. Here, for the first time, the tourist sees Japanese city
life, only slightly influenced by foreign customs. The streets are not
more than twelve or fifteen feet wide, curbed on each side by flat
blocks of granite, seldom more than a foot or eighteen inches wide.
These furnish the only substitute for a sidewalk in rainy weather, as
most of the streets are macadamized. A slight rainfall wets the surface
and makes walking for the foreigner very disagreeable. The Japanese use
in rainy weather the wooden sandal with two transverse clogs about two
inches high, which lifts him out of the mud. All Japanese dignitaries
and nearly all foreigners use the jinrikisha, which has the right of way
in the narrow streets. The most common sound in the streets is the bell
of the rickshaw man or his warning shout of "Hi! Hi!"

My first day's excursion included a ride through Shiba and Hibiya parks
to Uyeno Park, the resting place of many of the shoguns. This makes a
trip which will consume the entire day. Shiba Park is noteworthy for its
temples (which contain some of the most remarkable specimens of Japanese
art) and for the tombs of seven of the fifteen shoguns or native rulers
who preceded the Mikado in the government of Japan. The first and third
shoguns are buried at Nikko, while the fourth, fifth, eighth, ninth,
eleventh and thirteenth lie in Uyeno Park, Tokio. These mortuary chapels
in Shiba Park are all similar in general design, the only differences
being in the lavishness of the decoration. Out of regard for the foreign
visitor it is not necessary to remove one's shoes in entering these
temples, as cloth covers are provided. Each temple is divided into three
parts--the outer oratory, a corridor and the inner sanctum, where the
shogun alone was privileged to worship. The daimyos or nobles were lined
up in the corridor, while the smaller nobles and chiefs filled the
oratory. It would be tedious to describe these temples, but one will
serve as a specimen of all. This is the temple of the second shogun,
which is noteworthy for the beauty of the decoration of the sanctum and
the tomb.

Two enormous gilded pillars support the vaulted roof of the sanctum,
which is formed of beams in a very curious pattern. A frieze of
medallions of birds, gilded and painted, runs around the top of the
wall. The shrine dates back for two and one-half centuries and is of
rich gold lacquer. The bronze incense burner, in the form of a lion,
bears the date of 1635. The great war drum of Ieyasu, the first of the
Tokugawa shoguns, lies upon a richly decorated stand. Back of the temple
is the octagonal hall, which houses the tomb of the second shogun. This
tomb is the largest example of gold lacquer in the world, and parts of
it are inlaid with enamel and crystal. Scenes from Liao-Ling, China, and
Lake Biwa, Japan, adorn the upper half, while the lower half bears
elaborate decoration of the lion and the peony. The base of the tomb is
a solid block of stone in the shape of the lotus. The hall is supported
by eight pillars covered with gilded copper, and the walls are covered
with gilded lacquer. The enormous amount of money expended on these
shrines will amaze any foreign visitor, as well as the profound
reverence shown by the Japanese for these resting places of the shoguns.

Passing along a wide avenue traversed by electric cars one soon reaches
Hibiya Park, one of the show places of Tokio. To the European tourist or
the visitor from our Eastern States the beauty of the vegetation is a
source of marvel, but San Francisco's Golden Gate Park can equal
everything that grows here in the way of ornamental shrubs, trees and
flowers. On the south side of the park are the Parliament buildings, and
near by the fine, new brick buildings of the Naval and Judicial
Departments and the courts. Near by are grouped many of the foreign
legations, the palaces of princes and the mansions of the Japanese
officials and foreign embassadors. Here also is the Museum of Arms,
which is very interesting because of the many specimens of ancient
Japanese weapons and the trophies of the wars with China and Russia. In
this museum one may see the profound interest which the Japanese
pilgrims from all parts of the empire take in these memorials of
conquest. To them they rank with the sacred shrines as objects of

Not far away is the moat which surrounds the massive walls of the
imperial palace, open only to those who have the honor of an imperial
audience. These walls are of granite laid up without mortar, the corner
stones being of unusual size. The visitor may see the handsome roofs of
the imperial palaces. Those who have been admitted declare that the
decorations and the furniture are in the highest style of Japanese art,
although the simplicity and the neutral colors that mark the Shinto
temples prevail in the private chambers of the Emperor. In the throne
chamber and the banquet hall, on the other hand, gold and brilliant hues
make a blaze of color. Near the palace grounds are the Government
printing office and a number of schools.

Turning down into Yoken street, one of the great avenues of traffic, you
soon reach Uyeno Park--the most popular pleasure ground of the capital,
and famous in the spring for its long lines of cherry trees in full
blossom. In the autumn it impressed me, as did all the other Japanese
parks, as rather damp and unwholesome. The ground was saturated from
recent rain; all the stonework was covered with moss and lichen; the
trees dripped moisture, and the little lakes scattered here and there
were like those gloomy tarns that Poe loved to paint in his poems. Near
the entrance to this park is a shallow lake covered with lotus plants,
and a short distance beyond from a little hill one may get a good view
of the buildings of the imperial university. Here is a good foreign
restaurant where one may enjoy a palatable lunch. Near by on a slight
eminence stands a huge bronze image of Buddha, twenty-one and one-half
feet high, called the Daibutsu. It is one of several such figures
scattered over the empire. Passing through a massive granite torii, or
gate, one reaches an avenue of stately cryptomeria, or cedar trees that
leads to a row of stone lanterns presented in 1651 by daimyos as a
memorial to the first shogun. The temple beyond is famous for its
beautiful lacquer.

Near at hand are the temples and tombs of the six shoguns of the
Tokugawa family, buried in Uyeno Park. These temples are regarded as
among the finest remains of old Japanese art. The mortuary temples bear
a close resemblance to those in Shiba Park. The second temple is the
finer and is celebrated for the gilding of the interior walls, the
gorgeous decoration of the shrines and the memorial tablets in gold
lacquer. Here, also, are eight tablets erected to the memory of eight
mothers of shoguns, all of whom were concubines.


         The Yomei-mori Gate, Ieyasu Temple, Nikko.
  One of the Most Beautiful Gates in all Japan. The Columns
    Are Painted White, with Capitals of Unicorn's Heads.
       The Roof is Supported by Gilt Dragon's Heads.]

A short distance from Uyeno Park is the great Buddhist temple known as
Asakusa Kwannon, dedicated to Kwannon, the goddess of mercy. The
approaches to this temple on any pleasant day look like a country fair.
The crowd is so dense that jinrikishas can not approach within one
hundred yards. The shrine dates back to the sixth century and the temple
is the most popular resort of its kind in Tokio. On each side of the
entrance lane are shops, where all kinds of curios, toys, cakes, et
cetera, are sold. The temple itself is crowded with votaries who offer
coins to the various idols, while below (near the stairs that give
entrance to the temple) are various side booths that are patronized by
worshipers. Some of these gods promise long life; others give
happiness, and several insure big families to women who offer money and
say prayers.

One of the remarkable jinrikisha rides in Japan is that from Uyeno to
Shimbashi station through the heart of Tokio by night. This takes about
a half hour and it gives a series of pictures of the great Japanese city
that can be gained in no other way. Here may be seen miles of little
shops lining alleys not over ten or twelve feet wide, in most of which
work is going on busily as late as eleven o'clock. In places the sleepy
proprietors are putting up their shutters, preparatory to going to bed,
but in others the work of artisan or baker or weaver goes on as though
the day had only fairly begun. Most of these shops are lighted by
electricity, but this light is the only modern thing about them. The
weaver sits at the loom precisely as he sat two thousand years ago, and
the baker kneads his dough and bakes his cakes precisely as he did
before the days of the first shogun. This ride gives a panorama of
oriental life which can be equaled in few cities in the world.
Occasionally the jinrikisha dashes up a little bank and across a bridge
that spans a canal and one catches a glimpse of long lines of house
boats, with dim lights, nestling under overhanging balconies. Overall is
that penetrating odor of the Far East, mingled with the smell of bilge
water and the reek of thousands of sweating human beings. These smells
are of the earth earthy and they led one to dream that night of weird
and terrible creatures such as De Quincey paints in his _Confessions of
an English Opium Eater_.


The most magnificent temples in Japan are at Nikko, in the mountains,
five hours' ride by train from Tokio. What makes this trip the more
enjoyable to the American tourist is that the country reminds him of the
Catskills, and that he gets some glimpses of primitive Japanese life.
The Japanese have a proverb: "Do not use the word 'magnificent' until
you have seen Nikko." And anyone who goes through the three splendid
temples that serve as memorials of the early shoguns will agree that the
proverb is true.

The railroad ride to Nikko is tedious, although it furnishes greater
variety than most of the other trips by rail through the Mikado's
empire. But as soon as one is landed at the little station he recognizes
that here is a place unlike any that he has seen. The road runs up a
steep hill to the Kanaya Hotel, which is perched on a high bank
overlooking the Daiyagawa river. Tall cedar trees clothe the banks, and
across the river rise mountains, with the roofs of temples showing
through the foliage at their base. This hotel is gratefully remembered
by all tourists because of the artistic decoration of the rooms in
Japanese style and the beneficent care of the proprietor, which includes
a pretty kimono to wear to the morning bath, with straw sandals for the
feet, and charming waitresses in picturesque costumes.

The first Buddhist temple at Nikko dates back to the eighth century, but
it was not until the seventeenth century that the place was made a
national shrine by building here the mausoleum of the first shogun,
Ieyasu, and of his grandson, Iemitsu. Hardly less noteworthy than these
shrines and temples is the great avenue of giant cryptomeria trees,
which stretches across the country for twenty miles, from Nikko to

One of the chief objects of interest in Nikko is the Sacred Red Bridge
which spans a swift stream about forty feet wide. This is a new bridge,
as the old one was carried away by a great flood nine years ago.
Originally built in 1638, it served to commemorate the legendary and
miraculous bridging of the stream by Shodo Shonin, a saint. He arrived
at the river one day while on a pilgrimage and called aloud for aid to
cross. On the opposite bank appeared a being of gigantic size, who
promised to help him, and at once flung across the stream two green and
blue dragons which formed a bridge. When the saint was safely over the
bridge, it vanished with the mysterious being. Shodo at once built a hut
on the banks of the stream. For fourteen years he dwelt there and
gathered many disciples. Then he established a monastery and a shrine at
Lake Chuzinji, about nine miles from Nikko. Nine hundred years later the
second shogun of the Tokugawa dynasty sent two officials to Nikko to
select a site for the mausoleum of his father. They chose a site near
Nikko, on a hill called Hotoke-iwa, and in the spring of 1617 the tomb
was completed and the coffin was deposited under it with appropriate
Buddhist ceremonies.

The road to the mausoleum winds around the river. The first object on
the way is a pillar erected in 1643 to ward off evil influences. It is
a cylindrical copper column forty-two feet high, supported by short
horizontal bars of the same material, resting on four short columns.
Small bells hung from lotus-shaped cups crown the summit of the column.
Just beyond this column is a massive granite torii, twenty-seven and
one-half feet high, the gift of the Daimiyo of Chikuzen. To the left is
a five-story pagoda, one hundred and four feet in height, which is
especially graceful. Inside a red wooden wall are arranged a series of
lacquered storehouses, a holy water cistern cut out of a solid block of
granite, a finely decorated building in which rest a collection of
Buddhist writings. A second court is reached by a flight of stairs. Here
are gifts presented by the kings of Luchu, Holland and Korea, these
three countries being regarded as vassal states of Japan. On the left is
the Temple of Yahushi, beautifully decorated in red and gold lacquer,
and just beyond is a fine gate, called Yomei-mon, decorated with
medallions of birds. Passing through this gate, one reaches a court
bordered by several small buildings, one of which contains the
palanquins that are carried in the annual procession on June 1st, when
the deified spirits of the first shogun, Hideyoshi (the great
conqueror), and Yoritomo occupy them. Seventy-five men carry each of
these palanquins.

The main shrines are reached through the Chinese gate. The three
chambers are magnificent specimens of the finest work in lacquer, gold
and metal. The tomb of Ieyasu, the first shogun, is reached by ascending
two hundred stone steps. The tomb is in the form of a small pagoda of
bronze of an unusually light color caused by the mixture of gold. The
body of the shogun is buried twenty feet deep in a bed of charcoal.
Beyond is the mausoleum of Iemitsu, the third shogun. The oratory and
chapel are richly decorated, but they do not compare with those of the
first shogun's tomb. Back of these tombs, among the huge cedar trees
that clothe the sides of the mountain, is a small red shrine where women
offer little pieces of wood that they may pass safely through the
dangers of childbirth. Near by is the tomb of Shodo, the saint, and
three of his disciples.

These mortuary temples and tombs are genuinely impressive. They bear
many signs of age and it is evident that they are held in great
veneration by the Japanese, who make pilgrimages at all seasons to offer
up prayers at these sacred shrines. More impressive than the tombs
themselves are the pilgrims. On the day that I visited this sacred
shrine several large bands of pilgrims were entertained. One party was
composed of over a hundred boys from one of the big government military
schools. These lads were in uniform and each carried an umbrella and a
lunch tied up in a handkerchief. The priests paid special attention to
these young pilgrims and described for their benefit the marvels of
carving and lacquer work. Services were held before the shrines and the
glorious conquest of the shoguns and of Hideyoshi (popularly known as
the Napoleon of Japan) were described in glowing words. The Russian
cannon captured at Port Arthur, which stands near the entrance to the
tombs, was not forgotten by these priests, who never fail to do their
part in stimulating the patriotism of the young pilgrims.

These boys were followed by an equal number of public school girls, all
dressed in dark red merino skirts and kimonos of various colors. Some
were without stockings and none wore any head covering, although each
girl carried her lunch and the inevitable umbrella.

After these children came several parties of mature pilgrims, some
finely dressed and bearing every evidence of wealth and position, while
others were clothed in poor garments and showed great deference to the
priests and guides. All revealed genuine veneration for the sacred
relics and all contributed according to their means to the various
shrines. Some idea of the revenue drawn by the priests from tourists and
pilgrims may be gained when it is said that admission is seventy sen (or
thirty-five cents in American money) for each person, with half-rates to
priests, teachers and school children, and to members of parties
numbering one hundred.

The shops at Nikko will be found well worth a visit, as this city is the
market for many kinds of furs that are scarce in America. Many fine
specimens of wood carving may also be seen in the shops. The main street
of the town runs from the Kanaya Hotel to the railroad depot, a distance
of a mile and one-half, and it is lined for nearly the whole distance
with small shops.

On his return to the railroad the tourist would do well to take a
jinrikisha ride of five miles down through the great avenue of old
cryptomeria trees to the little station of Imaichi. This is one of the
most beautiful rides in the world. The road is bordered on each side by
huge cedar trees which are from one hundred and fifty to two hundred
feet in height. In many cases the roots of these old trees have formed a
natural embankment and the road is thus forced below the level of the
surrounding rice fields. These trees were planted nearly three hundred
years ago and they are certainly in a remarkable state of preservation.
A few gaps there are, due to the vandalism of the country people, but
mile after mile is passed with only an occasional break in these
stately columns, crowned by the deep green masses of foliage. Another
cryptomeria avenue intersects this and runs for twenty-five miles across
the country. The two avenues were planted in order that they might be
used by the shogun's messengers when they bore important letters to him
during his summer residence in Nara.


Next to Nikko, one of the most interesting cities in Japan is Kyoto, the
old capital under the shoguns, the seat of several fine palaces and many
beautiful temples, and the center of large manufacturing works of
satsuma and cloissone ware, damascene work and art work on silk and
velvet. Kyoto may be reached by a short ride from Kobe, but from Tokio
it is an all-day trip of twelve hours by express train. This ride, which
would be comfortable in well appointed cars, is made tedious by the
Japanese preference for cars with seats arranged along the side, like
the new American pay-as-you-enter street cars. For a short ride the side
seat may be endured, but for hours of travel (especially when one is a
tourist and wishes to see the scenery on both sides of the road) the
cars are extremely tiresome.

By selecting the express train and buying first-class tickets it was
hoped to avoid any crowd but, unfortunately, the day chosen saw many
other tourists on their way across Japan. The result was that the
first-class car was packed and many who had paid first-class fares were
forced to ride in the second-class cars. In my car one side was occupied
almost wholly by Japanese. Two were in American dress, one was an army
officer in uniform, another a clerk with many packages, and the
remaining two were an old couple, richly dressed. The Japanese, in
traveling first-class, generally brings a rug or fur, which he spreads
over the seat. On this he sits with his feet drawn up under him in the
national style. Smoking is not prohibited even in the first-class cars,
so that the American ladies in the cars had to endure the smell of
various kinds of Japanese tobacco, in addition to the heat, which was
rendered more disagreeable by the frequent closing of the windows as the
train dashed through many tunnels. The old couple carried lunch in
several hampers and they indulged in a very elaborate luncheon, helped
out by tea purchased in little pots from a dealer at a station. The army
officer bought one of the small wooden lunch boxes sold along all
Japanese railways, which contain boiled rice, fried fish and some boiled
sweet potatoes. This, with a pot of tea, made a good lunch. The Japanese
in European costume patronized the dining-car, where an excellent lunch
was served for one yen, or fifty cents in American money.

The scenery along the line of the railway varied. The road skirts the
coast for many miles, then cuts across several mountain ranges to
Nagoya, then along the shores of Owari bay (an arm of the ocean), thence
across the country to the lower end of Lake Biwa, near which Kyoto is
situated. In the old days this journey consumed twelve days, and the
road twice every year furnished a picturesque procession of the retinues
of great nobles or daimiyos traveling from Kyoto to Tokio to present
their respects to the shogun. The road was skirted by great cryptomeria,
and avenues of these fine trees may still be seen near Nikko.

Kyoto was a great city in medieval days, when it was the residence of
the Mikado. From 793 until 1868, when the court removed to Tokio, Kyoto
remained the capital. Its importance, however, began to decline with
the founding of Yedo, or Tokio, in 1590, and to-day many miles of its
former streets are devoted to the growing of rice. In this way several
of the finest temples, which were once in the heart of the old city, are
now relegated to the suburbs. Besides the Mikado's palace and Nijo
castle, which may be visited only by special permit, Kyoto boasts of an
unusual number of richly decorated temples, among which the most
noteworthy are the Shinto temple of Inari; the temple of the one
thousand images of Kwannon, the Deity of Mercy; the great Buddhist
temple of Nishi-Honguanji, celebrated for its art work in paintings and
decorated woods; the great bronze Buddha, fifty-eight feet high; the big
bell near by, nearly fourteen feet high, and the other in the Cheon-in
temple here--these being two of the four largest bells in all Japan. To
describe the treasures in art and decoration, in gold and lacquer, in
these palaces, would be tiresome. Unless one is a student of Japanese
art the visiting of temples soon becomes a great bore, for one temple or
one palace is a repetition of others already seen, with merely minor
differences in architecture and decoration, which appeal only to the

Kyoto, however, is of great interest for its many art shops--since
applied art, as seen in satsuma and cloissone ware and in damascene,
have almost reached the level of pure art. A visit to one of the satsuma
factories is an interesting experience, as it shows how little the art
of Japan has been influenced by the foreigner. Here one sees the potter
at his wheel, precisely as in the days of the Bible. He does not avail
himself of electric power but whirls his wheel by hand and foot, exactly
as in the time of Christ. Passing from the pottery to the art rooms, one
finds a number of Japanese men and girls painting elaborate designs on
bowls and vases and other articles. These artists grind and mix their
own oil colors, which they proceed to lay on slowly upon the article
they are decorating. The patience of these artists is indescribable.
Infinite pains is taken with a single flower or tree or figure of man or
bird. One vase exhibited here is covered with butterflies which range
from natural size down to figures so small that they can be discerned
only under a magnifying glass. Yet, this vase, which represents such an
enormous outlay of labor and time, is sold at thirty dollars in American

At the damascene works both men and women are also employed, although
the finest work is done by the men. The art consists in beating into
bronze small particles of gold leaf until they have become an actual
part of the baser metal. This gold is arranged in a great variety of
design and, after being beaten in, the article is subjected to powerful
heat, which oxidizes the metal and thus prevents any change due to the
weather. At this Kyoto factory were turned out the most artistic
jewelry, boxes, cigarette cases and a great variety of small articles,
many of which sold at absurdly low prices, considering the amount of
labor and time expended on them.

Kyoto will be found one of the best cities in Japan for the purchase of
the art work just described, as well as embroidery, silks and other
stuffs. In many of these shops the work is done on the premises and
hence the prices are cheaper than in any other city except Yokohama. It
is worth while to visit the shops that exhibit bronze work, silks,
velvets and carvings in ivory and wood, as well as curios of many kinds.
Most of these shopkeepers demand more than they expect to receive, but
in a few shops the goods are plainly marked and no reduction in price
can be secured. At Kyoto the tourist will find many traces of primitive
Japanese life, especially in the unfrequented streets and in the
suburbs. Here in the bed of the river, a portion of which was being
walled up for a canal, were employed a dozen women digging up gravel and
carrying it in baskets to carts near by. They had their skirts tied up
and they were working in mud and water which reached to their knees. It
was not a pleasant spectacle, but it excited no comment in this country,
where women labor in the rice fields by the side of men.

A short ride from Kyoto brings the visitor to Nara, the seat of the
oldest temples in Japan, and famous for the tame deer in the park. A
long avenue of stone lanterns leads to the principal temples, in an
ancient cedar grove. The main temple gives an impression of great age by
its heavy thatched roof.

Next looms up the gigantic wooden structure, which houses Daibutsa, the
great bronze image of Buddha. This statue, which dates back to the
eighth century, is fifty-three and one-quarter feet high; the face is
sixteen feet long and nine and one-quarter feet wide. The god is in a
sitting position, with the legs crossed. The head, which is darker than
the remainder of the image, replaced in the sixteenth century the
original head destroyed by fire. The expression of this Buddha is not
benignant, and the image is impressive only because of its size. It has
two images eighteen feet in height on either hand, but these seemed
dwarfed by the huge central figure.

The park at Nara is very interesting, because of the tame deer which
have no fear of the stranger in European dress, but will eat cakes from
his hand. One of the sources of revenue is to sell these cakes to the

A visit was paid to an old temple at Horyuji, about eight miles from
Nara, which is famous as the oldest Buddhist temple in Japan. It
contains a valuable collection of ancient Japanese works of art. The
rickshaw ride to this place is of great interest, as the road passes
through a rich farming country and two small towns which seem to have
been little affected by European influence. In the fertile valley below
Nara rice is grown on an extensive scale, these paddy fields being
veritable swamps which can be crossed only by high paths running through
them, at distances of thirty or forty feet. Here also may be seen the
curious method of trellising orchards of pear trees with bamboo poles.
The trellis supports the upper branches and this prevents them from
breaking down under the weight of fruit, while it also makes easy the
picking of fruit. Agriculture at its best is seen in this fertile
Japanese valley. One peculiarity of this country, as of other parts of
rural Japan, is that one sees none of the scattered farmhouses which dot
every American farming section. Instead of building on his own land the
farmer lives in a village to which he returns at night after his day's


Kobe is regarded as a base for the tourist who wishes to make short
excursions to Kyoto, Osaka and other cities. It was established as a
foreign settlement in 1868, and has grown so remarkably during the last
ten years that now it exceeds in imports and exports any other city in
Japan. Kobe is one of the most attractive cities in the empire, being
built on a pretty harbor, with the land rising like an amphitheater.
Scores of handsome residences are scattered over the foothills near the
sea. Those on the lower side of the streets that run parallel to the
harbor have gardens walled up on the rear, while the houses on the upper
side of the streets have massive retaining walls. These give opportunity
for many ornamental gateways.

Kobe has many large government schools, but the institutions which I
found of greatest interest were Kobe College for Women, conducted by
Miss Searle, and the Glory Kindergarten, under the management of Miss
Howe. Kobe College, which was founded over thirty years ago, is
maintained by the Women's Board of Missions of Chicago. It has two
hundred and twenty-five pupils, of whom all except about fifty are
lodged and boarded on the premises. I heard several of the classes
reciting in English. The primary class in English read simple sentences
from a blackboard and answered questions put by the teacher. A few
spoke good English, but the great majority failed to open their mouths,
and the result was the indistinct enunciation that is so trying to
understand. Another class was reading _Hamlet_, but the pupils made sad
work of Shakespeare's verse. The Japanese reading of English is always
monotonous, because their own language admits of no emphasis; so their
use of English is no more strange than our attempts at Japanese, in
which we employ emphasis that excites the ridicule of the Mikado's

Not far from this college is the kintergarten, which Miss Howe has
carried on for twenty-four years. She takes little tots of three or four
years of age and trains them in Froebel's methods. So successful has she
been in her work among these children of the best Japanese families of
Kobe that she has a large waiting list. She has also trained many
Japanese girls in kintergarten work. All the children at this school
looked unusually bright, as they are drawn from the educated classes. It
sounded very strange to hear American and English lullabies being
chanted by these tots in the unfamiliar Japanese words.

Osaka, the chief manufacturing city of Japan, is only about
three-quarters of an hour's ride from Kobe. It spreads over nine miles
square and lies on both sides of the Yodogawa river. The most
interesting thing in Osaka is the castle built by Hideyoshi, the
Napoleon of Japan, in 1583. The strong wall was once surrounded by a
deep moat and an outer wall, which made it practically impregnable. What
will surprise anyone is the massive character of the inner walls which
remain. Here are blocks of solid granite, many of them measuring forty
feet in length by ten feet in height. It must have required a small army
of men to place these stones in position, but so well was this work
done (without the aid of any mortar) that the stones have remained in
place during all these years. From the summit of the upper wall a superb
view may be gained of the surrounding country.

From Kobe the tourist makes the trip through the Inland Sea by steamer.
Its length is about two hundred and forty miles and its greatest width
is forty miles. The trip through this sea, which in some places narrows
to a few hundred feet, is deeply interesting. The hills remind a
Californian strongly of the Marin hills opposite San Francisco, but here
they are terraced nearly to their summits and are green with rice and
other crops. Many of the hills are covered with a growth of small cedar
trees, and these trees lend rare beauty to the various points of land
that project into the sea. At two places in the sea the steamer seems as
though she would surely go on the rocks in the narrow channel, but the
pilot swings her almost within her own length and she turns again into a
wider arm of the sea. In these narrow channels the tide runs like a mill
race, and without a pilot (who knows every current) any vessel would be
in extreme danger. The steamer leaves Kobe about ten o'clock at night
and reaches Nagasaki, the most western of Japanese cities, about seven
o'clock the following morning.

Nagasaki in some ways reminds one of Kobe, but the hills are steeper and
the most striking feature of the town is the massive stone walls that
support the streets winding around the hills, and the elaborate paving
of many of these side-hill streets with great blocks of granite. The
rainfall is heavy at Nagasaki, so we find here a good system of gutters
to carry off the water. The harbor is pretty and on the opposite shore
are large engine works, three large docks and a big ship-building
plant, all belonging to the Mitsu Bishi Company. Here some five thousand
workmen are constantly employed.


             The Daibutsu or Great Bronze Buddha
  at Hyogo, Near Kobe. The Impressive Figure is Forty-eight
    Feet High and Eighty-five Feet Round the Waist. It is
         Not so Fine as the Daibutsu at Kamakura But
                   Surpasses That at Nara]

One of the great industries of Nagasaki is the coaling of Japanese and
foreign steamships. A very fair kind of steam coal is sold here at three
dollars a ton, which is less by one dollar and one-half than a poorer
grade of coal can be bought for in Seattle; hence the steamer Minnesota
coaled here. The coaling of this huge ship proved to be one of the most
picturesque sights of her voyage. Early on the morning of her arrival
lighters containing about a railway carload of coal began to arrive.
These were arranged in regular rows on both sides of the ship. Then came
out in big sampans an army of Japanese numbering two thousand in all.
The leaders arranged ladders against the sides of the ship, and up these
swarmed this army of workers, three-quarters of whom were young girls
between fourteen and eighteen years old. They were dressed in all
colors, but most of them wore a native bonnet tied about the ears. They
formed in line on the stairs and then the coal was passed along from
hand to hand until it reached the bunkers. These baskets held a little
over a peck of coal, and the rapidity with which they moved along this
living line was startling.

Every few minutes the line was given a breathing space, but the work
went on with a deadly regularity that made the observer tired to watch
it. Occasionally one of the young girls would flag in her work and,
after she dropped a few basketfuls, she would be relieved and put at the
lighter work of throwing the empty baskets back into the lighters. Most
of these girls, however, remained ten hours at this laborious work, and
a few worked through from seven o'clock in the morning until nearly
midnight, when the last basket of coal was put on board. At work like
this no such force of Europeans would have shown the same self-control
and constant courtesy which these Japanese exhibited. Wranglings would
have been inevitable, and the strong workers would have shown little
regard for their weaker companions.

Another feature of this Japanese work was the elimination of any strain
or overexertion. If a girl failed to catch a basket as it whirled along
the line she dropped it instantly. Never did I see anyone reach over or
strain to do her work.

The rest for lunch occupied only about fifteen minutes, the begrimed
workers sitting down on the steps of the ladders and eating their simple
food with keen relish. At night when strong electric lights cast their
glare over these constantly moving lines of figures the effect was
almost grotesque, reminding one of Gustave Doré's terrible pictures of
the lost souls in torment, or of the scramble to escape when the deluge
came. The skill that comes of long practice marked the movements of all
these workers, and it was rare that any basket was dropped by an awkward
or tired coal-passer.

In seventeen hours four thousand five hundred tons of coal were loaded
on the steamer. About fifteen hundred people were working on the various
ladders, while another five hundred were employed in trimming the coal
in the hold and in managing the various boats. The result was an exhibit
of what can be done by primitive methods when perfect co-operation is

Nagasaki itself has little that will interest the tourist but a ride or
walk to Mogi, on an arm of the ocean, five miles away, may be taken with
profit. The road passes over a high divide and, as it runs through a
farming country, one is able to see here (more perfectly than in any
other part of Japan) how carefully every acre of tillable land is
cultivated. On both sides of this road from Nagasaki to the fishing
village of Mogi were fields enclosed by permanent walls of stone, such
as would be built in America only to sustain a house. In many cases the
ground protected by this wall was not over half an acre in extent, and
in some cases the fields were of smaller size. Tier after tier of these
walls extended up the sides of the steep hills. The effect at a little
distance was startling, as the whole landscape seemed artificial. The
result of this series of walls was to make a succession of little mesas
or benches such as may be seen in southern California.


After a trip through Japan the question that confronts the observant
tourist is: What has preserved the fine artistic sense of the Japanese
people of all classes, in the face of the materialist influences that
have come into their life with the introduction of Western methods of
thought and of business? The most careless traveler has it thrust upon
him that here is a people artistic to the tips of their fingers, and
with childlike power of idealization, although they have been forced to
engage in the fierce warfare of modern business competition. What is it
that has kept them unspotted from the world of business? What secret
source of spiritual force have they been able to draw upon to keep fresh
and dewy this eager, artistic sense that must be developed with so much
labor among any Western people?

The answer to these questions is found, by several shrewd observers, in
the Japanese devotion to their gardens. Every Japanese, no matter how
small and poor his house, has a garden to which he may retire and
"invite his soul." These Japanese gardens are unique and are found in no
other land. China has the nearest approach to them, but the poor Chinese
never dreams of spending time and money in the development of a garden,
such as the Japanese in similar circumstances regards as a necessity.
And these Japanese gardens are always made to conform to the house and
its architecture. The two never fail to fit and harmonize. A poor man
may have only a square of ground no larger than a few feet, but he will
so arrange it as to give it an appearance of spaciousness, while the
more elaborate gardens are laid out so as to give the impression of
unlimited extent. The end of the garden appears to melt into the
horizon, and the owner has a background that extends for miles into the
country. By the artistic use of stones and dwarf plants, a few square
feet of ground are made to give the effect of liberal space and, with
bridges, moss-covered stones, ponds, gold fish and other features, a
perfect illusion of the country may be produced.

Into this garden the master of the house retires after the work of the
day. There he takes none of his business or professional cares. He gives
himself wholly to the contemplation of Nature. He becomes for the time
as a little child, and his soul is pleased with childish things. For him
this garden, with its pretty outlook on a larger world, serves as the
boundary of the universe. Here he may dream of the legends of the
Samurai, before Japan fell under the evil influence of the new God of
Gain. Here he may indulge in the day-dreams that have always been a part
of the national consciousness. Here, in fine, he may get closer to the
real heart of Nature than any Occidental can ever hope to reach.

It is this capacity to get close to Nature that the Japanese possess
beyond any other Oriental people--and this capacity is not limited to
those of means or leisure or education. The poor man, who has a daily
struggle to get enough rice to satisfy his moderate wants, is as open to
these influences as the rich man who is not worried by any material
wants. There is no distinction of classes in this universal worship of
beauty--this passion for all that is lovely in nature. It was not my
good fortune to be in Japan at the time of the cherry-blossom
festival--but these fêtes merely serve to bring out this national
passion for beauty and color, which finds expression not only in the
gardens throughout the empire but in painting, drawing and in working on
silks and other fabrics. The same instinctive art sense is seen in the
work of the cabinet-maker and even in the designs of gateways and the
doors of houses. The eye and the hand of the common worker in wood and
metal is as sure as the hand of the great artist. Such is the influence
of this constant study of beauty in nature and art.

When you watch a busy Japanese artisan you get a good idea of the spirit
that animates his work. He regards himself as an artist, and he shows
the same sureness of hand and the same sense of form and color as the
designer in colors or the painter of portraits or landscapes. All the
beautiful gateways or torii, as they are called, are works of art. They
have one stereotyped form, but the artists embellish these in many ways
and the result is that every entrance to a large estate or a public
ground is pleasing to the eye. As these gateways are generally lacquered
in black or red or gold, they add much to the beauty and color of each
scene. The ornamental lattice over nearly every door also adds
enormously to the effectiveness of even a simple interior.

Watch a worker on cloissone enamel and you will be amazed at the
rapidity and the accuracy with which he paints designs on this beautiful
ware. Without any pattern he proceeds to sketch with his brush an
intricate design of flowers, birds or insects, and he develops this with
an unerring touch that is little short of marvelous, when one considers
that he has never had any regular training in drawing but has grown up
in the shop and has gained all his skill from watching and imitating the
work of his master on the bench at his side. One day in Kyoto I watched
a mere boy gradually develop a beautiful design of several hundred
butterflies gradually becoming smaller and smaller until they vanished
at the top of the vase. What he proposed to make of this was shown in a
finished design that was exquisite in the gradation of form and color.
The same skill of hand and eye was seen in the shops of Kyoto where
damascene ware is made. Gold and silver is hammered into steel and other
metals, so that the intricate designs actually seem to become a part of
the metal. In carving in wood the Japanese excel, and in such places as
Nikko and Nara the tourist may pick up the most elaborate carvings at
absurdly low prices.


In summing up one's observations of Japanese life and character, after a
brief trip across the empire, it is necessary to exercise much care and
not to take the accidental for the ordinary incidents of life.
Generalizations from such observations on a hurried journey are
especially deadly. To guard against such error I talked with many
people, and the conclusions given here are drawn from the radically
different views of missionaries, merchants, steamship agents, bankers
and others. Generous allowance must be made for the prejudices of each
class, but even then the forming of any conclusions is difficult. This
is due largely to the fact that the Japanese a half-century ago were
mediæval in life and thought, and that the remarkable advances which
they have made in material and intellectual affairs have been crowded
into a little more than the life of two generations.

The most common charge made against the Japanese as a race is that their
standard of commercial morality is low as compared with that of the
Chinese. The favorite instance, which is generally cited by those who do
not like the Japanese, is that all the big banks in Japan employ Chinese
shroffs or cashiers, who handle all the money, as Japanese cashiers
cannot be trusted. This ancient fiction should have died a natural
death, but it seems as though it bears a charmed life, although its
untruth has been repeatedly exposed by the best authorities on Japan.

The big foreign banks in all the large Japanese cities do employ Chinese
shroffs, because these men are most expert in handling foreign money and
because they usually have a large acquaintance all along the Chinese
coast among the clients of the banks. The large Japanese banks, on the
other hand, employ Japanese in all positions of trust and authority, as
do all the smaller banks throughout the empire. Many of the cashiers of
these smaller banks understand English, particularly those that have
dealings with foreigners. At a native bank in Kobe, which was Cook's
correspondent in that city, I cashed several money orders, and the work
was done as speedily as it would have been done in any American bank.
The fittings of the bank were very cheap; the office force was small,
but the cashier spoke excellent English and he transacted business
accurately and speedily.

In making any generalizations on the lack of rigid commercial honesty
among Japanese merchants it may be well for me to quote the opinion of
an eminent American educator who has spent over forty years in Japan. He
said, in discussing this subject: "We must always consider the training
of the Japanese before their country was thrown open to foreign trade.
For years the nation had been ruled by men of the Samurai or military
class, with a rigid code of honor, but with a great contempt for trade
and tradesmen. Naturally business fell into the hands of the lower
classes who did not share the keen sense of honor so general among their
rulers. Hence, there grew up lax ideas of commercial morality, which
were fostered by the carelessness in money matters among the nobility
and aristocracy. Much of the prevalent Japanese inability to refrain
from overcharging, or delivering an inferior article to that shown to
the customer, dates back to these days of feudal life. The years of
contact with the foreigners have been too few to change the habits of
centuries. Another thing which must always be considered is the relation
of master and vassal under feudal life. That relation led to peculiar
customs. Thus, if an artisan engaged to build a house for his overlord
he would give a general estimate, but if the cost exceeded the sum he
named, he expected his master to make up the deficit. This custom has
been carried over into the new régime, so that the Japanese merchant or
mechanic of to-day, although he may make a formal contract, does not
expect to be bound by it, or to lose money should the price of raw
material advance, or should he find that any building operations have
cost more than his original estimate. In such case the man who orders
manufactured goods or signs a contract for any building operations seems
to recognize that equity requires him to pay more than was stipulated in
the bond. When Japanese deal with Japanese this custom is generally
observed. It is only the foreigner who expects the Japanese to fulfill
his contract to the letter, and it is the attempt to enforce such
contracts which gives the foreign merchant his poor opinion of Japanese
commercial honesty. In time, when the Japanese have learned that they
must abide by written contracts, these complaints will be heard no
longer. The present slipshod methods are due to faulty business customs,
the outgrowth of the old Samurai contempt for trade in any form."

In dealing with small Japanese merchants in various cities, it was my
experience that they are as honest as similar dealers in other
countries. Usually they demanded about one-half more than they expected
to receive. Then they made reductions and finally a basis of value was
agreed upon. This chaffering seems to be a part of their system; but the
merchants and manufacturers who are brought most often into contact with
Europeans are coming to have a fixed price for all their goods, on which
they will give from ten to twenty per cent. reduction, according to the
amount of purchases. One manufacturer in Kyoto who sold his own goods
would make no reduction, except in the case of some samples that he was
eager to sell. His goods were all plainly marked and he calmly allowed
tourists to leave his store rather than make any cut in his prices. The
pains and care which the Japanese dealer will take to please his
customer is something which might be imitated with profit by foreign

A question that is very frequently put is, "What has been the influence
of Christianity upon Japanese life and thought?" This is extremely
difficult to answer, because even those who are engaged in missionary
work are not always in accord in their views. One missionary of thirty
years' experience said: "The most noteworthy feature of religious work
in Japan is the number of prominent Japanese who have become converts to
Christianity. The new Premier, who is very familiar with life in the
United States, may be cited as one of these converts. Such a man in his
position of power will be able to do much to help the missionaries. The
usual charge that Japanese embrace Christianity in order to learn
English without expense falls to the ground before actual personal
experience. The converts always seemed to me to be as sincere as
converts in China or Corea, but it must be admitted that the strong
materialist bent of modern Japanese education and thought is making it
more difficult to appeal to the present generation."

An educator who has had much experience with Japanese said: "It looks to
me as though Japan would soon reach a grave crisis in national life.
Hitherto Buddhism and Shintoism have been the two forces that have
preserved the religious faith of the people and kept their patriotism at
white heat. Now the influences in the public schools are all
antagonistic to any religious belief. The young men and women are
growing up (both in the public schools and the government colleges) to
have a contempt for all the old religious beliefs. They cannot accept
the Shinto creed that the Emperor is the son of God and should be
worshiped as a deity by all loyal Japanese. They cannot accept the
doctrines of Buddha, as they see the New Japan giving the lie to these
doctrines every day in its home and international dealings. Nothing is
left but atheism, and the experience of the world proves that there is
nothing more dangerous to a nation than the loss of its religious faith.
The women of Japan are slower to accept these new materialist views than
the men, but the general breaking down of the old faith is something
which no foreign resident of Japan can fail to see. On the other side
patriotism is kept alive by the pilgrimages of school children to the
national shrines, but one is confronted with the questions? Will the
boys and girls of a few years hence regard these shrines with any
devotion when they know that Buddhism and Shintoism are founded on a
faith that science declares has no foundation? Will they offer up money
and homage to wooden images which their cultivated reason tells them are
no more worthy of worship than the telegraph poles along the lines of
the railway?'"

The Japanese way of doing things is the exact reverse of the American
way generally, but if one studies the methods of this Oriental race it
will be found that their way is frequently most effective. Thus, in
addressing letters they always put the city first, then the street
address and finally the number, while they never fail to put the
writer's name and address on the reverse of the envelope, which saves
the postoffice employés much trouble and practically eliminates the
dead-letter office.

The Japanese sampan, as well as other boats, is never painted, but it is
always scrubbed clean. The sampan has a sharp bow and a wide, square
stern, and navigators say it will live in a sea which would swamp the
ordinary Whitehall boat of our water-front. The Japanese oar is long and
looks unwieldy, being spliced together in the middle. It is balanced on
a short wooden peg on the gunwale and the oarsman works it like a sweep,
standing up and bending over it at each stroke. The result is a sculling
motion, which carries the boat forward very rapidly. In no Japanese
harbor do the big steamships come up to the wharf. They drop anchor in
the harbor, and they are always surrounded by small sampans, the owners
of which are eager to take passengers ashore for about twenty-five cents
each. All cargo is taken aboard by lighters or unloaded in the same way.
These lighters hold as much as a railroad freight car.

The fishing boats of Japan add much to the picturesqueness of all the
harbors, as they have sails arranged in narrow strips laced to bamboo
poles, and they may be drawn up and lowered like the curtains in an
American shop window. Whether square or triangular, these sails have a
graceful appearance and they are handled far more easily than ours.

The Japanese carpenter, who draws his plane as well as his saw toward
himself, appears to work in an awkward and ungainly way, but he does as
fine work as the American cabinet-maker. The beauty of the interior
woodwork of even the houses of the poorer classes is a constant marvel
to the tourist. Nothing is ever painted about the Japanese house, so the
fineness of the grain of the wood is revealed as well as the exquisite
polish. A specialty of the Japanese carpenter is lattice-work for the
windows and grill-work for doors. These add very much to the beauty of
unpretentious houses.

In conclusion it may be said that Japan offers the lover of the
beautiful an unlimited opportunity to gratify his æsthetic senses. In
city or country he cannot fail to find on every hand artistic things
that appeal powerfully to his sense of beauty. Whether in an ancient
temple or a new home for a poor village artisan, he will see the results
of the same instinctive sense of the beautiful and the harmonious. The
lines are always lines of grace, and the colors are always those which
blend and gratify the eye.


Any thoughtful visitor to Japan must be impressed with the problems that
confront Japan to-day, owing to the influence of foreign thought and
customs. This influence is the more to be dreaded because the Japanese
are so impressionable and so prone to accept anything which they are
convinced is superior to their own. They have very little of the Chinese
passion for what has been made sacred by long usage. They have high
regard for their ancestors, but very little reverence for their customs
and opinions. This lack of veneration is shown in striking fashion by
those Japanese students who come to this country to gain an education.
These young men are as eager as the ancient Athenians for any new thing,
and when they return to their old homes each is a center of Occidental
influence. This is frequently not for the best interests of their
countrymen, who have not had their own opportunities of observation and

The qualities in which the Japanese excel are the very qualities in
which so many Americans are deficient. Personal courage and loyalty are
the traits which Professor Scherer, a distinguished expert, regards as
the fundamental traits of the Japanese character. That these qualities
have not been weakened materially was shown in the recent war with
Russia. In that tremendous struggle was demonstrated the power of a
small nation, in which everyone--men, women and children--were united
in a passionate devotion to their country. No similar spectacle was
ever shown in modern history. The men who went cheerfully to certain
death before Port Arthur revealed no higher loyalty than the wives at
home who committed suicide that their husbands might not be called upon
to choose between personal devotion to their family and absolute
loyalty to the nation. The foreign correspondents, who were on
two-hundred-and-three-metre hill before Port Arthur, have told of the
Japanese soldiers in the ranks who tied ropes to their feet in order
that their comrades might pull their bodies back into the trenches. All
those who were drafted to make the assaults on the Russian works in
that awful series of encounters (which make the charge of the Light
Brigade at Balaklava seem cheap and theatrical) knew they were going to
certain death. Yet these foreign observers have left on record that the
only sentiment among those who remained in the trenches was envy that
they had not been so fortunate as to be selected to show this supreme
loyalty to their country. General Nogi, who recently committed suicide
with his wife on the day of the funeral of the late Emperor, had two
sons dash to this certain death on the bloodstained hill before Port
Arthur. As commander, he could have assigned them to less dangerous
positions, but it probably never entered his head to shield his own
flesh and blood. And the same loyalty that is shown to country is also
proved in the relation of servant to master. The story of the
Forty-seven Ronins is too well known to need repetition, but the
loyalty of these retainers (who slew the man that caused their lord's
death, although they knew that this deed called for their immediate end
by their own hands) impresses one with new force when he stands before
the tombs of these men in the Japanese capital and sees the profound
reverence in which they are still held by the people of Japan.

What puzzles the foreign observer is: Will this passionate loyalty of
servant to master survive the spectacle of the ingratitude and
self-interest which the Japanese see in the relation of master and
servant in most Christian countries? The whole tendency of life in other
countries than his own is against this loyalty, which has been bred in
his very marrow. How long, without the mainstay of religion, will the
Japanese cling to this outworn but beautiful relic of his old life? And
it must be confessed that religion is rapidly losing its hold on the men
of Japan. Those who have been abroad are apt to return home
freethinkers, because the spectacle of the practical working of
Christianity is not conducive to faith among so shrewd a people as the
Japanese. Even the example of the foreigners in Japan is an influence
that the missionaries regard as prejudicial to Christianity.

Another trait of the Japanese which will not be improved by contact with
foreigners, and especially with Americans, is thoroughness. This trait
is seen on every hand in Japan. Nothing is built in a slovenly way,
whether for private use or for the government. The artisan never scamps
his work. He seems to have retained the old mechanic's pride in doing
everything well which he sets his hand to do. This is seen in the
carving of many works of art, as well as in the building of the
ornamental gateways throughout the empire, that stand as monuments to
the æsthetic sense of the people. Yet the whole influence of foreign
teaching and example is against this thoroughness that is ingrained in
the Japanese character. The young people cannot fail to see that it
does not pay their elders to expend so much time and effort to gain
perfection, when their foreign rivals secure apparently equal if not
superior results by quick and careless work. It is upon these Japanese
children that the future of the empire depends. They are sure to be
infected by these object lessons in the gospel of selfish and careless
work, which the labor union leaders in our country have preached until
it has been accepted by the great mass of mechanics.

Another racial quality of the Japanese, which is likely to suffer from
contact with foreigners, is his politeness. This is innate and not
acquired; it does not owe any of its force to selfish considerations.
The traveler in Japan is amazed to see this politeness among all
classes, just as he sees the artistic impulse flowering among the
children of rough toilers in the fields. And again the question arises:
Will the Japanese retain this attractive trait when they come into more
intimate contact with the foreigner, who believes in courtesy mainly as
a business asset rather than as a social virtue?

So, in summing up one's impressions of Japan, there comes this
inevitable doubt of the permanence of the fine qualities which make the
Japanese nation to-day so distinct from any other. The Japanese may
differ from all other races in their power of resisting the corrupting
influences of foreign association, but it is to be feared that the
visitor to the Mikado's land fifty years from now may not only find no
Mikado, but none of the peculiarly gracious qualities in the Japanese
people which to-day set them apart from all other nations.

[Illustration: PLATE I

    Street Scene, Asakusa
  Park, Tokyo. This Picture
      Gives a Good Idea
     of Japanese Street
      Dress of Men and
      Women. The Park
        Contains a
        Tower, Two
     Hundred and Twenty
      Feet in Height]

[Illustration: PLATE II

  Entrance Hall and Stairway
        of Modern Home
   of a Tokyo Millionaire.
     Note the Priceless
        Screens With
  Cherry-Blossom Decoration,
  the Bronze Stair Railings
    and the Inlaid Floor]

[Illustration: PLATE III

   Bronze Lanterns and
  Sacred Fountain, Shiba
   Temple, Tokyo. These
  Temples in Shiba Park
  Are Among the Marvels
       of Japanese

[Illustration: PLATE IV

    Sacred Red Bridge at
   Nikko. Legend Says It
  Was Built for the Saint
     Shodo Shonin. No
   One Crossed It Except
    the Shoguns and in
     Modern Times the
      Mikado. General
     Grant Was Given a
    Permit to Cross This
    Bridge, but Sensibly
     Refused to Use It]

[Illustration: PLATE V

       Avenue of Cryptomeria to Futaaru Temple, Nikko.
  This Picture Gives a Good Idea of the Effectiveness of the
       Tori or Gate, of Black or Red Lacquer or Natural
              Wood, Which Stands at the Entrance
                  to Most Parks and Temples]

[Illustration: PLATE VI

      Avenue of Cryptomeria Trees, near Nikko.
  This Splendid Avenue, Lined with Huge Cedar Trees
      from One Hundred and Fifty to Two Hundred
       Feet in Height, Extends for Five Miles
                from Nikko to Imaichi]

[Illustration: PLATE VII

              Great Bronze Torii, Nikko.
          These Torii or Gates Form the Most
  Characteristic Feature of Japanese Landscapes. They
          Are Always of the Same Pattern But
          Infinite in Variety of Decoration]

[Illustration: PLATE VIII

    Stone Lanterns, Kasuga Temple Park, Nara.
  A Remarkable Collection of Lanterns Which Line
    the Avenue Leading to the Temple. In This
        Park Many Tame Deer Wander, Their
           Horns Being Cut Once a Year
                    in October]

[Illustration: PLATE IX

               Religious Procession, Kyoto.
      This Gives a Good Idea of a Familiar Sight in
  all Japanese Cities. Many of the Standards Carried in
          These Processions are Very Beautiful,
                  With Silk Streamers of
                       Many Colors]

[Illustration: PLATE X

  Scene on Canal, Kyoto.
    None of the Houses
   That Line This Canal
  Are Elaborate, But All
  Have Balconies Adorned
   With Dwarf Trees and
    Plants in Pots of
   Many Colors. This Is
     One of the Most
  Picturesque Scenes in
       All Japan]

[Illustration: PLATE XI

    Street Scene in Kobe.
     This View Shows the
    Low Two-Story Houses,
      With Overhanging
   Balconies, the Enormous
      Gilded Signs and
     the Absence of All
    Horses in the Street.
     This Street Scene Is
   Typical of All Japanese

[Illustration: PLATE XII

    A Group of Japanese
     Schoolboys. These
  Faces, Full of Life and
   Mischief, Are Typical
   of Young Japan. About
  the Only Faces in Japan
    Free From Lines of
     Care Are Those of
   School Children. When
   Over Sixteen the Face
  of the Japanese Becomes
   a Mask Which Conceals
       All Emotions]

[Illustration: PLATE XIII

    Japanese Peasant Group by the Roadside.
  These Country People Show Keen Curiosity in
    Regard to the Foreign Tourist but They
             Are Always Courteous]

[Illustration: PLATE XIV

  Scene in Large Private
    Garden, Kyoto. This
  Old Capital of Japan Is
    Noted for Its Many
  Beautiful Gardens, With
    Ponds Well Stocked
     With Goldfish and
   Crossed by Miniature

[Illustration: PLATE XV

    Iris Bed at Horikiri,
      near Tokyo. This
    Flower Resort is the
  Scene of Many Pilgrimages
      in June When the
     Irises Are in Full

[Illustration: PLATE XVI

            Private Garden, Kamakura.
    This Gives a Good Idea of the Arrangement
  of a Japanese Garden. To the Influence of the
     Garden is Ascribed the Japanese Love of
        the Beautiful in Nature and Art]



The bay of Manila is so extensive that the steamer appears to be
entering a great inland sea. The shores are low-lying and it takes about
an hour before the steamer nears the city, so that one can make out the
landmarks. To the right, as one approaches the city, is Cavite, which
Dewey took on that historic May day in 1898. The spires of many churches
are the most conspicuous landmarks in Manila, but as the distance
lessens a huge mass of concrete, the new Manila hotel, looms up near the
docks. The bay is full of ships and alongside the docks are a number of
passenger and freight steamers.

Just as we are able to make out these things, our ears catch the strains
of a fine band of music and we see two launches rapidly nearing the
ship. In one is a portion of the splendid Constabulary Band, the finest
in the Orient. In the other launch was the special committee of the
Manila Merchants' Association. The band played several stirring airs,
everybody cheered and waved handkerchiefs and for a few minutes it
looked as though an impromptu Fourth of July celebration had begun. It
is difficult to describe an American's emotions when he sees the Stars
and Stripes for the first time in five weeks. The most phlegmatic man on
the ship danced a war dance, women wept, and when the reception
committee boarded the ship and met the passengers in the dining saloon
there was great enthusiasm. Plans were arranged for crowding into the
two days' stay all the sightseeing and entertainment possible and these
plans were carried out, giving a fine proof of Manila hospitality.

Manila differs from most of the Oriental cities in the fact that
American enterprise has constructed great docks and dredged out the
harbor so that the largest steamers may anchor alongside the docks. In
Yokohama, Kobe, Hongkong and other ports ships anchor in the bay and
passengers and freight must be transferred to the shore by launches and
lighters. Reinforced concrete is now the favorite building material of
the new Manila. Not only are the piles and docks made of this material,
but all the new warehouses and business buildings as well as most of the
American and foreign residences are of concrete. It is substantial,
clean, cool and enduring, meeting every requirement of this tropical
climate. The white ant, which is so destructive to the ordinary wooden
pile, does not attack it.

The Pasig river divides Manila into two sections. On the south side of
the old walled city are the large districts of Malate, Ermito and Paco.
On the north side is the principal retail business street, the Escolta
and the other business thoroughfares lined with small shops, and six
large native districts. The Escolta is only four blocks long, very
narrow, with sidewalks barely three feet wide; yet here is done most of
the foreign retail trade. In a short time a new Escolta will be built in
the filled district, as it would cost too much to widen the old street.
As a car line runs through the Escolta, there is a bad congestion of
traffic at all times except in the early morning hours. The Bridge of
Spain is one of the impressive sights of Manila. With its massive
arches of gray stone, it looks as though it would be able to endure for
many more centuries. One of the oldest structures in the city, it was
built originally on pontoons, and it was provided with the present
arches in 1630. Only one earthquake, that of 1863, damaged it. Then two
of the middle arches gave way, and these were not restored for twelve
years. The roadway is wide, but it is crowded all day with as
picturesque a procession as may be seen in any part of the world. The
carromata, a light, two-wheeled cart, with hooded cover, pulled by a
native pony, is the favorite conveyance of the foreigners and the better
class of the Filipinos. The driver sits in front, while two may ride
very comfortably on the back seat. It is a great improvement on the
Japanese jinrikisha because one may compare impressions with a
companion. The country cart is built something like the carromata and
will accommodate four people. Hundreds of these carts come into Manila
every day with small stocks of vegetables and fruit for sale at the
markets. A few victorias may be seen on the bridge, but what causes most
of the congestion is the carabao cart, hauling the heavy freight. The
carabao (pronounced carabough, with the accent on the last syllable), is
the water buffalo of the Philippines, a slow, ungainly beast of burden
that proves patient and tractable so long as he can enjoy a daily swim.
If cut off from water the beast becomes irritable, soon gets "loco" and
is then dangerous, as it will attack men or animals and gore them with
its sharp horns. The carabao has little hair and its nose bears a strong
resemblance to that of the hippopotamus. Its harness consists of a
neckyoke of wood fastened to the thills of the two-wheeled cart. On this
cart is frequently piled two tons, which the carabao pulls easily.

Another bridge which has historic interest for the American is the San
Juan bridge. It is reached by the Santa Mesa car line. Here at either
end were encamped the American and Filipino armed forces, and the
insurrection was started by a shot at night from the native trenches.
The bridge was the scene of fierce fighting, which proved disastrous to
the Filipinos.

Aside from the bridges and the life along the Pasig river, the most
interesting part of Manila lies within the old walled city. This section
is known locally as "IntraMuros." It is still surrounded by the massive
stone wall, which was begun in 1591 but not actually completed until
1872. The wall was built to protect the city from free-booters, as
Manila, like old Panama, offered a tempting prize to pirates. Into the
wall was built old Fort Santiago, which still stands. The wall varies in
thickness from three to forty feet, and in it were built many chambers
used as places of confinement and torture. Until six years ago a wide
moat surrounded the wall, but the stagnant water bred disease and the
moat was filled with the silt dredged up from the bay. Fort Santiago
forms the northwest corner of the wall. Its predecessor was a palisade
of bags, built in 1571, behind which the Spaniards defended themselves
against the warlike native chiefs. In 1590 the stone fort was begun.
Within it was the court of the military government. Seven gates were
used as entrances to the walled city in old Spanish days, the most
picturesque being the Real gate, bearing the date of 1780, and the Santa
Lucia gate, with the inscription of 1781. These gates were closed every
night, and some of the massive machinery used for this purpose may be
seen lying near by--a reminder of those good old days when the belated
traveler camped outside.

In the old walled city are some of the famous churches of Manila. The
oldest is San Augustin, first dedicated in 1571. The present structure
was built two years later, the first having been completely destroyed by
fire. The enormously thick walls were laid so well that they have
withstood the severe earthquakes which proved so destructive to many
other churches. In this church are buried Legaspi and Salcedo, the
explorers, who spread Spanish dominion over the Philippines.

The Church of St. Ignatius is famous for the beautifully carved woodwork
of the pulpit and the interior decorations; that of Santo Domingo is
celebrated for its finely carved doors. The greatest shrine in the
Phillippines is the Cathedral, which fronts on Plaza McKinley. This is
the fifth building erected on the same site, fire having destroyed the
other four. The architecture is Byzantine, and the interior gives a
wonderful impression of grace and spaciousness. Some of the old doors
and iron grill-work of the ancient cathedrals have been retained.


It will surprise any American visitor to the Philippine Islands to find
how much has been accomplished since 1898 to make life better worth
living for the Filipino as well as for the European or the American.
Civil government through the Philippine Commission has been in active
operation for ten years. During this decade what Americans have achieved
in solving difficult problems of colonial government is matter for
national pride. The American method in the Philippines looks to giving
the native the largest measure of self-government of which he is
capable. It has not satisfied the Filipino, because he imagines that he
is all ready for self-government, but it has done much to lift him out
of the dead level of peonage in which the Spaniard kept him and to open
the doors of opportunity to young Filipinos with ability and energy. I
talked with many men in various professions and in many kinds of
business and all agreed that the American system worked wonders in
advancing the natives of real ability.

Rev. Dr. George W. Wright of Manila, who has charge of a large
Presbyterian seminary for training young Filipinos for the ministry, and
who has had much experience in teaching, said: "In the old days only the
sons of the illustrados, or prominent men of the noble class, had any
chance to secure an education and this education was given in the
Catholic private schools. With the advent of the Americans any boy
possessing the faculty of learning quickly may get a good education,
provided he will work for it. I know of one case of a boy who did not
even know who his parents were. He gained a living by blacking shoes and
selling papers. He came to me for aid in entering a night school. He
learned more rapidly than anyone I ever knew. Soon he came to me and
wanted a job that would occupy him half a day so that he could go to
school the other half of the day. I got him the job and in a few months
he was not only perfecting himself in English, but reading law. Nothing
can keep this boy down; in a few years he will be a leader among his
people. Under the old Spanish system he never would have been permitted
to rise from the low caste in which fortune first placed him."


    Imperial Gate, Fort Santiago, Manila.
  This is the Main Entrance to the Old Fort,
    Built Into the Massive Wall. This Wall
       Was for Spanish Defense Against
           Warlike Native Chiefs]

More than a thousand American teachers are scattered over the Philippine
Islands, and for ten years these men and women have been training the
young of both sexes. Some have proved incompetent, a few have set a very
bad example, but the great majority have done work of which any nation
might be proud. They have not only been teachers of the young, but they
have been counselors and friends of the parents of their pupils.

The work done in a material way in the Philippines is even more
remarkable. Of the first importance is the offer of a homestead to every
citizen from the public lands. So much was paid for the friar lands that
these are far beyond the reach of anyone of ordinary means, but the
government has large reserves of public land, which only need
cultivation to make them valuable. Sanitary conditions have been
enormously improved both in Manila and throughout the islands. In the
old days Manila was notorious for many deaths from cholera, bubonic
plague and smallpox. No sanitary regulations were enforced and the
absence of any provisions for sewage led to fearful pestilences. Now not
only has Manila an admirable sewerage system, but the people have been
taught to observe sanitary regulations, with the result that in the
suburbs of such a city as Manila the homes of common people reveal much
better conditions than the homes of similar classes in Japan. The sewage
of Manila is pumped three times into large sumps before it is finally
dumped into the bay a mile from the city.

The island military police, known as the Constabulary Guard, has done
more to improve conditions throughout the islands than any other agency.
The higher officers are drawn from the United States regular army, but
the captains and lieutenants are from civil life, and they are mainly
made up of young college graduates. These men get their positions
through the civil service and, though some fail to make good, the great
majority succeed. Their positions demand unusual ability, for they not
only have charge of companies of native police that resemble the Mexican
rurales or the Canadian mounted police, but they serve as counselor and
friend to all the Filipinos in their district. In this way their
influence is frequently greater than that of the school teachers.

All this work and much more has been accomplished by the insular
government without calling upon the United States for any material help.
It does not seem to be generally known that the Philippine Islands are
now self-supporting, and that the only expense entailed on the general
government is a slight increase for maintaining regiments assigned to
the island service and the cost of Corregidor fortifications and other
harbor defenses. This has been accomplished without excessive taxation.
Personal property is exempt, while the rate on real estate in Manila is
only one and one-half per cent. on the assessed valuation, and only
seven-eights of one per cent. in the provinces. The fiscal system has
been put on a gold basis, thus removing the old fluctuating silver
currency which was a great hardship to trade.


Every visitor to Manila in the old days exhausted his vocabulary in
praise of the Luneta, the old Spanish city's pleasure ground, which
overlooked the bay and Corregidor Island. It was an oval drive, with a
bandstand at each end, inclosing a pretty grass plot. Here, as evening
came on, all Manila congregated to hear the band play and to meet
friends. The Manilan does not walk, so the broad drive was filled with
several rows of carriages passing slowly around the oval. To-day the
Luneta remains as it was in the old Spanish days, but its chief charm,
the seaward view, is gone. This is due to the filling in of the harbor
front, which has left the Luneta a quarter of a mile from the
water-front. However, a new Luneta has been made below the old one, and
the broad avenues opened up near by give far more space for carriages
than before. Every evening except Monday the Constabulary Band plays on
the Luneta, and the scene is almost as brilliant as in the old days, as
the American Government officials make it a point to turn out in
uniform. Nothing can be imagined more perfect than the evenings in
Manila after the heat of the day. The air is deliciously soft and a
gentle breeze from the ocean tempers the heat.

The best way to see the native life of Manila is to take a street-car
ride through the Tondo and Caloocan districts, or a launch ride up the
Pasig river. On the cars one passes through the heart of the business
district, the great Tondo market, filled with supplies from the
surrounding country as well as many small articles of native or foreign
manufacture. This car line also passes the Maypajo, the largest cockpit
in the world, where at regular intervals the best fighting cocks are
pitted against each other and the betting is as spirited as on American
race tracks in the old days. On the return trip by these cars one passes
by the San Juan bridge, which marked the opening of the insurrection;
the old Malacanan Palace, now the residence of Governor-General Forbes,
and the Paco Cemetery, where several thousand bodies are buried in the
great circular wall which surrounds the church. These niches in the wall
are rented for a certain yearly sum, and in the old Spanish days, when
this rental was not promptly paid by relatives, the corpse was removed
and thrown with others into a great pit. Recently this ghastly practice
has been frowned on by the authorities.

The average Manila resident does not pay more than fifty dollars in our
money for his nipa house. The framework is of bamboo, bound together by
rattan; the roof timbers are of bamboo, while the sides of the house and
the thatch are made from the nipa tree. The sides look like mats. The
windows are of translucent shell, while the door is of nipa or wood.
These houses are usually about fifteen feet square, with one large room,
and are raised about six feet from the ground. Under the house is kept
the live stock. When the family has a horse or cow or carabao the house
is ten feet from the ground, and these animals are stabled underneath.
In nearly every house or yard may be found a game cock tied by the leg
to prevent him from roaming and fighting.

In most of the houses that the cars passed in the big native quarter of
Tondo, furniture was scanty. Usually the family has a large dresser,
which is ornamented with cheap pictures, and the walls are frequently
covered with prints in colors. There is no furniture, as the Filipino's
favorite position is to squat on his haunches. In many of the poorest
houses, however, were gramophones, which are paid for in monthly
installments of a dollar or two. The Filipinos are very fond of music,
and the cheap gramophones appeal to them strongly. Nearly every Filipino
plays some instrument by ear, and many boys from the country are expert
players on the guitar or mandolin. On large plantations the hands are
fond of forming bands and orchestras, and often their playing would do
credit to professional musicians. The Constabulary Band, recognized as
the finest in the Orient, has been drilled by an American negro named

In the Santa Mesa district are the houses of wealthy Filipinos. These
are usually of two stories, with the upper story projecting far over the
lower, and with many ornamental dormer windows, with casement sashes of
small pieces of translucent shell. In Manila the window is provided to
keep out the midday heat and glare of the sun. At other times the
windows are slid into the walls, and thus nearly the whole side of the
house is open to the cool night air. Many of these houses are finished
in the finest hardwoods, and not a few have polished mahogany floors.
Bamboo and rattan furniture may be seen in some of these houses, while
in others are dressers and wardrobes in the rich native woods. These
houses are embowered in trees, among which the magnolia, acacia and palm
are the favorites, with banana and pomelo trees heavy with fruit.

[Illustration: PLATE XVII

   A Glimpse of the Escolta,
     Manila. The Escolta,
       Only Four Blocks
  In Length, Is the Business
     Street in Manila.
   Clarke's, the Restaurant
     and Tea-House in the
      Foreground, Is the
      Favorite American
       Headquarters in

[Illustration: PLATE XVIII

  Old Church and Bridge
    at Pasig. Built of
    Massive Stone and
   Overgrown With Moss,
     This Bridge and
    Church Seems Older
  Than the Ancient Wall
       of Manila]

[Illustration: PLATE XIX

      The Binondo Canal, Which Intersects a
  Crowded District of Manila. The Picture Gives
      a Good Idea of the Cascoes or Native
                   Cargo Boats]

[Illustration: PLATE XX

     On the Malecon Drive, Manila.
  One of the Picturesque Roads, Lined
       With Feathery Palms, That
          Lead to the Luneta]

[Illustration: PLATE XXI

           View on a Manila Canal.
  This Gives a Good Idea of the Native Nipa
     Huts Along the Banks of the Canal,
          and a Bamboo Foot-bridge]

[Illustration: PLATE XXII

        A Filipino Peasant Girl on the
  Way to Market. She Wears the Native Costume
         With the Enormous Bamboo Hat.
           The Water Jar is Like the
             Spanish-American Olla]

[Illustration: PLATE XXIII

         The Carabao Cart in the Philippines.
  The Carabao or Water Buffalo is the Filipinos' Chief
     Beast of Burden. The Cart is Crude and Heavy,
          With a Home-made Yoke. The Buffalo
            is also Used for Ploughing and
                    Other Farm Work]

[Illustration: PLATE XXIV

     The Nipa Hut of the
   Filipino. This Style of
     House, With Bamboo
     Frame and Thatched
   Sides and Roof of Nipa
     Grass, Costs About
  Fifty Mex. or Twenty-Five
      Dollars in United
    States Gold Coin. It
      Is Usually About
     Six Feet From the



The entrance to the harbor of Hongkong is one of the most impressive in
the world. The steamer runs along by the mainland for several miles.
Then a great island is descried, covered with smelting works, huge
dockyards, great warehouses and other evidences of commercial activity.
This is the lower end of the island of Victoria, on which the city of
Hongkong has been built. The island was ceded by China to Great Britain
in 1842, after the conclusion of the opium war. It is separated from the
mainland of China by an arm of the sea, varying from one mile to five
miles in width. This forms the harbor of Hongkong, one of the most
spacious and picturesque in the world. It is crowded with steamers,
ferryboats, Chinese junks with queer-shaped sails of yellow matting,
sampans, trim steam launches and various other craft. As the vessel
passes beyond the smelting works and the dry docks it rounds a point and
the beauty of Hongkong is revealed.

The city is built at the foot of a steep hill nearly two thousand feet
in height. Along the crescent harbor front are ranged massive business
buildings with colonaded fronts and rows of windows. Behind the business
section the hills rise so abruptly that many of the streets are seen to
be merely rows of granite stairs. Still farther back are the homes of
Hongkong residents, beautiful stone or brick structures, which look out
upon the busy harbor. With a glass one can make out the cable railroad
which climbs straight up the mountainside for over one thousand feet and
then turns sharply to the right until the station is reached, about
thirteen hundred feet above sea level.

Hongkong differs radically from Yokohama, Tokio, Kobe, Nagasaki or
Manila, because of the blocks of solid, granite-faced buildings that
line its water front, each with its rows of Venetian windows, recessed
in balconies. This is the prevailing architecture for hotels, business
buildings and residences, while dignity is lent to every structure by
the enormous height between stories, the average being from fifteen to
eighteen feet. This impression of loftiness is increased by the use of
the French window, which extends from the floor almost to the ceiling,
all the windows being provided with large transoms.

The feature of Hongkong which impresses the stranger the most vividly is
the great mixture of races in the streets. Here for the first time one
finds the sedan chair, with two or four bearers. It is used largely in
Hongkong for climbing the steep streets which are impossible for the
jinrikisha. The bearers are low-class coolies from the country, whose
rough gait makes riding in a chair the nearest approach to horseback
exercise. The jinrikisha is also largely in evidence, but the bearers
are a great contrast in their rapacious manners to the courteous and
smiling Japanese in all the cities of the Mikado's land.

Queen's road, the main business street of Hongkong, furnishes an
extraordinary spectacle at any hour of the day. The roadway is lined
with shops, while the sidewalks, covered by the verandas of the second
stories of the buildings, form a virtual arcade, protected from the
fierce rays of the sun. These shops are mainly designed to catch the eye
of the foreigner, and they are filled with a remarkable collection of
silks, linens, ivories, carvings and other articles that appeal to the
American because of the skilled labor that has been expended upon them.
Carvings and embroidery that represent the work of months are sold at
such low prices as to make one marvel how anyone can afford to produce
them even in this land of cheap living.

The crowd that streams past these shops is even more curious than the
goods offered for sale. Here East and West meet in daily association.
The Englishman is easily recognized by his air of proprietorship,
although his usual high color is somewhat reduced by the climate. He has
stamped his personality on Hongkong and he has builded here for
generations to come. The German is liberally represented, and old
Hongkong residents bewail the fact that every year sees a larger number
of Emperor William's subjects intent on wresting trade from the British.
Frenchmen and other Europeans pass along this Queen's road, and the
American tourist is in evidence, intent on seeing all the sights as well
as securing the best bargains from the shopkeepers. All these foreigners
have modified their garb to suit the climate. They wear suits of white
linen or pongee with soft shirts, and the solar topi, or pith helmet,
which is a necessity in summer and a great comfort at other seasons. The
helmet keeps the head cool and shelters the nape of the neck, which
cannot be exposed safely to the sun's rays. Instead of giving health as
the California sun does, this Hongkong sunshine brings heat apoplexy and
fever. All the Orient is represented by interesting types. Here are rich
Chinese merchants going by in private chairs, with bearers in handsome
silk livery; Parsees from Bombay, with skins almost as black as those of
the American negro; natives of other parts of India in their
characteristic dress and their varying turbans; Sikh policemen, tall,
powerful men, who have a lordly walk and who beat and kick the Chinese
chair coolies and rickshaw men when they prove too insistent or
rapacious; Chinese of all classes, from the prosperous merchant to the
wretched coolie whose prominent ribs show how near he lives to actual
starvation in this overcrowded land; workmen of all kinds, many bearing
their tools, and swarms of peddlers and vendors of food, crying their
wares, with scores of children, many of whom lead blind beggars.
Everywhere is the noise of many people shouting lustily, the cries of
chair coolies warning the passersby to clear the way for their
illustrious patrons.

The Chinese seem unable to do anything without an enormous expenditure
of talk and noise. Ordinary bargaining looks like the beginning of a
fierce fight. Any trifling accident attracts a great crowd, which
becomes excited at the slightest provocation. It is easy to see from an
ordinary walk in this Hongkong street how panic or rage may convert the
stolid Chinese into a deadly maniac, who will stop at no outburst of
violence, no atrocity, that will serve to wreak his hatred of the

Although Hongkong has been Europeanized in its main streets, there are
quarters of the city only a few blocks away from the big hotels and
banks which give one glimpses of genuine native life. Some of these
streets are reached by scores of granite steps that climb the steep
mountainside. These streets are not over twelve or fifteen feet wide,
and the shops are mere holes in the wall, with a frontage of eight or
ten feet. Yet many of these dingy shops contain thousands of dollars'
worth of decorated silks and linens, artistic carvings, laces, curios
and many other articles of Chinese manufacture. Unlike the Japanese, who
will follow the tourist to the sidewalk and urge him to buy, these
Chinese storekeepers show no eagerness to make sales. They must be urged
to display their fine goods, and they cannot be hurried. The best time
to see these native streets is at night. Take a chair if the climate
overpowers you, but walk if you can. Then a night stroll through this
teeming quarter will always remain in the memory. Every one is working
hard, as in Japan, for the Chinese workday seems endless. All kinds of
manufacture are being carried on here in these narrow little shops; the
workers are generally stripped to the waist, wearing only loose short
trousers of cheap blue or brown cotton, the lamplight gleaming on their
sweating bodies. Here are goldsmiths beating out the jewelry for which
Hongkong is famous; next are scores of shops in all of which shoes are
being made; then follow workers in willow-ware and rattan, makers of
hats, furniture and hundreds of other articles. In every block is an
eating-house, with rows of natives squatted on benches, and with large
kettles full of evil-smelling messes. The crowds in the streets vie with
the crowds in the stores in the noise that they make; the air reeks with
the odors of sweating men, the smell of unsavory food, the stench of
open gutters. This panorama of naked bodies, of wild-eyed yellow faces
drawn with fatigue and heat passes before ones' eyes for an hour. Then
the senses begin to reel and it is time to leave this scene of Oriental
life that is far lower and more repulsive than the most crowded streets
in the terrible East Side tenement quarter of New York on a midsummer

Hongkong, both in the European and native quarters, is built to endure
for centuries. Most of the houses are of granite or plastered brick. The
streets are paved with granite slabs. Even the private residences have
massive walls and heavy roofs of red or black tile; the gardens are
screened from the street by high walls, with broken glass worked into
the mortar that forms the coping and with tall iron entrance gates.
These residences dot the side hill above the town. They are built upon
terraces, which include the family tennis court. The roads wind around
the mountainside, many of them quarried out of solid rock. All the
building material of these houses had to be carried up the steep
mountainside by coolies and, until the cable railway was finished, the
dwellers were borne to their homes at night by chair coolies.

This cable railway carries one nearly to the top of the peak back of
Hongkong, and from the station a short walk brings one to the summit,
where a wireless station is used to flash arrivals of vessels to the
city below. The view from this summit, and from the splendid winding
road which leads to the Peak Hospital, not far away, is one of the
finest in the world. The harbor, dotted with many ships and small boats,
the indented coast for a score of miles, the bare and forbidding Chinese
territory across the bay, the big city at the foot of the hill; all
these are spread out below like a great panorama.

The British are firmly entrenched at Hongkong. Not only have they actual
ownership of Victoria Island, on which Hongkong is built, but they have
a perpetual lease of a strip of the mainland across from the island,
extending back for over one hundred miles. The native city across the
bay is Kowloon, and is reached by a short ride on the new railroad
which will eventually connect Hankow with Paris. On the barren shore,
about a mile from Hongkong, has been founded the European settlement of
Kowloon City. It comprises a row of large warehouses, or godowns, a big
naval victualling station and coaling depot, large barracks for two
regiments of Indian infantry and several companies of Indian artillery,
with many fine quarters for European officers. The city in recent years
has become a favorite residence place for Hongkong business men, as it
is reached in a few minutes by a good ferry. Near by are the great naval
docks at Hunghom, extensive cement works and the deepest railway cut in
the world, the material being used to fill in the bay of Hunghom.


Every traveler who has seen the Orient will tell you not to miss Canton,
the greatest business center of China, the most remarkable city of the
empire, and among the most interesting cities of the world. It is only a
little over eighty miles from Hongkong, and if one wishes to save time
it may be reached by a night boat.

While in Manila I heard very disturbing reports of rioting in Canton and
possible bloodshed in the contest between the Manchus in control of the
army and the revolutionists. This rioting followed the assassination of
the Tartar general, who was blown up, with a score of his bodyguard, as
he was formally entering the city by the main south gate. When Hongkong
was reached these rumors of trouble became more persistent, and they
were given point by the arrival every day by boat and train of thousands
of refugees from Canton. Every day the bulletin boards in the Chinese
quarter contained dispatches from Canton, around which a swarm of
excited coolies gathered and discussed the news. One night came the news
that the Viceroy had acknowledged the revolutionists and had agreed to
surrender on the following day. This report was received with great
enthusiasm, and hundreds of dollars' worth of firecrackers were burned
to celebrate the success of the new national movement.

That night I left Hongkong on the Quong Si, one of the Chinese boats
that ply between Hongkong and Canton, under the British flag. A
half-dozen American tourists were also on the boat, including several

The trip up the estuary of the Pearl river that leads to Canton was made
without incident, and the boat anchored in the river opposite the
Shameen or foreign concession early in the morning, but the passengers
remained on board until about eight-thirty o'clock. The reports that
came from the shore were not reassuring. Guides who came out in sampans
said that there was only a forlorn hope of getting into the walled city,
as nearly all the gates had been closed for two days. They also brought
the alarming news that the Viceroy had reconsidered his decision of the
previous night and had sent word that he proposed to resist by force any
effort of the revolutionists to capture the city. The flag of the
revolution had also been hauled down and the old familiar yellow
dragon-flag hoisted in its place.

While waiting for the guide to arrange for chairs to take the party
through the city, we had a good opportunity to study the river life
which makes Canton unique among Chinese cities. Out of the total
population of over two millions, at least a quarter of a million live in
boats from birth to death and know no other home. Many of these boats
are large cargo junks which ply up and down the river and bring produce
to the great city market, but the majority are small sampans that house
one Chinese family and that find constant service in transferring
passengers and freight from one side of the river to the other, as well
as to and from the hundreds of steamers that call at the port. They have
a covered cabin into which the family retires at night.

These sampans are mainly rowed by women, who handle the boats with great
skill. A young girl usually plies the short oar on the bow, while her
mother, assisted by the younger children, works the large oar or sweep
in the stern. The middle of the sampan is covered by a bamboo house, and
in the forward part of this house the family has its kitchen fire and
all its arrangements for food. The passenger sits on the after seat near
the stern of the boat. These boats are scrubbed so that the woodwork
shines, and the backs of the seats are covered with fresh matting.

Looking out from the steamer one saw at least two miles of these small
sampans and larger craft massed along both shores of the river, which is
here about a half-mile wide. The foreign concession or Shameen is free
from these boats. It is really a sand spit, surrounded by water, which
was made over to the foreigners after the opium war.

North of the Shameen is the new western suburb of Canton, which has
recently been completed on European lines. It has a handsome bund,
finely paved, with substantial buildings facing the river. Close up
against this bund, and extending down the river bank for at least two
miles are ranged row on row of houseboats. Every few minutes a boat
darts out from the mass and is pulled to one of the ships in the stream.

Across the river and massed against the shore of Honam, the suburb
opposite Canton, is another tangle of sampans, with thousands of active
river folk, all shouting and screaming. These yellow thousands toiling
from break of day to late at night do not seem human; yet each boat has
its family life. The younger children are tied so that they cannot fall
overboard, and the older ones wear ingenious floats which will buoy
them up should they tumble into the water. Boys and girls four or five
years old assist in the working of the boat, while girls of twelve or
fourteen are experts in handling the oar and in using the long bamboo
boat hook that serves to carry the small craft out of the tangle of
river activity.


   The City of Boats at
  Canton. This Floating
    City in the Pearl
  River Opposite Canton
    Contains 250,000
  People, Many of Whom
     Never Venture
        On Land]

A type of river steamer which will amaze the American is an old
stern-wheeler run by man power. It is provided with a treadmill just
forward of the big stern wheel. Two or three tiers of naked, perspiring
coolies are working this treadmill, all moving with the accuracy and
precision of machinery. The irreverent foreigner calls these the
"hotfoot" boats, and in the land where a coolie may be hired all day for
forty cents Mexican or twenty cents in our coin this human power is far
cheaper than soft coal at five dollars a ton. These boats carry freight
and passengers and they move along at a lively pace.

After an hour spent in study of this strange river life I was fortunate
enough to go ashore with an American missionary whose husband was
connected with a large college across the river from Canton. She came
aboard in a sampan to take ashore two ladies from Los Angeles. She
invited me to accompany the party, and as she spoke Chinese fluently I
was glad to accept her offer. We went ashore in a sampan and at once
proceeded to visit the western suburb. This part of Canton has been
built in recent years and is somewhat cleaner than the old town. It is
separated from the Shameen by bridges which may be drawn up like an
ancient portcullis. Here we at once plunged into the thick of native
life. The streets, not over ten feet wide, were crowded with people.

We passed through streets devoted wholly to markets and restaurants, and
the spectacle was enough to keep one from ever indulging hereafter in
chop-suey. Here were tables spread with the intestines of various
animals, pork in every form, chickens and ducks, roasted and covered
with some preparation that made them look as though just varnished. Here
were many strange vegetables and fruits, and here, hung against the
wall, were row on row of dried rats. At a neighboring stall were several
small, flat tubs, in which live fish swam about, waiting for a customer
to order them knocked on the head. Then we passed into a street of curio
shops, but the grill work in front was closed and behind could be seen
the timid proprietors, who evidently did not mean to take any chances of
having their stores looted by robbers. For three or four days the most
valuable goods in all the Canton stores had been removed as rapidly as
possible. Thousands of bales of silk and tons of rare curios were
already safe in the foreign warehouses at the Shameen or had been
carried down the river to Hongkong. Often we had to flatten ourselves
against the sides of the street to give passage to chairs containing
high-class Chinese and their families, followed by coolies bearing the
most valuable of their possessions packed in cedar chests.

At an American hospital we were met by several young Englishmen
connected with medical and Young Men's Christian Association work. They
proposed a trip through the old walled city, but they refused to take
the two ladies, as they said it would be dangerous in the excited
condition of the people. So we set out, five in number. After a short
walk we reached one of the gates of the walled city, only to find it
closed and locked. A short walk brought us to a second gate, which was
opened readily by the Chinese guards, armed with a new type of German
army rifle. The walls of the old city were fully ten feet thick where
we entered, and about twenty feet high, made of large slabs of granite.

Once inside the city walls a great surprise awaited us. Instead of
crowded streets and the hum of trade were deserted streets, closed shops
and absolute desolation. For blocks the only persons seen were soldiers
and refugees making their way to the gates. In one fine residence
quarter an occasional woman peered through the front gates; in other
sections all the houses were closed and barred. Soon we reached the
Buddhist temple, known as the Temple of Horrors. Around the central
courtyard are grouped a series of booths, in each of which are wooden
figures representing the torture of those who commit deadly sins. In one
booth a victim is being sawed in two; in others poor wretches are being
garroted, boiled in oil, broken on the wheel and subjected to many other
ingenious tortures. At one end is an elaborate joss-house, with a great
bronze bell near by. In normal conditions this temple is crowded, and
true believers buy slips of prayers, which they throw into the booths to
ward off ill luck.

The rush of refugees grew greater as we penetrated toward the heart of
the city. On the main curio street the huge gilded signs hung as if in
mockery above shops which had been stripped of all their treasures.
Occasionally a restaurant remained open and these were crowded with
chair coolies, who were waiting to be engaged by some merchant eager to
escape from the city. Gone was all the life and bustle that my
companions said made this the most remarkable street in Canton. It was
like walking through a city of the dead, and it bore a striking
resemblance to San Francisco's business district on the day of the great
fire. At intervals we passed the yamens of magistrates, but the guards
and attaches were enjoying a vacation, as no court proceedings were
held. Progress became more and more difficult as the rush of refugees
increased and returning chair coolies clamored for passageway. The
latter had taken parties to the river boats and were coming back for
more passengers. As it became evident that we could not see the normal
life of the city, my companions finally urged that we return, as they
feared the gates might be closed against us, so we retraced our way,
this time taking the main street which led to the great south gate.

Not far from the gate we came on the scene of the blowing up of the
Tartar general. Seven shops on both sides of the street were wrecked by
the explosion. The heavy fronts were partly intact, but the interiors
were a mass of brick and charred timbers, for fire followed the
explosion. The general had waited several months to allow the political
excitement that followed his appointment to subside. He felt safe in
entering the city with a strong bodyguard, but not over one hundred
yards from the gate a bomb was thrown which killed the general
instantly, mangled a score of his retainers and killed over a dozen
Chinese bystanders. The revolutionists tried to clear the street so that
none of their own people should suffer, but they failed because of the
curiosity of the crowd.

Near by this place is the old Buddhist water clock, which for five
hundred years has marked the time by the drip of water from a hidden
spring. The masonry of this water-clock building looks very ancient, and
the clock is reached by several long flights of granite stairs.

After viewing the clock we reached the wall and passed through the big
south gates, which are fully six inches thick, of massive iron, studded
with large nails. Outside on the bund were drawn up several rapid-fire
guns belonging to Admiral Li, the efficient head of the Chinese navy at
Canton, who also had a score of trim little gunboats patrolling the
river. These boats had rapid-fire guns at bow and stern.

So we came back to the Canton hospital, where we had luncheon. After
this I made my way back to the steamer, to find her crowded with over
one thousand refugees from the old city, with their belongings. The
decks and even the dining saloon were choked with these people, and
during the two hours before the boat sailed at least three hundred more
passengers were taken on board. We sailed in the late afternoon and were
followed by four other river steamers, carrying in all over six thousand


Of all the places in the Orient, the most cosmopolitan is Singapore, the
gateway to the Far East; the one city which everyone encircling the
globe is forced to visit, at least for a day. Hongkong streets may have
seemed to present an unparalleled mixture of races; Canton's narrow
alleys may have appeared strange and exotic; but Singapore surpasses
Honkong in the number and picturesqueness of the races represented in
its streets, as it easily surpasses Canton in strange sights and in
swarming toilers from many lands that fill the boats on its canals and
the narrow, crooked streets that at night glow with light and resound
with the clamor of alien tongues.

Singapore is built on an island which adjoins the extreme end of the
Malay Peninsula. It is about sixty miles from the equator, and it has a
climate that varies only a few degrees from seventy during the entire
year. This heat would not be debilitating were it not for the extreme
humidity of the atmosphere. To a stranger, especially if he comes from
the Pacific Coast, the place seems like a Turkish bath. The slightest
physical exertion makes the perspiration stand out in beads on the face.

Singapore has a population of over three hundred thousand people; it has
a great commercial business, which is growing every year; it already has
the largest dry dock in the world. Its bund is not so imposing as that
of Hongkong, but it has more public squares and its government buildings
are far more handsome. As Hongkong owes much of its splendid
architecture and its air of stability to Sir Paul Chator, so Singapore
owes its spacious avenues, its fine buildings, its many parks, its
interesting museum and its famous botanical gardens to Sir Stamford
Raffles, one of the British empire-builders who have left indelibly
impressed on the Orient their genius for founding cities and
constructing great public enterprises. Yet, Singapore, with far more
business than Manila, is destitute of a proper sewer system, and the
streets in its native quarters reek with foul odors.

The feature of Singapore that first impresses the stranger is the
variety of races seen in any of the streets, and this continues to
impress him so long as he remains in the city. My stay in Singapore was
four days, due to the fact that it was necessary to wait here for the
departure of the British West India Company's steamer for Rangoon and
Calcutta. In jinrikishas and pony carts I saw all quarters of the town,
and my wonder grew every day at the remarkable show of costumes
presented by the different races. One day, late in the afternoon, I sat
down on a coping of the wall that surrounds a pretty park on Orchard
road, and in the space of a half hour watched the moving show that
passed by. At this hour all Singapore takes its outing to the Botanical
Gardens, and one may study the people who have leisure and money.

The favorite rig is still the victoria drawn by high-stepping horses,
with coachman and postilion, but the automobile is evidently making
rapid strides in popular favor, despite the fact that the heavy, humid
air makes the odor of gasoline cling to the roadway. A high-class Arab,
with his keen, intellectual face, rides by with a bright Malay driving
the machine. Then comes a fat and prosperous-looking Parsee in his
carriage, followed by a rich Chinese merchant arrayed in spotless white,
seated in a motor car, his family about him, and some relative or
servant at the wheel. Along moves a rickshaw with an East Indian woman,
the sun flashing on the heavy gold rings in her ears, while a carriage
follows with a pretty blonde girl with golden hair, seated beside her
Chinese ayah, or nurse. A score of young Britons come next in rickshaws,
some carrying tennis racquets, and others reading books or the afternoon
paper. The rickshaws here, unlike those of Japan or China, carry two
people. They are pulled by husky Chinese coolies, who have as remarkable
development of the leg muscles as their Japanese brothers, with far
better chests. In fact, the average Chinese rickshaw coolie of Singapore
is a fine physical type, and he will draw for hours with little show of
suffering a rickshaw containing two people. The pony cart of Singapore
is another unique institution. It is a four-wheeled cart, seating four
people, drawn by a pony no larger than the average Shetland. The driver
sits on a little box in front, and at the end of the wagon is a basket
in which rests the pony's allowance of green grass for the day. The pony
cart is popular with parties of three or four and, as most of
Singapore's streets are level, the burden on the animal is not severe.

This moving procession of the races goes on until eleven-thirty o'clock,
the popular dinner hour all along the Chinese coast. It is varied by the
occasional appearance of a bullock cart, which has probably changed very
little in hundreds of years. The bullocks have a pronounced hump at the
shoulders, and are of the color and size of a Jersey cow. The neckyoke
is a mere bar of wood fastened to the pole, and the cart is heavy and
ungainly. Nowhere in Singapore does one find coolies straining at huge
loads as in China and Japan, as this labor is given over to bullocks.
Here, however, both men and women carry heavy burdens on their heads,
while the Chinese use the pole and baskets, so familiar to all

The Malays and East Indians furnish the most picturesque feature of all
street crowds. The Malays, dark of skin, with keen faces, wear the
sarong, a skirt of bright-colored silk or cotton wrapped about the loins
and falling almost to the shoe. The sarong is scant and reminds one
strongly of the hobble-skirt, as no Malay is able to take a full stride
in it. The skirt and jacket of the Malay may vary, but the sarong is
always of the same style, and the brighter the color the more it seems
to please the wearer. The East Indians are of many kinds. The Sikhs, who
are the police of Hongkong, here share such duty with Tamils from
southern India and some Chinese.

No Malay is ever seen in any low, menial employment. The Malay is well
represented on the electric cars, where he serves usually as conductor
and sometimes as motorman. He is also an expert boatman and fisherman.
He is very proud and is said to be extremely loyal to foreigners who
treat him with justice and consideration. The Malay, however, can not be
depended on for labor on the rubber or cocoanut plantations, as he will
not work unless he can make considerable money. Ordinary wages do not
appeal to a man in a country where eight cents is the cost of
maintenance on rice and fish, with plenty of tea. The Malay is a
gentleman, even when in reduced circumstances, and he must be treated
with consideration that would be lost or wasted on the ordinary Chinese.

The Chinese occupy a peculiar position in Singapore. It is the only
British crown colony in which the Chinese is accorded any equality with
white men. Here in the early days the Chinese were welcomed not only for
their ability to do rough pioneer work, but because of their commercial
ability. From the outset they have controlled the trade with their
countrymen in the Malayan States, while at the same time they have
handled all the produce raised by Chinese. They have never done much in
the export trade, nor have they proved successful in carrying on the
steamship business, because they can not be taught the value of keeping
vessels in fine condition and of catering to the tastes of the foreign
traveling public. On the other hand, the great Chinese merchants of
Singapore have amassed large fortunes and have built homes which surpass
those of rich Europeans. On Orchard road, which leads to the Botanical
Gardens, are several Chinese residences which excite the traveler's
wonder, because of the beauty of the buildings and grounds and the
lavishness of ornament and decorations. These merchants, whose names are
known throughout the Malay States and as far as Hongkong and Manila,
represent the Chinese at his best, freed from all restrictions and
permitted to give his commercial genius full play.


The Chinese element in Singapore is so overwhelming that it arrests the
attention of the most careless tourist, but no one appreciates the
enormous number of the Mongolians in Singapore until he visits the
Chinese and Malay districts at night. With a friend I started out one
night about eight o'clock. It was the first night in Singapore that one
could walk with any comfort. We went down North Bridge road, one of the
main avenues on which an electric car line runs. After walking a
half-mile we struck off to the right where the lights were bright. Just
as soon as we left the main avenue we began to see life as it is in
Singapore after dark. The first native street was devoted to small
hawkers, who lined both sides of the narrow thoroughfare. Each had about
six feet of space, and each had his name and his number as a licensed
vender. The goods were of every description and of the cheapest quality.
They had been brought in small boxes, and on these sat the Chinese
merchant and frequently his wife and children. A flare or two from cheap
nut oil illuminated the scene.

Passing in front of these stands was a constantly moving crowd of
Chinese, Malays and East Indians of many races, all chaffering and
talking at the top of their voices. At frequent intervals were street
tea counters, where food was sold, evidently at very low prices. Ranged
along on benches were men eating rice and various stews that were taken
piping hot from kettles resting on charcoal stoves. One old Chinese
woman had a very condensed cooking apparatus. Over two small braziers
she had two copper pots, each divided into four compartments and in each
of these different food was cooking.

Back of the street peddlers were the regular stores, all of which were
open and apparently doing a good business. As in Hongkong, the Chinese
workmen labor until ten or eleven o'clock at night, even carpenters and
basket-makers working a full force by the light of gas or electricity.
The recent events in China had their reflex here. All the makers of
shirts and clothing were feverishly busy cutting up and sewing the new
flag of the revolution. Long lines of red and blue bunting ran up and
down these rooms, and each workman was driving his machine like mad,
turning out a flag every few minutes. The fronts of most of these stores
were decorated with flags of the revolution.

The most conspicuous places of business on these streets were the large
restaurants, where hundreds of Chinese were eating their chow at small
tables. The din was terrific, and the lights flashing on the naked
yellow skins, wet with perspiration, made a strange spectacle. Next to
these eating houses in number were handsomely decorated places in which
Chinese women plied the most ancient trade known to history. Some of
these women were very comely, but few were finely dressed, as in this
quarter cheapness seemed to be the rule in everything. Around some of
these places crowds of Chinese gathered and exchanged comment apparently
on attractive new arrivals in these resorts of vice. Many of the inmates
were young girls, fourteen or sixteen years old.

Less numerous than these houses were the opium dens, scattered
throughout all these streets. These haunts of the drug that enslaves
were long and narrow rooms, with a central passage and a long, low
platform on each side. This platform was made of fine hardwood, and by
constant use shone like old mahogany. Ranged along on these platforms
wide enough for two men, facing each other and using a common lamp, were
scores of opium smokers. As many as fifty men could be accommodated in
each of these large establishments. The opium was served as a sticky
mass, and each man rolled some of it on a metal pin and cooked it over
the lamp. When cooked, the ball of opium was thrust into a small hole in
the bamboo opium pipe. Then the smoker, lying on his side, drew the
flame of the lamp against this opium and the smoke came up through the
bamboo tube of the pipe and was inhaled. One cooking of opium makes
never more than three whiffs of the pipe, sometimes only two. The effect
on the novice is very exhilarating, but the seasoned smoker is forced to
consume more and more of the drug to secure the desired effect. In one
of these dens we watched a large Chinese prepare his opium. He took only
two whiffs, but the second one was so deep that the smoke made the tears
run out of his eyes. His companion was so far under the influence of the
drug that his eyes were glazed and he was staring at some vision called
up by the powerful narcotic. One old Chinese, seeing our interest in the
spectacle, shook his head and said: "Opium very bad for Chinaman; make
him poor; make him weak." Further along in this quarter we came upon
several huge Chinese restaurants, ablaze with light and noisy with
music. We were told that dinners were being given in honor of
revolutionist victories.

In all our night ramble through the Chinese and Malay quarters of
Singapore we saw not a single European, yet we met only courteous
treatment everywhere, and our curiosity was taken as a compliment.
Singapore is well policed by various races, among which the Sikhs and
Bengali predominate. An occasional Malay is met acting as a police
officer, but it is evident that such work does not appeal to the native
of the Straits Settlements.

On our return to the hotel we crossed a large estuary which is spanned
by several bridges. Here were hundreds of small boats moored to the
shore, the homes of thousands of river people. This business of
transportation on the water is in the hands of the Malays, who are most
expert boatmen. It is a pleasure to watch one of these men handle a huge
cargo boat. With his large oar he will scull rapidly, while his
assistant uses a long pole.

One of the sights of Singapore is the Botanical Gardens, about three and
one-half miles from town. The route is along Orchard road and Tanglin
road, two beautiful avenues that are lined with comfortable bungalows of
Europeans, and magnificent mansions of Chinese millionaires. The gardens
occupy a commanding position overlooking the surrounding country, and
they have been laid out with much skill. The drives are bordered with
ornamental trees from all lands. The most beautiful of all the palms is
the Traveler's tree from Madagascar. It is a palm the fronds of which
grow up like a regular fan. At a little distance it looks like a
peacock's tail spread to the full extent. It is so light, graceful and
feathery that it satisfies the eye as no other palm does. Of other palms
there are legion, from the Mountain Cabbage palm of the West Indies to
endless varieties from Malay, Madagascar and western Africa.


One of the characteristic sights of Rangoon is that of the big Siamese
elephants piling teak in the lumber yards along Rangoon river. It is the
same sight that Kipling pictured in the lines in his perfect ballad,
_Mandalay_, which an Englishman who knows his Burma well says is "the
finest ballad in the world, with all the local color wrong."

These lumber yards are strung along the river, but are easily reached by
an electric car. Several are conducted by Chinese, but the finest yard
is in charge of the government. At the first Chinese yard was the
largest elephant in the city, a huge animal fifty-five years old, with
great tusks admirably fitted for lifting large logs. A dozen tourists
were grouped about the yard in the early morning, for these elephants
are only worked in the morning and evening hours, when it is cool. An
East Indian coolie was mounted on his back, or rather just back of his
ears, with his legs dangling loose. With his naked feet he indicated
whether the elephant was to go to the right or left, and when he wished
to emphasize an order he hit the beast a blow upon the head with a heavy
steel rod.

Much of the work which this elephant did was spectacular, as it showed
the enormous strength of the animal as well as his great intelligence.
He took up on his tusks a log of teak, the native wood of this country,
as hard as hickory and much heavier, and, with the aid of his trunk,
stood with it at attention until every camera fiend had taken his
picture. Then his driver made the huge beast move a large log of teak
from a muddy hole by sheer force of the head and neck. The animal
dropped almost to his knees, and then putting forth all his strength he
actually pushed the log, which weighed about a ton and one-half, through
the mud up to the gangplank of the saw. Then he piled several huge logs
one upon the other, to show his skill in this work.

Leaving this yard the party walked about a half-mile through trails,
with marshy land on each side, to the big government timber yard. Here
were thousands of logs which had been cut far up in the teak forests of
the interior, dragged through the swamps of the Irrawaddy by elephants,
then floated down the great river to Rangoon. All the logs in this yard
were marked with a red cross to signify that they belonged to the
government. Down by the river shore, where the ground was so soft that
their feet sank deep into the slimy mud, were five elephants engaged in
hauling logs up from the river to the dry ground near the shore.

The chief object of interest in Rangoon is the great Shwe Dagon pagoda,
which dominates the whole city. Its golden summit may be seen for many
miles gleaming above dull green masses of foliage. This pagoda is the
center of the Buddhist faith, as it is said to contain veritable relics
of Gautama as well as of the three Buddhas who came before him.
Thousands of pilgrims from all parts of Burmah, Siam, Cochin-China,
Korea, Ceylon and other Oriental countries visit the pagoda every year
and their offerings at the various shrines amount to millions of
dollars. The pagoda differs absolutely from the temples of Japan and
China in form, material and the arrangement of lesser shrines; but its
impressiveness is greatly injured by the presence of hundreds of
hucksters, who sell not only curios and souvenirs of the pagoda, but
food and drink.

The pagoda, which is about two miles from the business center of
Rangoon, is built upon a mound. The circumference is thirteen hundred
and fifty-five feet and the total height from the base is three hundred
and seventy feet. It is constructed in circular style, its concentric
rings gradually lessening in size until the top is reached. This is
surmounted by a gilt iron work or "ti" on which little bells are hung.
This "ti" was a gift from the late king of Burmah, who spent a quarter
of a million dollars on its decoration with gold and precious stones.
The mound on which the pagoda stands is divided into two rectangular
terraces. The upper terrace, nine hundred feet by six hundred and
eighty-five, is one hundred and sixty-six feet above the level of the
ground. The ascent is by three flights of brick stairs, the fourth
flight at the back being closed to permit of the building of
fortifications by which the English may defend the pagoda in any
emergency. The southern or main entrance is made conspicuous by two
enormous leogryphs, which are of plastered brick.

Up these steep stairs the visitor climbs, pestered by loathsome beggars
and importuned on every hand to buy relics, flowers and articles of gold
and silver. One would fancy he was in a great bazar rather than in the
entrance hall of the finest monument in the world erected in honor of
Buddha. The four chapels ranged around the rectangular terrace are
ornamented by figures of the sitting Buddha. Then one visits a score of
magnificently decorated shrines, in which are Buddhas in every variety
of position. In one is the reclining Gautama in alabaster, in whose
honor the pagoda was built. In others are Gautamas of brass, ivory,
glass, clay and wood. Before many of these shrines candles are burning
and devotees are seated or are praying with their faces bowed to the
stone pavement. On one side of the platform is a row of miniature
pagodas, all encrusted with decoration of gold and precious stones, the
gifts of thousands of pious devotees. Among these shrines are many small
bells which are rung by worshippers when they deposit their offerings,
and one great bell (the third largest in the world, weighing forty-two
and one-fourth tons), given by King Tharrawaddy.

The eyes of the visitor are wearied with the splendid decoration of the
chapels, the gilding, the carving, the inlaid glass work. It seems as
though there was no end to the rows on rows of Buddhas in every
conceivable position. Interspersed among them are tall poles from which
float long streamers of bamboo bearing painted historical pictures,
including those of the capture of the pagoda by the British. Thousands
crowd these platforms. Some offer gifts to various shrines, others say
prayer after prayer, still others strike bells to give warning to evil
spirits that they have offered up their petitions to Buddha, others hang
eagerly on the words of fortune tellers. All buy food and drink and the
whole place suggests in its good cheer a country picnic rather than a
pilgrimage to the greatest Buddhist shrine in the world.

When one has left the pagoda he bears the memory of magnificent
decorations, of vast crowds, but of little real reverence. The great
golden pagoda itself is the dominating feature in every view of Rangoon,
just as the Washington monument dominates all other structures in

[Illustration: PLATE XXV

      Queen's Road in
   Hongkong. This is One
   of the Most Picturesque
   Streets in the Orient,
   With Large Stores and
  Splendid Gilded Signs on
  Each Side. The Buildings
     Are so Constructed
     That the Sidewalk
      Becomes a Shaded

[Illustration: PLATE XXVI

    Flower Market in a
   Hongkong Street--One
     of the Prettiest
  Sights in Hongkong, as
  Orchids, Irises, Lilies
  and Other Blossoms Are
     Always on Sale]

[Illustration: PLATE XXVII

    Coolies Carrying
  Burdens at Hongkong.
  Chinese Coolies Using
   the Bamboo Pole Are
    a Common Sight in
  Hongkong. They Carry
    Several Hundred
   Pounds, Moving at
      a Dog Trot]

[Illustration: PLATE XXVIII

  The Spacious Foreign
    Bund at Hongkong,
  With the Row of Lofty
   Business Buildings.
   The Ferry Takes One
     to Kowloon, the
  Native City, Opposite

[Illustration: PLATE XXIX

      Chinese Junks in
   Hongkong Harbor, These
     Junks, With Their
  Curious Sails of Matting
     and Bamboo Spars,
      Form One of the
     Features of Every
     Chinese Harbour or
          Sea View]

[Illustration: PLATE XXX

  View of the Water-front
  at Canton. This General
     View of the Pearl
   River and the Canton
   Bund, or Water-front,
    Shows the Enormous
   Floating Population
      on the River]

[Illustration: PLATE XXXI

   The New Chinese Bund
  at Canton. The Chinese
    Recently Completed
        This Bund.
  It Contrasts Strongly
     With the Ancient
  Walled City, a Stone's
    Throw in the Rear]

[Illustration: PLATE XXXII

 A Confucian Festival at
  Singapore. This Shows
  the Elaborate Street
     Decorations to
     Commemorate the
      Festival of
    Confucius in the
    Chinese Quarter]

[Illustration: PLATE XXXIII

  A Main Street in the
   Native Quarter of
  Singapore. The Shops
   Are Small and the
  Shopkeepers Live in
  the Rooms Above. The
  Flags Displayed Are
    Those of the New
    Chinese Republic]

[Illustration: PLATE XXXIV

      The Y. M. C. A.
  Building at Singapore.
  This Fine Structure Has
   Many Counterparts in
    the Chief Oriental
    Cities, Where the
  Association is Doing a
       Great Work]

[Illustration: PLATE XXXV

          The Great Shwe Dagon Pagoda at Rangoon.
  The Finest Buddhist Temple in all Indo-China, Containing
     Alleged Relics of Gautama. It is Gilded from Base
       to Summit and May be Seen Forty Miles at Sea]

[Illustration: PLATE XXXVI

        Entrance to the Shwe Dagon Pagoda.
  On Each Side is an Enormous Leogryph, Built of
       Brick and Covered With Plaster. The
           Porch Has a Superbly Carved

[Illustration: PLATE XXXVII

    Worshipping Before
  Shrine in the Pagoda at
  Rangoon. These Figures,
     Mainly Women and
    Children, Show the
   National Dress. Note
      the Richness of
     Decoration of the

[Illustration: PLATE XXXVIII

   Riverside Scene at
  Rangoon. Here Are the
   Native Cargo Boats
  Which Bring Rice and
   Other Products Down
     the Irrawaddy.
   Rangoon Has a Trade
   Second Only to That
     of Calcutta and

[Illustration: PLATE XXXIX

  Trained Elephant Piling
     Teak at Rangoon.
    This Is One of the
    Great Sights of the
   Orient. The Elephants
    Work in the Lumber
      Yards Along the
   Water-front and Lift
     Logs That Weigh
     One and One-Half

[Illustration: PLATE XL

         Palm Avenue, Royal Lakes, Rangoon.
  This Characteristic View is From a Pretty Park in
     Rangoon. It Shows the Summit of the Pagoda
                  in the Distance]



Calcutta, the great commercial port of northern India and the former
capital of the Empire, is the most beautiful Oriental city, not even
excepting Hongkong. Its main claim to this distinction is the possession
of the famous Maidan or Esplanade, which runs along the Hoogly river for
nearly two miles and which far surpasses the Luneta of Manila in
picturesqueness. The Maidan is three-quarters of a mile wide at its
beginning and it broadens out to one and one-quarter miles in width at
its lower end. Government House, the residence of the Viceroy, is
opposite the northern end of the Maidan, while at the southern end is
Belvedere, the headquarters of the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal. With
historic Fort William on one side and most of the large hotels, the big
clubs and the Imperial Museum on the other, the Maidan is really the
center of all civic life. At the southeast end is the race course; not
far away is the fine cathedral. Near by are the beautiful Eden Gardens
(the gift of the sisters of the great Lord Auckland), which are
noteworthy for the Burmese pagoda, transported from Prome and set up
here on the water's edge. It is seldom that a city is laid out on such
magnificent lines as is Calcutta. It reminds one of Washington in its
picturesque boulevards and avenues, all finely shaded with noble mango
trees. And it also has the distinction of green turf even in the heat
of summer, owing to the heavy dews that refresh the grass like showers.

Calcutta is associated in the minds of most readers with the infamous
Black Hole into which one hundred and forty-six wretched white people
were crowded on a hot night of June in 1750 and out of which only
twenty-three emerged alive on the following morning. The Black Hole was
the regimental jail of old Fort William and its site is now marked by a
pavement of black marble and a tablet adjoining the fine postoffice
building, while across the street is an imposing monument to the memory
of the victims, whose names are all enumerated. The hole was twenty-two
by fourteen feet, while it was only eighteen feet in height. These
prisoners who were flung into this little jail were residents of
Calcutta who fell into the hands of the Nawab of Murshedabad. Calcutta
is also famous as the birthplace of Thackeray, a bust of whom ornaments
the art gallery of the Imperial Museum. Scattered about the Maidan are
statues of a dozen men whose deeds have shed luster on English arms or

Calcutta, as the first city of India that I had seen, impressed me very
strongly, although the native life has been colored somewhat by contact
with British and other Europeans. Here, for the first time, one sees
ninety-nine out of one hundred people in the streets wearing turbans.
Here also the women mingle freely in the streets, wearing long robes
which they wind dexterously about their bodies, leaving the lower legs
and the right arm bare. A few cover the face, but the great majority
leave it exposed. Many are hideously disfigured by large nose rings,
while others have small rings or jewels set in one nostril. Nearly every
woman wears bracelets on arms and wrists, heavy anklets and, in many
cases, massive gold or silver rings on the big toes. In some cases what
look like heavy necklaces are wound several times around the ankles. It
is the custom of the lower and middle classes not to put their savings
in a bank, but to melt down the coin and make it into bracelets or other
ornaments, which are worn by their women. Here in Calcutta also one sees
for the first time hundreds of men and women wearing the marks of their
caste on their foreheads, either painted in red or marked in white with
the ash of cow dung.

Although the main streets of Calcutta are distinctly European, a walk of
a few blocks in any direction from the main business section will bring
you into the native or the Chinese quarter, where the streets are
narrow, the houses low between stories and the shops mere holes in the
wall, with only a door for ventilation. In one quarter every store is
kept by a Chinese and here a large amount of manufacturing is done. In
other quarters natives are carrying on all kinds of manufacture, in the
same primitive way that they worked two thousand years ago. The
carpenter uses tools that are very much like those in an American boy's
box of toy tools; the shoemaker does all the work of turning out a
finished shoe from the hide of leather on his wall. Outside these stores
in the street the most common beast of burden is a small bullock of the
size and color of a Jersey cow; These little animals pull enormous
loads, and they are so clever that when they see an electric car
approaching they will start on the run and clear the track.

Many of the houses in the native quarter of Calcutta are built of adobe,
with earthen tiles, which make them bear a strong resemblance to the
adobe dwellings of the Spanish-Californians before the American
occupation. In many cases very little straw is used in this adobe, for
the walls have frequently crumbled away under the heavy rains of winter.
Other houses are built of brick, faced with plaster, which is either
painted or whitewashed.

What impresses any visitor is the squalor and the wretchedness of these
homes of India's poor. The clothing of a whole family is not worth one
American dollar, while about ten cents in our money will feed a family
of four. The houses have no furniture, except a bed of the most
primitive pattern, made of latticed reeds; the smoke from the cooking
fire goes up through the roof or else finds its way out the open door;
seldom are there any windows, all the air coming in at the open door;
the floor of the house is of dirt and on this squat father and mother
and the children, with the family goat. In the small shops work is
carried on seven days in the week until nine or ten o'clock at night,
with an hour for lunch and siesta at midday. The hopelessness of the lot
of the Hindoo (who is bound by rigid caste rules to follow in the
footsteps of his father) can never be appreciated until one has seen him
here in his native land.

For two hours I watched scores of natives taking a wash at the large,
free bathing ghat near the pontoon bridge. On the river front is a
restaurant, and back of this steps lead down to a spacious platform on
the level of the river. A score of men and boys and one woman were
taking a bath in the dirty water, which was thick with mud washed up by
passing steamers. A few of these bathers had rented towels from an
office on the stairs, but the great majority simply rubbed themselves
with their hands and then dried in the sun. All washed their faces in
the dirty water and rinsed their mouths with it. The men took off their
loin clothes and washed these out, then wrapped them about their bodies
and came out dripping water. The lone woman was very fat. She waded into
the water and when she came out her thin robe clung to her massive form
revealing all its curves. She calmly took a seat on the stairs and
proceeded to massage her head.

The most interesting place near Calcutta is the Royal Botanical Gardens,
situated on the opposite side of the river and about six miles from
town. These gardens were laid out in 1786 and they vie with the botanic
gardens at Singapore in the variety of trees and shrubs from all parts
of the tropics. Here is the great banyan tree which covers one thousand
square feet and is one hundred and forty-two years old. At a height of
five and one-half feet from the ground the circumference of the main
trunk is fifty-one feet; the height is eighty-five feet, while it has
five hundred and seventy aerial roots, which have actually taken root in
the ground. The tree at a little distance looks like a small grove.

The Imperial Museum at Calcutta is well worth a couple of hours, for it
contains one of the finest collections of antiquities in the Orient. The
museum is housed in an enormous building facing the Maidan, which has a
frontage of three hundred feet and a depth of two hundred and seventy
feet. In the ethnological gallery are arranged figures of all the native
races of India with their costumes; agricultural implements, fishing and
hunting appliances, models of Indian village life, specimens of ancient
and modern weapons and many other exhibits. Another room that will repay
study is a gallery containing old steel and wood engravings of the great
characters in the mutiny, with busts of Clive, Havelock, Outram and
Nicholson, and with a life-size bust of Thackeray.


It is estimated that one million pilgrims visit the sacred city of
Benares every year, and it is these pilgrims that furnish the largest
income which the city receives from any source. Here are the most holy
shrines of Buddhism; here Vishnu and Siva have their strongholds, and
here must come Hindoos from all parts of India to bathe in the sacred
waters of the Ganges and to offer up prayers at the many holy shrines in
the city's temples.

Benares is sacred because here Buddha first made his residence. The
place that he selected was ancient Sarnath, six miles from Benares,
which is now a heap of ruins, in which British government experts are
delving for remains of the great city that was founded six centuries
before the Christian era. At Sarnath Buddha built a great temple and
founded a school from which his disciples spread to all parts of India.
But after 750 A.D. Buddhism disappeared gradually from India, and
Hindooism took its place. The fine temples that now line the Ganges for
three miles were built by Maratha princes in the seventeenth century.
They also built the scores of bathing ghats that now furnish one of the
most picturesque spectacles that the world affords. A ghat in Hindustani
is a stone stairway that leads down to the water, and Benares has a
succession of these magnificent stairways leading down to the Ganges,
overlooked by palaces of many Maharajas and temples built by rulers and
priests. No sight more splendid could be conceived than that of these
domes and minarets flashing in the rays of the early morning sun while
thousands of devout believers crowd the bathing ghats and offer prayers
to Vishnu, after they have bathed in the waters of the Ganges; and
mourning relatives burn the bodies of their dead after these have had
the sacred water poured over their faces.


     Hindoos Bathing in the Ganges at Benares.
  This is a View of the Dasaswamedh Ghat, the Most
   Popular Bathing Place in the Sacred City. Note
       the Holy Men Under the Umbrellas, Who
            Take Tribute of All Bathers]

The visitor who wishes to see the pious Hindoos bathe in the Ganges goes
to the river in the early morning soon after the sun has risen. He
descends one of the large ghats and takes a boat, in which he may be
rowed down the river past the bathing ghats and the one ghat where the
dead are burned. The scene is one that will never be forgotten. Against
the clear sky is outlined a succession of domes and spires that mark the
position of a score of sacred shrines, with two slender minarets that
rise from the mosque built by the great Moslem Emperor, Aurunzeb. The
sunlight flashes on these domes and spires and it lights up thousands of
bathing floats and stands that line the muddy banks of the river. The
floats are dotted with hundreds of bathers and the number of these
increases every few minutes. They come by hundreds down the great stone
stairways to their favorite bathing places, where, after a thorough
bath, they may be shaved or massaged or may listen to the expounding of
the Hindoo sacred books by a learned Brahmin sitting in the shade of a
huge umbrella. A characteristic feature of this hillside is the number
of these large umbrellas, each of which marks the place of a priest or a
holy man who has done some marvels of penance that give him a strong
hold on the superstitious natives and induce them to pay him well for
prayers or a sacred talisman.

With my boat moored near the bank and directly opposite the Manikarnika
ghat, the favorite place on the river, I watched the stream of bathers
for nearly an hour. The fanatical devotion that will induce a reasonable
human being to bathe in the waters of the Ganges seems incredible to
anyone from the Western World. The water of the sacred river is here of
the consistency of pea soup. The city's sewer pipes empty into the
Ganges just above the bathing ghats, and the current carries this filth
directly to the place which the Hindoos have selected for their rites.
The water is not only muddy and unclean, but it offends the nose. Yet
Hindoos of good family bathe here side by side with the poverty
stricken. They use the mud of the Ganges in lieu of soap; they scrub
their bodies thoroughly, and then they actually take this foul-smelling
water in their mouths and clean their teeth with it. This creed of
Buddha is a pure democracy, for there is no distinction of class in
bathing. Women bathe by the side of men, although they remain covered
with the gauze-like garments that are a sop to modesty.

The Manikarnika ghat is the most picturesque of all these bathing places
along the Ganges, as the long flight of stone steps is in good
preservation and the background of temples and palaces satisfies the
eye. The river front for thirty feet is densely crowded with bathers who
stand on small floats or go into the shallow water. With a Western crowd
so dense as this there would be infringments of individual rights that
would lead to quarrels and fights, but the Hindoo is slow to anger, and,
like the Japanese, he has great courtesy for his fellows. Hundreds
bathed at the ghat while I watched them and no trouble ensued. Nothing
could be more striking, nothing more Oriental than the picture of scores
of bathers, in bright-hued garments, moving up and down these long
flights of massive steps. In the background were a half-dozen temples,
the most noteworthy of which is the red-domed temple of the Rajah of
Amethi, whose beautiful palace overlooks this scene. Near the water is a
curious leaning temple, whose foundations were evidently unsettled by
the severe earthquake which destroyed several temples farther down the

The busiest men on these bathing ghats are the Hindoo priests, who reap
a harvest from the hundreds of pilgrims who visit the ghats during the
day. These priests cannot be escaped by the poorest Hindoo. They levy
toll from every one who descends these long flights of stairs. One
fellow I watched as he sat under his great umbrella. He had his sacred
books spread before him, but he was given no leisure for reading them,
as a constant stream of clients passed before him. Some of these were
regular daily visitors from Benares, who pay a certain rate every week
or every month, according to their financial standing. Others were
pilgrims who, in their enthusiasm over the sacred Ganges (which they had
traveled hundreds of miles to bathe in), were not careful in regard to
their fees. Others were mourning relatives who applied for prayers for
the corpse which they had brought to the waterside, and still others
demanded hurried prayers for the dying, whose last breath would be drawn
by the bank of the sacred river. Incidentally the priests sold charms
and amulets guaranteed to bring good fortune. Most of the payments were
in copper pice, four of which make one of our cents, but many of these
priests had great heaps of this coin in front of them, showing that
though India may be suffering from a bad harvest the faker may always
feed on the fat of the land.

The spectacle, however, which stamps Benares upon the memory is the
burning of the dead at a ghat by the Ganges. This ghat is reserved
exclusively for the cremation of Hindoo dead. No Mussulman can use it.
It was about eight o'clock in the morning when my boat reached this
burning ghat. Already one body had been placed on a funeral pyre of
wood. The guide said this body was that of a poor man who had no
relatives or friends, as the place where the relatives sit until the
cremation is complete was empty. Soon, however, two men came rushing
down the stone steps with a corpse strapped to a bamboo stretcher. The
body was that of a woman, dressed in red garments, which signified that
she was a married woman. Unmarried women are arrayed in yellow and other
colors, while men must be content with white. The stretcher-bearers
placed their burden with its feet in the Ganges and then went in search
of wood which is purchased from a dealer. Soon they had a supply, which
they piled up in the form of a bier, and on this they placed the woman's
corpse. Then one of the men, who, the guide said, was the dead woman's
husband, with tears streaming from his eyes, bore some of the water of
the Ganges to the bier, exposed the face of the dead and poured the
sacred water upon her mouth and her eyes. Then while his companion piled
wood above the body the husband sought the low-caste Hindoos who sell
fire for burning the body. He soon returned with several large bundles
of coarse straw, one of which was smoking. Seven times the husband
passed around the bier with the smoking straw before he applied the
flame to the wood. The fire licked greedily at the wood, and soon the
flames had reached the body. Then the husband and his friend repaired to
a stand near by, from which they watched the cremation.

Meanwhile two other bodies had been rushed down to the water's edge. One
was evidently that of a wealthy woman, dressed in yellow silk and borne
by two richly garbed attendants. The other was that of an old man,
attended by his son. The latter was very speedy in securing wood and in
building a funeral pyre. Soon the old man's corpse was stretched on the
bier and the son was applying the torch. He was a good-looking young
fellow, dressed in the clean, white garments of mourning and freshly
shaved for the funeral ceremonies. While he was burning the body of his
father another corpse of a man was rushed down to the river's edge and
placed upon a bier. This body was fearfully emaciated, and when the two
attendants raised it in its white shroud, one arm that hung down limp
was not larger than that of a healthy five-year-old boy, while the legs
were mere skin and bones. It was an ugly sight to see the Ganges water
poured over the face of this corpse, which was set in a ghastly grin
with wide-open eyes. The man had evidently died while he was being
hurried to the burning ghat, as the Hindoos believe that it is evil for
one to die in the house. Hence most of the corpses have staring eyes, as
they breathed their last on the way to the river.

No solemnity marks this cremation by the river's edge. The relatives who
bring down the body haggle over the price of the wood and try to cheapen
the sum demanded by the low-caste man for fire for the burning. The
greed of the priest who performs the last rite and who prepares the
relatives for the cremation is an unlovely sight. All about the burning
ghat where the poor dead are being reduced to ashes hundreds are bathing
or washing their clothes. The spectacle that so profoundly impresses a
stranger is to them so common as to excite no interest.


Lucknow and Cawnpore are the two cities of India that are most closely
associated in the minds of most readers with the great mutiny. The one
recalls the most heroic defense in the history of any country; the other
recalls the most piteous tragedy in the long record of suffering and
death scored against the Sepoys. The British government in both of these
cities has raised memorials to the men who gave their lives in defending
them and, though the art is inferior in both, the story is so full of
genuine courage, loyalty, devotion and self-sacrifice that it will
always find eager readers. So the pilgrims to these shrines of the
mutiny cannot fail to be touched by the relics of the men and women who
showed heroism of the highest order. When one goes through the rooms in
the ruined Residency at Lucknow he feels again the thrill with which he
first read of the splendid defense made by Sir Henry Lawrence and of the
Scotch girl who declared she heard the pipes of the Campbells a day
before they actually broke on the ears of the beleaguered garrison. And
when one stands in front of the site of the old well at Cawnpore, into
which the bleeding bodies of the butchered women and children of the
garrison were thrown, the tears come to his eyes over the terrible fate
of these poor victims of the cruelty of Nana Sahib. The sight of these
Indian cities also makes one appreciate more fully the tremendous odds
against which this mere handful of English men and women contended.

Lucknow is the fifth city in size in the Indian Empire. It is reached by
a six hours' ride from Benares which is interesting, as the railroad
runs through a good farming country, in which many of the original trees
have been left. Lucknow at the outbreak of the mutiny was fortunate in
the possession of one of the ablest army commanders in the Indian
service. Sir Henry Lawrence, when he saw that mutiny was imminent,
gathered a large supply of stores and ammunition in the Residency at
Lucknow. When the siege began Lawrence found himself in a well-fortified
place, with large supplies. About one thousand refugees were in the
Residency and the safety of these people was due largely to the massive
walls of the building and to the skill and courage with which the
defense was handled. In reading the story of this siege of five months,
from June to November, it seems incredible that a small garrison could
withstand so constant a bombardment of heavy guns and so harassing a
fire of small arms; but when you go through the Residency the reason is
obvious. Here are the ruins of a building erected by an old Arab chief
during the Mohammedan rule in Lucknow. The walls are from three to five
feet in thickness, of a kind of flat, red brick like the modern tile.
When laid up well in good mortar such walls are as solid as though built
of stone. What added to the safety of the building was the great
underground apartments, built originally for summer quarters for the old
Moslem's harem, but used during the siege as a retreat for the women and
children. So well protected were these rooms that only one shell ever
penetrated them and this shot did no damage. The building reveals
traces of the heavy fire to which it was subjected, but in no case were
the walls broken down.

The story of the siege of Lucknow has been told by poets and prose
writers for over a half century, but the theme is still full of
interest. Tennyson dealt with it in a ballad that is full of fire, each
verse ending with the spirited refrain:

    And ever upon the topmost roof the banner of England blew.

All that it is necessary to do here is to refresh the reader's memory
with the salient events. The besieged were admirably handled by
competent officers and they beat off repeated attacks by the mutineers
(who outnumbered them more than one hundred to one). Lawrence was
fatally wounded on July the second and died two days later. In September
General Havelock, after desperate fighting, made his way into Lucknow,
but his force was so small that only fifteen hundred men were added to
the garrison. It was not until November the seventeenth that the
garrison was finally relieved by the union of forces under Havelock and
Outram and Sir Colin Campbell. Never in the history of warfare has a
garrison had to endure greater hardships than that of Lucknow. Incessant
attacks by night and day kept the small force worn out by constant guard
duty and, to add to their miseries, intense heat was made more merciless
by swarms of flies. When one bears in mind that the Indian summer brings
heat of from one hundred and ten to one hundred and forty degrees it may
be seen how great was the courage of the garrison that could fight
bravely and cheerfully under such heavy odds. The memorial tablets at
Lucknow, Delhi, Cawnpore and other places bear witness to this heroism
of the British soldier during the mutiny, but you do not fully
appreciate this splendid courage until you see the country and feel the
power of its sun.

Cawnpore, which is only three hours' ride from Lucknow, is another city
of India that recalls the saddest tragedy of the mutiny. Here it was
that bad judgment of the general in charge led to great suffering and
the final butchery of all except a few of the residents. Sir Hugh
Wheeler, a veteran officer, wisely doubted the fidelity of the Sepoys
and decided to establish a place where he could store supplies and
assure a safe asylum for the women and children; but, instead of
selecting the magazine, which was on the river and had strong walls, he
actually went down two miles in a level plain and threw up earth
entrenchments. This he did because he said he feared to excite the
suspicion of the Sepoys and thus incite them to revolt. The result was
disastrous, for the earth walls that he raised furnished poor protection
and the place was raked by the native artillery and small arms from
every point of the compass. A worse place to defend could not have been
chosen, but the twenty officers and two hundred men held it against a
horde of mutinous natives for twenty days of blazing heat. The only
water for the little garrison was obtained under severe fire of the
enemy from a well sixty feet deep.

Finally, when the supply of provisions was nearly exhausted, General
Wheeler agreed to surrender to the Nana Sahib, provided the men were
allowed to carry arms and ammunition and boats were furnished for safe
conduct down the river. Of course, the Nana accepted these terms, but it
seems incredible that a veteran army officer should have trusted the
lives of women and children to Sepoys who were as cruel as our own
Apaches. The little garrison, with the wounded, the women and the
children, was escorted down to the river and placed on barges. But when
the order was given to push off, the treacherous Sepoys grounded the
boats in the mud and the gunners of Nana Sahib opened fire on the
barges. The grape shot set fire to the matting of the barges and many of
the wounded were smothered. One boat escaped down the river, but the
survivors were captured after several days of hardship, the men murdered
and the women and children brought back to Cawnpore. The men in the
other boats who survived were shot, but one hundred and twenty-five
women and children were returned to Cawnpore as prisoners. They spent
seven anxious days and then when Nana Sahib saw he could not hold
Cawnpore any longer he ordered the Sepoys to shoot the English women and
children. To the credit of these mutineers they refused to obey orders
and fired into the ceiling of the wretched rooms where the prisoners
were lodged. Then Nana Sahib sent for five butchers and these men, with
their long knives, murdered the helpless victims of this monster of
cruelty. On the following morning the bodies of dead and dying were cast
into the well at Cawnpore. On the site of this well has been raised a
costly memorial surmounted by a marble angel of the resurrection. The
design is not impressive, but no one can see it without pity for the
unfortunates who were delivered into the hands of the most atrocious
character of modern times. The Memorial Church at Cawnpore, which cost
one hundred thousand dollars, contains a series of tablets to those who
fell in the mutiny.


Agra is chiefly noteworthy for the Taj Mahal, which is acknowledged to
be the most beautiful building in the world; though the city would be
worthy of a visit because of the many splendid mosques and palaces built
by the great Mogul emperors and others. In fact, Agra was the capital of
the Mohammedan empire in north India until Aurungzeb moved it
permanently to Delhi; hence the city is rich in specimens of the best
Moslem work in forts, palaces, mosques and tombs.

Agra has about two hundred thousand population. It is on the Jumna river
and is almost equally distant from Calcutta and Bombay, eight hundred
and forty-two miles from the former and eight hundred and forty-nine
miles from the latter. It will impress any traveler by its cleanliness
when compared with Calcutta, Benares or Lucknow. The land seems to be
more fertile than that around any of these three cities and the standard
of living higher. The shops are clean and bright and a specialty is made
of gold and silver embroidery and imitation of the old Mohammedan inlay
work in marble. Most of the fine Moslem architecture is found inside the
ancient fort, which, with its massive wall, is in a good state of

The Taj Mahal may be seen many times without losing any of its charm. It
is reached by a short drive from the city and its beautiful dome and
minarets may be seen from many parts of Agra and its suburbs. This tomb,
built of white marble, was erected by Shah Jehan, the chief builder
among the Mogul Emperors of India, in memory of his favorite wife,
Arjmand Banu. She married Shah Jehan in 1615 and died fourteen years
after, as she was giving birth to her eighth child. Shah Jehan, who had
already built many fine palaces and mosques, determined to perpetuate
her memory for all time by erecting the finest tomb in the world. So he
planned the Taj, which required twenty-two years and twenty million
dollars to build; but so well was the work done that nearly three
hundred years have left little trace on its walls or its splendid

This Mogul despot, who knew many women, spent an imperial fortune in
fashioning this noblest memorial to love ever built by the hand of man.
Incidentally he probably sacrificed twenty thousand coolies, for he
built the Taj by forced labor, the same kind that reared the pyramids
and carved the sphinx. All the material was brought from great
distances. The white marble came from Jeypore and was hauled in bullock
carts or carried by elephants; the jasper came from the Punjab, the jade
from China and the precious stones from many parts of Central Asia, from
Thibet to Arabia.

The Emperor summoned the best architects and workers in precious stones
of his time and asked them for designs. It is evident that many hands
united in the plans of the building, but history gives the credit for
the main design to a Persian. An Italian architect lent aid in the
ornamentation and three inlaid flowers are shown to-day as specimens of
his work. The building itself is only a shadow of its former
magnificence--for the many alien conquerors of India have despoiled in
it in succession, taking away the solid silver gates, the diamonds,
rubies, sapphires and other precious stones from the flower decorations,
and even the gold and silver from the mosaic work. All the precious
stones looted by vandal hands have been restored by imitations, which
closely resemble the priceless originals. Restorations have also been
made where the marble has been defaced or broken.

The Taj stands in the midst of a great garden, laid out with so much
skill that from any part of its many beautiful walks fine views may be
had of the dome and the minarets. This garden is planted to many
tropical trees and flowering shrubs whose foliage brings out in high
relief the beauty of the flawless marble tomb. The main gateway of the
garden, built of red sandstone, would be regarded as a splendid work of
art were it not for the superior beauty of the tomb itself. The gate is
inlaid in white marble with inscriptions from the Koran, and it is
surmounted by twenty little marble cupolas.

Once inside the gate the beauty and the majesty of the Taj strike one
like a physical blow. Simple as is the design, so perfectly has it been
wrought out that the building gives the impression of the last word in
delicate and unique ornamentation. The white marble base on which the
building rests is three hundred and thirteen feet square and rises
eighteen feet from the ground. The tomb itself is one hundred and
eighty-six feet square, with a dome that rises two hundred and twenty
feet above the base. At each corner of the base is a graceful minaret of
white marble one hundred and thirty-seven feet high. Although no color
is used on the exterior, the decoration is so rich as to prevent all


  Front View of the Taj
    Mahal, Agra. This
      Unusual View
     Was Taken by Mr.
   Isaac O. Upham From
  the Level of the Main
   Approach. It Throws
   Into Strong Relief
    the Two Lines of
   Cypresses and Gives
  a Perfect Reproduction
    of the Taj in the

In every detail the Taj satisfies the eye, with the single exception of
the work on the minarets. The squares of marble that cover these
minarets are laid in dark-colored mortar which brings out strongly each
stone. It would have lent more softness to these minarets had the
individual stones not been revealed, an effect that could have been
secured by using white mortar. When the shades of evening fall these
minarets are far more beautiful than by day, as they are softened by the
wiping out of the lines about the stones. Under the strong light of the
noonday sun the marble that covers the dome shows various shades ranging
from light gray to pearly white, but by the soft evening light all these
colors are merged and the dome looks like a huge soap bubble resting
light as foam on the body of the tomb.

A front photograph of the Taj gives a good idea of its effect. Standing
at the portal of the main entrance one gets the superb effect of the
marble pathway that borders the two canals in which the building is
mirrored. Midway across this pathway is a broad, raised marble platform,
with a central fountain, from which the best view of the building may be
secured. The path on each side from this platform to the main stairway
is bordered by a row of cypress and back of these are great mango trees
at least twenty feet high. These should be removed and smaller trees
substituted, as they interfere seriously with a perfect view of the

From this platform the eye rests on the Taj with a sense of perfect
satisfaction that is given by no other building I have ever seen. The
very simplicity of the design aids in this effect. It seems well nigh
impossible that a mere tomb of white marble should convey so vivid an
impression of completeness and majesty, yet at the same time that every
detail should suggest lightness and delicacy. The little cupolas below
the dome as well as the pinnacles of the minarets add to this effect of
airy grace.

When one ascends the steps to the main door he begins to perceive the
secret of this effect on the senses. Everything is planned for harmony
and proportion. The pointed arch, of which all Moslem architects were
enamored, is shown in the main doorway and in the principal windows of
the front. This doorway rises almost to the full height of the tomb and
on each side are recessed windows, with beautifully pointed tops.

All the angles and spandrels of the building are inlaid with precious
stones as well as with texts from the Koran. In the center of the
building is an octagonal chamber, twenty-four feet on each side, with
various rooms around it devoted to the imperial tombs. A dome,
fifty-eight feet in diameter, rises to a height of eighty feet, beneath
which, inclosed by a trellis-work screen of white marble, are the tombs
of the Favorite of the Palace and of the great Emperor. The Emperor,
with a touch of the Oriental despot, has made his tomb a little larger
than that of the woman whom he honored in this unique fashion. The
delicate tracery in marble, so characteristic of Mogul work of the
sixteenth century, is seen here at its best, as well as the inlays of
the lotus and other flowers in sapphire, turquoise and other stones. The
effect is highly decorative and at the same time chaste and subdued. A
feature which impresses every visitor is the remarkable trellis work in
marble. A solid slab of marble, about six feet by four and about two
inches in thickness, is used as a panel. This is cut out into many
designs that remind one of fine old lace. These panels abound in every
important room of the Taj.

The Taj has suffered little serious damage from the conquerors who
successively despoiled it of its wealth of precious stones. The places
of these jewels have been supplied with imitations which are almost as
effective as the originals. In a few instances the marble has been
chipped or broken, but, through the generosity of Lord Curzon, these
blemishes have been removed, and the whole structure exists to-day
almost as it did three hundred years ago when Akbar's grandson completed
it and found it good.

The Taj should be seen by day and again at nightfall. In the full glare
of the brilliant Indian sun the dome and the minarets stand out with
extraordinary clearness, yet the lightness and buoyancy of the dome is
not injured by the fierce light. Seen at sundown the Taj is at its best.
All the lines are softened; the minarets and the perfect dome give an
appearance of lightness and grace not of this world; they suggest the
cloud-capped towers and gorgeous palaces of the poet's vision. As the
afterglow fades, the Taj takes on an air of mystery and aloofness; the
perfect lines melt into one another and the whole structure is blurred
as though it were seen in a dream. Then one bids adieu to the world's
perfect building, thankful that he has been given the opportunity to
enjoy the greatest marvel of architecture, which leaves on the mind the
same impression left by splendid music or the notes of a great singer.
Words are poor to describe things like the Taj, which become our
cherished possessions and may be recalled to cheer hours of despondency
or grief.


Delhi, the ancient Mogul capital of India, is an interesting city, not
only because of its present-day life but because it contains so many
memorials of the Mohammedan conquest of the country. The ancient Moslem
emperors were men who did things. Above all else they were builders, who
constructed tombs, palaces and mosques that have survived for nearly
four hundred years. They builded for all time, rearing massive walls of
masonry that the most powerful British guns during the mutiny were
unable to batter down. They built their own tombs in such enduring
fashion that we may look upon them to-day as they were when these
despots completed them. Akbar, Shah Jehan, Humayan and Aurungzeb each
erected scores of buildings that have survived the ravages of time and
the more destructive work of greedy mercenaries in time of war. In and
around Delhi are scores of these tombs in various stages of decay. Those
which have been cared for are splendid specimens of the best
architecture of the sixteenth century.

Indian brick is the cheapest building material in the world. The Indian
brick of to-day looks very much like the cheapest brick used in American
cities to fill in the inside of walls; but the brick made in the time of
Shah Jehan and Humayan and used by them was a flat tile brick, hard as
stone, set in mortar that has resisted the elements for over three
hundred years. When the roofs of these Moslem tombs and palaces fell in,
then the work of disintegration followed rapidly. The plaster scaled off
the front and sides, and the rows on rows of brick were exposed; but it
is astonishing that these massive walls have not crumbled to dust in all
these years. In most cases the imposing arched doorways of red sandstone
have survived. These doorways, beautifully arched, may be seen on both
sides of the road leading out of Delhi to the old city, eleven miles
distant, which was the capital of the Mogul emperors until Aurungzeb
moved it to Delhi. In a radius of fifteen miles from Delhi tombs and
palaces that cost hundreds of millions of rupees were built by these
Moslem despots and their viceroys. Most of them are now in ruins, but
from the top of the Kutab Minar one may count a score of tombs with
their domes and cupolas still intact. Into these tombs was poured much
of the treasure wrung from the poverty-stricken Hindoo tillers of the

Few sights in this world are more impressive than this birdseye view of
the remains of the Mogul emperors who ruled northern India for over
three centuries. In one of the poorest and the most densely populated
countries of the world these despots reared marvels of architecture
which have amazed modern experts. They accomplished these wonders in
stone mainly because, with power of life and death, they were able to
impress thousands of coolies and force them to rear the walls of their
palaces and tombs. Building materials were very cheap, so that most of
the treasure expended by these rulers went into the elaborate
ornamentation of walls and ceilings with precious stones and carved
ivory and marble. No description that I have ever read gives any
adequate idea of the number and the massiveness of these remains of
bygone imperial splendor, and this magnificence is made more impressive
by contrast with the squalid poverty of the common people--the tillers of
the soil, the drawers of water, who live in wretched huts, with earthen
floors, no windows and no comforts. These dwellings are crowded together
in small villages; the family cow or goat occupies a part of the
dwelling, a small fire gives warmth only to one standing directly over
it, and the smoke pours out the open door or filters through holes in
the thatched roof.

As the native lived three hundred years ago so does he live to-day. He
uses kerosene instead of the old nut or fish oil, but that is almost the
only change. In the cultivation of the soil and in all kinds of
manufacture the same methods are in use now as when Akbar wrested North
India from its Hindoo rulers. The same crude bullock carts carry produce
to Delhi, with wheels that have felloes a foot thick and only four
spokes. Many of these wheels have no tires. In some cases camels supply
the place of bullocks as beasts of burden, especially in the dry country
north of Delhi. The coolie draws water from the wells for irrigation
just as his ancestors did three centuries ago. He uses bullocks on an
arastra that turns over a big wheel with a chain of buckets. On small
farms this work is done by men. All the processes of irrigation are
ancient and cumbersome and would not be tolerated for a day in any land
where labor is valuable.

Delhi is very rich in memorials of the Mogul conquerors. Near the Lahore
gate is the palace, one of the noblest remains of the Mohammedan period.
A vaulted arcade leads to the outer court, at one end of which is a
splendid band gallery, with a dado of red sandstone, finely carved. On
the farther side is the Dwan-i-'Am or Hall of Public Audience, with
noble arches and columns, at the back of which, in a raised recess, the
emperor sat on his peacock throne, formed of two peacocks, with bodies
and wings of solid gold inlaid with rubies, diamonds and emeralds. Over
it was a canopy of gold supported by twelve pillars, all richly
ornamented. This magnificent work was taken away by Nadir Pasha. The
palace contains many other beautiful rooms, among which may be mentioned
the royal apartments, with a marble channel in the floor, through which
rosewater flowed to the queen's dressing-room and bath.

The most notable mosque in Delhi is the Jama Mashid, built of red
sandstone and white marble. It has a noble entrance and a great
quadrangle, three hundred and twenty-five feet square, with a fountain
in the center. In a pavilion in one corner are relics of Mohammed, shown
with great apparent reverence to the skeptical tourist. Near by is the
Kalar Masjid or Black Mosque, built in the style of the early Arabian

Eleven miles from Delhi are many tombs of the Mogul emperors, including
the Kutab Minar or great column of red sandstone, with a fine mosque
near at hand. Kutab was a viceroy when he began this splendid column,
two hundred and thirty-eight feet high, with a base diameter of
forty-seven feet three inches. The first three stories are of red
sandstone and the two upper stories are faced with white marble. The
summit, which is reached by three hundred and seventy-nine steps, gives
a superb view of the surrounding country, with its many fine Moslem

On the way to the Kutab Minar a number of fine Mohammedan tombs are
passed, chief of which is the tomb of Emperor Humayan, one of the
greatest of the Moslem builders. Of all the buildings that I saw in
India this approaches most closely in beauty the incomparable Taj Mahal.
Of red sandstone, with white marble in relief, its windows are recessed
and the lower doors filled in with stone and marble lattice work of
great beauty. The tomb is an octagon and in the central chamber is the
great emperor's cenotaph of plain white marble. Not far away are the
shrines and tombs of many Mohammedan emperors and saints.

Delhi saw some of the fiercest fighting during the mutiny. The
rebellious natives drove the Europeans out of the city, slaughtering
those who were unable to escape. Thousands of mutineers also flocked to
Delhi from Lucknow, Cawnpore and other places. General Bernard, in
command of the English troops that came from Simla, attacked the
mutineers on June sixth and gained an important victory, as it gave the
British possession of "The Ridge," a lofty outcropping of ancient rock,
which was admirably designed for defense and for operations against the
city. Troops were posted all along the Ridge and in Hindoo Rao's house,
a massive building belonging to a loyal native. This building was the
center of many fierce engagements, but it was not until September that
enough troops were collected to make it safe to assault Delhi.
Brigadier-General John Nicholson had arrived from the Punjab and urged
immediate attack on the city. Nicholson was the greatest man the mutiny
produced. Tall, magnetic, dominating, he enforced his will upon every
one. Even Lord Roberts, who was then a young subaltern and not easily
impressed by rank or achievement, records that he never spoke to
Nicholson without feeling the man's enormous will power and energy.
Finally, on September thirteenth, the British guns having made breaches
in the city walls, two forces (one under Nicholson, the other under
Colonel Herbert) stormed the place. The Kabul gate was soon taken, but
the defense of the Lahore gate proved more stubborn. The soldiers
wavered under the deadly fire, when Nicholson rushed forward to lead
them. His great height made him a target and he fell, shot through the
body. A whole week of severe fighting followed before every portion of
Delhi was captured. Nicholson died three days after the British secured
complete control of the city. His death was mourned as greatly as the
death of Sir Henry Lawrence at Lucknow.

The Kashmir, Kabul and Lahore gates at Delhi are interesting because
they were the scenes of many acts of heroism during the mutiny. On the
Ridge a massive but ugly stone memorial has been erected to those who
fell in the mutiny. The position is fine but the monument, like all the
other memorials of the mutiny, is not impressive because of its poor
design. Other interesting objects which recall incidents in this great
struggle against the Sepoys are suitably inscribed.


The ancient city of Bombay, the gateway of India and the largest
commercial metropolis of the empire, was in festival garb because of the
visit of the King and Queen of England. Fully four hundred thousand
people came in from the surrounding country to see their rulers from
over the sea and to enjoy the novel spectacle of illuminated buildings,
decorative arches, military processions and fireworks. Hence Bombay was
seen at its best in its strange mixture of races and costumes. In this
respect it is more Oriental and more picturesque than Singapore.

The first thing that impresses a stranger is the number, size and beauty
of the public buildings. The Town Hall looks not unlike many American
city structures--as it is classic, with Doric pillars and an imposing
flight of steps; but nearly all the other buildings are of Indian
architecture, with cupolas and domes, recessed windows and massive,
pointed gateways. They are built of a dark stone, and the walls (three
and four feet in thickness) seem destined to last forever. The rooms are
from sixteen to twenty feet in height; above the tall doors and windows
are transoms; the floors are of mosaic or stone; everything about the
buildings appears designed to endure. The streets are very wide and the
sidewalks are arranged under colonnades in front of the buildings, so
that one may walk an entire block without coming out into the fierce
Indian sunshine.

All the main streets converge into the Apollo Bunder, a splendid
driveway like the Maidan in Calcutta. It sweeps around the sea wall and
if any breeze is stirring in Bombay one may get it here at nightfall.
From six o'clock to eight thirty or nine o'clock all Bombay turns out
for a drive on the Apollo Bunder. The line of fine carriages and motor
cars is continuous for miles, going out the Esplanade to Queen's road,
which runs for five miles to Malabar head, the favorite residence place
of the wealthy foreign colony. What will astonish any one accustomed to
Calcutta and other East Indian cities is the large representation of
Parsee families in this evening dress parade. Two-thirds of the finest
equipages belong to the Parsees, who are very richly dressed in silks
and adorned with fortunes in diamonds, rubies and other precious stones.
Here and there may be distinguished rich Hindoos or Mohammedans out for
an airing. The women of the latter sect are concealed behind the
carriage covers, but the Hindoo and Parsee women show their faces, their
jewelry and their beautiful costumes with evident pleasure. Nearly all
these women wear fortunes in diamonds in their ears or in bracelets on
their arms. In no dress parade in any other city have I noted so many
large diamonds, rubies and emeralds as in this procession of carriages
in Bombay.


     One of the Main
    Avenues of Bombay.
    This Broad Street
    Leads to the City
     Market. The View
     Shows the Florid
  Architecture of Public
    Buildings and the
    Variety of Native

Another thing that impresses the stranger in Bombay is the sympathy and
the good feeling that seems to exist between the leading Europeans of
the city and the prominent natives. This is in great contrast to the
exclusiveness that marks the Briton in other East Indian cities. Here
the President and a majority of the members of the Municipal Council
are Parsees; while a number of Hindoos and Mohammedans are represented.
When the King and Queen of England were received, the address of welcome
was read by the Parsee President of the Council, while a bouquet was
presented to the Queen by the President's wife, dressed in her graceful
sari or robe of ecru silk, edged with a black border, heavy with
ornamental gold work. This mingling of the races in civic life is due to
the domination of the Parsee element, which came over to Bombay from
Persia three hundred years ago, when driven from their old homes by
Moslem intolerance. Here these people, who strongly resemble the Jews in
their fondness for trade and their skill in finance, have amassed
imperial fortunes. The richest of these Parsee bankers and merchants,
Sir Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy, left much of his great fortune to charity. He
founded a university, schools and hospitals and his name figures on a
dozen fine buildings. Other prominent Parsee families are the Sassoons
and Jehangirs. Yet, despite their wealth and their association with
Europeans, the Parsees have kept themselves unspotted from the world.
They do not recognize any mingling of their blood with the foreigner. A
Parsee who marries a European woman must accept virtual expatriation,
while the wife (although she may bear him children) is never allowed any
of the privileges of a native woman in this life and when she dies her
body cannot be consigned to the Parsee burial place. She is always an
alien and nothing that she can do is able to break down this racial wall
that separates her from her husband's people. The marriage of Parsee
women to foreigners is practically unknown. The Parsee wears a
distinctive costume. The men dress in white linen or pongee trousers,
with coat of dark woolen or alpaca; they like foreign shirts and
collars, but their headgear is the same as that used by the refugees
from Persia over three hundred years ago. One cap is of lacquered
papier-mache in the form of a cow's hoof inverted. Another is a round
cap of gray cloth, finely made, worn over a skull cap of velvet or
embroidered cloth, which is worn indoors. The women wear the sari or
robe, which consists of one piece of silk or brocade, with an
embroidered band. This garment is draped around the body and brought up
over the head, covering the right ear. They all wear shoes and

The Parsees are all well educated and most of them possess unusual
refinement. So strong is the pride of race among them that they do not
tolerate any mendicancy among their own people. Their charitable
associations care for the few Parsees who are unable to make a living,
so that their paupers never make any claim upon the municipal government
for aid. They also boast that none of their women may be found among the
denizens of the red-light district. Most of the educated Parsees speak
English, French and German, besides Gugerati (the native dialect) and
most of them read and write English, Gugerati and Urdu, which is the
written form of Hindustani. Yet the Parsees are genuine Orientals. They
sit on chairs, but most of their houses are scantily furnished. They are
remarkably fond of sweets, fruits and nuts. They seem insensible to the
surroundings of their homes, many living in crowded streets and up many
flights of stairs. In their homes all their treasures are kept in the
family safe. If you are fortunate enough to be received in one of these
Parsee homes you will be amazed at the wealth in jewelry and personal
ornaments which are possessed even by families of modest fortune. A
Parsee woman of this class will have invested five thousand dollars in
jewelry, much of which she will wear on festive occasions.

Many of the big shipping and cotton merchants of Bombay are Parsees and
they also control much of the banking of the city. It was due largely to
the liberality of the Parsees that the city of Bombay was able to
present to the King a memorial in gold and silver that cost seventeen
thousand rupees, or over five thousand five hundred dollars in American
money. This reception to the King and Queen when they landed at Bombay
on their way to Delhi Durbar was very typical of the life of the city.
Remarkable preparations had been made; a series of arches spanned the
principal streets, all designed in native style. At the end of the
Apollo Bunder was erected a pretty, white pavilion that looked like a
miniature Taj, while a splendid avenue, lined with pillars, led up to
the great amphitheater, in front of which, under an ornate pavilion,
were the golden thrones of the King and Queen. This amphitheater was
reserved for all the European and native notables, as well as the
Maharajahs and chiefs from the neighboring States.

After the reception to the royal party came a parade through the
principal streets and when this was concluded all restrictions were
relaxed and the populace and the visitors from surrounding towns gave
themselves up to an evening of enjoyment. The buildings were
illuminated, some with white and others with red electric lights, while
many large structures were lighted by little oil lamps, in a cup or
glass. The main streets were filled with long lines of carriages,
crowded with richly dressed natives and Europeans, although the natives
outnumbered the foreigners by one hundred to one. Never in my life have
I seen so many valuable jewels as on this night, when I roamed about
the streets for two hours, enjoying this Oriental holiday. At times I
would stop and sit on one of the stands and watch the crowd flow by in a
steady stream. Walking by the side of a Parsee millionaire and his
richly dressed family would pass a Hindoo woman of low caste, one of the
street sweepers, in dirty rags, but loaded down on ankles and arms by
heavy silver bangles and painted in the center of the forehead with her
caste mark. She was followed by a poverty-stricken Mohammedan leading a
little boy, stark naked, while a girl with brilliant cap held the boy's
hand. A naked Tamil, with only a dirty loin cloth, brushed elbows with
three Parsee girls, beautifully dressed. And so this purely democratic
human tide flowed on for hours, rich and poor showing a childlike
pleasure in the street decorations and the variegated crowd. And in the
midst of all this turmoil native parties from out of town squatted on
the deserted tiers of seats, ate their suppers with relish and then
calmly composed themselves to sleep, wrapped in their robes, as though
they were in the privacy of their own homes. It was a spectacle such as
could be seen only in an Oriental city with a people who live in public
with the placid unconsciousness of animals.


The Parsees of Bombay--a mere handful of exiles among millions of
aliens--have so exerted their power as to change the life of a great
city. Proscribed and persecuted, they have developed so powerfully their
aptitude for commercial life that they represent the wealth of Bombay.
Living up to the tenets of their creed, they have given far more
liberally to charity and education than any other race. Some idea of the
respect in which the Parsee is held may be gained from the fact that
customs officers never search the baggage of one of these people; they
take the Parsee's word that he has no dutiable goods. The commercial
success and the high level of private life among the Parsees is due
directly to their religion, which was founded by Zoroaster in ancient
Persia three thousand years ago. As Max-Muller has well said, if Darius
had overthrown Alexander of Greece, the modern world would probably have
inherited the faith of Zoroaster, which does not differ in most of its
essentials from the creed of Christ.

The popular idea of a Parsee is that he worships the sun. This is a
misconception, due probably to the fact that the Parsee when saying his
prayers always faces the sun or, in default of this, prays before a
sacred fire in his temples; but he does not worship the sun, nor any
gods or idols. His temples are bare, only the sacred fire of sandalwood
burning in one corner. The Parsee recognizes an overruling god,
Ahura-Mazda, the creator of the universe; he believes that Nature with
its remarkable laws could not have come into being without a great first
cause. But he believes that the universe created by Ahura-Mazda was
invaded by a spirit of evil, Angra-Mainyush, which invites men to wicked
deeds, falsehood and ignorance. Over against this evil spirit is the
good spirit, Spenta-Mainyush, which represents God and stands for truth,
goodness and knowledge. The incarnation of the evil spirit is known as
Aherman, who corresponds to the Christian devil.

The whole Parsee creed is summed up in three words, which correspond to
good thoughts, good words and good deeds. If one carries out in his life
this creed, then his good thoughts, good words and good deeds will be
his intercessors on the great bridge that leads the spirit from death to
the gates of paradise. If his evil deeds and thoughts and words
overbalance the good, then he goes straight down to the place of
darkness and torment. If his good and evil deeds and thoughts exactly
balance, then he passes into a kind of purgatory.

Fire, water and earth are all sacred to the Parsee; but fire represents
the principle of creation and hence is most sacred. To him fire is the
most perfect symbol of deity because of its purity, brightness and
incorruptibility. The sacred fire that burns constantly in the Parsee
temples is fed with chips of sandalwood. Prayer with the Parsee is
obligatory, but it need not be said in the fire temple; the Parsee may
pray to the sun or moon, the mountains or the sea. His prayer is first
repentance for any evil thoughts or deeds and then for strength to lead
a life of righteousness, charity and good deeds.

The most remarkable result of the Parsee religion is seen in the
education of children. This is made a religious duty, and neglect of it
entails terrible penalties--for the parents are responsible for the
offenses of the badly-educated child, just as they share in the merit
for good deeds performed by their children. It is the duty of a good
Parsee not only to educate his own children but to do all in his power
to help in general education. Hence the large benefactions that rich
Parsees have made to found institutions for the education of the poor.
Disobedience of children is one of the worst sins. The Parsees are also
taught to observe sanitary laws, to bathe frequently, to take all
measures to prevent the spread of contagion. Cleanliness is one of the
chief virtues. To keep the earth pure the Parsee is enjoined to
cultivate it. He is also admonished to drink sparingly of wine and not
to sell it to any one who uses liquor to excess.

The Parsee creed urges the believer to help the community in which he
lives and to give freely to charity. Sir Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy, the
richest Parsee Bombay has known, set aside a fund of four million seven
hundred and forty-three thousand rupees for charity and benevolence
among all the people of his city, regardless of race or creed. The
Parsee gives liberally to charity on the occasion of weddings or of
deaths. The charity includes relieving the poor, helping a man to marry
and aiding poor children to secure an education. The influence of the
Parsee religion upon the literature and life of the people is very
marked. There is no room for atheism, agnosticism or materialism. Faith
in the existence of God and in the immortality of the soul is the
corner-stone of the creed, but the Parsee spends no money and no effort
in proselyting others.

Marriage is encouraged by the Parsee religion, because it encourages a
virtuous and religious life. The marriage ceremony is peculiar. It is
always performed in a large pavilion, whatever the wealth of the couple.
In the case of the rich many invitations are issued and a fine wedding
feast is spread. On the day set for the wedding, the bride and groom and
the invited guests assemble in the pavilion. The bride as well as the
groom is dressed in white. When the time comes for the ceremony the
couple sit in chairs facing each other and a sheet is held up between
them by friends, so that they cannot see each other. Then two priests
begin intoning the marriage service. After several prayers a cord is
wound around the two chairs seven times and the chairs are also bound
together with a strip of cloth. More prayers and exhortations follow,
both priests showering rice upon the couple. Finally the sheet is
withdrawn, they and their chairs are placed side by side, each is given
a cocoanut to hold that is bound to the other by a string, emblematic of
the plenty that may bless the new home, and they are declared man and
wife. Then they sign a document certifying that they have been united
according to the Parsee ritual and witnesses sign their names.

Far stranger than the wedding customs of the Parsees are their burial
rites. They believe that neither fire, earth nor water must be polluted
by contact with a dead body, so neither burial nor cremation is
permitted. Instead, they expose their dead to vultures which strip the
flesh from the bones within an hour. This occurs in conical places,
called towers of silence, which are shut off from human gaze. The Bombay
towers of silence are on Malabar head, a beautiful residence district
overlooking the city. Here, in a fine garden planted to many varieties
of trees and shrubs, are five circular towers, each about twenty feet
high, made of brick, covered with plaster.

While you are admiring the flowers and trees a funeral enters the gates.
The body is carried by four professional bearers and is followed by two
priests and the relatives and friends. All the mourners are clothed in
white. They walk two by two, no matter how distant may be the house of
death, each couple holding a handkerchief as a symbol of their union in
sorrow. When the procession reaches the top of the hill the mourners
diverge and take seats in the house of prayer, where the sacred fire is
burning, or they seat themselves in the beautiful garden for meditation
and prayer. The priests deliver the body to the two corpse bearers, who
throw open the great iron door and enter with the body. The floor of the
tower is of iron grating, arranged in three circles--the outer for men,
the next for women and the inner for children. As the bearers lay the
body down, they strip off the shroud. Then the iron door closes with a
clang. This is the signal for a score of vultures to swoop down upon the
body. No human eye can see this spectacle, but the imagination of the
visitor pictures it in all its horror. Within a few minutes the gorged
vultures begin flapping their way to the top of the tower, where they
roost on the outer rim.

The bones of the corpse are allowed to remain for several days exposed
to the fierce sun. Then they are thrown into a great central well, where
the climate soon converts them into dust. This is washed by the rains
into underground wells. Charcoal in these wells serves to filter the
rain water before it enters the ground. Thus do the Parsees preserve
even the earth from contamination by the ashes of the dead. No expense
is spared by the Parsees in the construction of these towers of
silence, which are always placed on the tops of hills. According to the
testimony of some of the ablest medical men of England and America, who
have examined these burial grounds, the Parsee method of disposing of
the dead is the most sanitary that has ever been devised. It avoids even
the fumes that are given off in cremation of the dead. It is also cheap
and absolutely democratic, as the bones of the rich and poor mingle at
last in the well of the tower of silence.

There is nothing offensive to European taste in the towers of silence
except the vultures. These disgusting birds, like the Indian crow, are
protected because they are admirable scavengers. The Parsees see nothing
offensive in exposing their dead to these birds nor apparently does it
shock them that alien hands should bare the bodies of their beloved
dead; but to a foreigner both these aspects of Parsee burial are
repellant and no argument has any weight to counteract this sentiment.

Many sensational accounts of these Parsee burial rites have been
printed. Nearly every writer lays stress on the fact that pieces of the
dead bodies are dropped by the vultures within the grounds or in the
streets outside. This is an absurdity, as the vulture never rises on the
wing with any carrion--he eats it on the spot and he will not leave
until he is gorged to repletion. An effort was made several years ago to
remove these towers of silence on Malabar hill because of complaints
that fragments of corpses were found in the neighborhood. When two
competent medical experts investigated the matter they reported that
there was no foundation for the complaints. So the towers have remained
and thousands of Parsees have been borne to them for the last rites of
their creed.

[Illustration: PLATE XLI

          One of the Main Gates to Government
  House, Calcutta. This Gate is of Beautiful Proportions
        and Has a Fine Lion. Government House is
          Situated in a Fine Park of Six Acres]

[Illustration: PLATE XLII

     A Street Scene in
     Calcutta. The New
   Building at the Right
  Has a Staging of Bamboo.
      On the Left is
   the Burka Bazaar, One
  of the Sights of India,
     Each Dealer Having
    a Small Shop of His
     Own. The Goods Are
    Classified As in An
    American Department

[Illustration: PLATE XLIII

          The Great Burning Ghat at Benares.
  Here Are Four Funeral Pyres Arranged for Burning, the
    Heads of the Corpses May Be Detected Among the
      Wood. The Pyre in the Middle Foreground is
     Partly Burned. Relatives Watch the Cremation
                From the Temple Above]

[Illustration: PLATE XLIV

   View of the Bathing
  Ghats at Benares. Here
   May Be Seen Natives
    Bathing in Mother
   Ganges, While Above
     Are the Line of
  Splendid Palaces and
  Temples Built by the
    Maharaja Princes]

[Illustration: PLATE XLV

      A Holy Man of
    Benares Under His
    Umbrella. Each of
  the Fakers at Benares
  Has His Own Clientage,
        But No One
      Bathes Without
   Yielding Tribute to
      Some Holy Man]

[Illustration: PLATE XLVI

     The Residency at
    Lucknow. This, the
     Most Impressive
   Relic of the British
     Mutiny In India,
      Is Now Only a
  Beautiful Ruin, But it
    Recalls the Heroic
    Defense Made By a
    Handful of English
     Against Hundreds
   Of Natives. In Front
  Is a Memorial Erected
    by Lord Northbrook
     to Loyal Native

[Illustration: PLATE XLVII

        Tomb of
     at Agra. This
    Tomb Was Erected
     in Honor of the
  Prime Minister of the
  Emperor Jahangir. It
    Is of Carved and
    Inlaid Marble and
   Overlooks the Jumna

[Illustration: PLATE XLVIII

    The Mutiny Memorial
     at Cawnpore. This
    Memorial Was Erected
     Over the Well Into
     Which Were Thrown
     the Bodies of One
  Hundred and Twenty-Five
     English Women and
    Children, Butchered
      By Order of the
        Nana Sahib]

[Illustration: PLATE XLIX

    Detail of Carving in the Jasmine Tower, Agra.
  This View Gives a Good Idea of the Wonderful Work
    in Marble Carving and the Inlaying of Precious
       Stones, Which Makes This Little Pavilion
                 a Rival of the Taj]

[Illustration: PLATE L

   The Jasmine Tower In
    Agra Fort. This Is
  a Marble Pavilion, the
     Home of the Chief
   Sultana, Overlooking
   the Jumna River. The
  Lattice Work Decoration
  In Marble Is Remarkably

[Illustration: PLATE LI

  Snap-shot of a Jain
  Family at Agra. Mr.
    Upham's Camera
  Caught This Woman
  as She Peeked From
  Behind the Curtain
   of the Ekka, or
     Native Cart]

[Illustration: PLATE LII

    The Fort at Agra
   Which Encloses Many
   Palaces. This Fort
  Has a Circuit of Over
    a Mile, With Two
    Octagonal Towers
   of Red Sandstone.
  Enclosed are Mosques
    and Palaces Which
    Rival the Taj In
  Beauty of Design and
       Richness of

[Illustration: PLATE LIII

    Kutab Minar, the Arch and the Iron Pillar, near Delhi.
  The Arch Formed Part of a Mosque built by Kutab, a Viceroy,
    in 1193 A. D. The Pillar Stood in the Mosque and is of
      Wrought Iron, Twenty-three Feet High. The Monument
           is Two Hundred and Thirty-eight Feet High
           With Three Hundred and Seventy-nine Steps]

[Illustration: PLATE LIV

     Shah Jehan's Heaven
       on Earth, Delhi.
     The Diwan-i-Khas, or
        Hall of Private
      Audience, Is One of
        the Most Richly
    Decorated Buildings In
      India. The Ceiling
    Was Originally Silver.
      Over the Two Outer
     Arches Is the Persian
     "If Heaven can be on
    the face of the earth,
  It is this, oh! it is this,
       oh! it is this"]

[Illustration: PLATE LV

  Street View In Delhi,
      With the Juma
   Mashid. This Shows
   the Variety of Life
  In Delhi Streets. The
  Juma Mashid Is One of
    the Finest of the

[Illustration: PLATE LVI

     A Parsee Tower of
  Silence at Bombay. This
     Shows One of the
   Unique Burial Places
     at Malabar Head,
     Where Dead Bodies
   Are Exposed. Vultures
   Strip the Flesh From
      the Bones In a
       Few Minutes]



The first impression of Cairo is bewildering. None of the Oriental
cities east of Port Said is at all like it in appearance or in street
life. The color, the life, the picturesqueness, the noises, all these
are distinctive. Kyoto, Manila, Hongkong, Singapore, Rangoon, Calcutta,
Bombay and Colombo--each has marked traits that differentiate it from
all other cities, but several have marked likenesses. Cairo differs from
all these in having no traits in common with any of them. It stands
alone as the most kaleidoscopic of cities, the most bizarre in its
mingling of the Orient and the Occident.

Ismail Pasha, who loved to ape the customs of the foreigner, made a
deliberate attempt to convert Cairo into a second Paris, by cutting
great avenues through the narrow, squalid streets of the old city, but
Ismail simply transformed a certain quarter of the place and spoiled its
native character. What he could not do, fortunately, was to rob the
Egyptian of his picturesqueness or make the chief city of Egypt other
than a great collection of Oriental bazars and outdoor coffee shops, as
full of the spirit of the East as the camel or the Bedouin of the

The ride from Port Said to Cairo on the train, which consumes four
hours, is interesting mainly as a revelation of what the Nile means to
these people, who without its life-giving water would be unable to grow
enough to live on. With abundant irrigation this Nile delta is one of
the garden spots of the earth.

The villages that we pass remind one somewhat of old Indian villages on
the fringe of the desert in California and Arizona--the same walls of
sun-baked adobe; the roofs of any refuse from tree pruning; the goats
and chickens on terms of intimacy with the single living-room. But the
people are not of the Western world. Dressed in voluminous black or blue
cotton robes, which are pulled up over their heads to protect them from
the keen wind of winter, they belong to the land as absolutely as the
tawny, dust-colored camel. The dress of the women appears to differ very
little from that of the men, but always the women gather a loose fold of
their dress and bring it over the head, thus partially concealing the
face. Men, women and children, all in bare feet, squat in the sand or
sit hunched up against the sunny side of their houses. Beyond any other
Orientals I have seen, these Egyptians have the capacity for unlimited
loafing under circumstances that would drive an American insane in a few
hours. Flies swarm over them; passing donkeys or camels powder them with
dust; the fierce sun beats down on their heads; but all these things
they accept philosophically as an inevitable part of life, as something
decreed by fate which it would be useless and senseless to change.

The first walk down the Street of the Camel in Cairo is one not soon
forgotten. Before you are clear of the hotel steps an Arab in a sweater
and loose skirt, something like the Malay sarong, rushes up and shouts:
"The latest New York Herald; just came this morning!" Although you tell
him "no" and shake your head, he follows you for half a block. Meanwhile
you are badgered by dealers in scarabs, beads, stamps, postal cards,
silver shawls and various curios, who dog your heels, and, when you
finally lose your temper, retaliate by shouting: "Yankee!" through their
noses. These street peddlers are wonderfully keen judges of nationality
and they manage to make life a burden to the American tourist by their
unwearied and smiling persistence. This is due in great part to the
foolish liberality of American travelers, who are inclined to accept the
first price offered, although with an Egyptian or an Arab this is
usually twice or three times what he finally agrees to take.

Custom and habit probably blunt one's sensibilities in time, but this
constant annoyance by peddlers detracts much from the pleasure of any
stroll through Cairo streets. To the new arrival everything is novel and
attractive. The main avenues are wide, well paved and lined with
spacious sidewalks, but here the European touch ends. After passing some
fine shops, their windows filled with costly goods from all parts of
Egypt and the Soudan, one comes upon one of the great cafes that form a
distinctive feature of Cairo street life. Here the sidewalk is half
filled with small tables, about which are grouped Egyptians and
foreigners drinking the sweet Turkish coffee that is served here at all
hours of the day.

Many of these Egyptians are in European dress, their swarthy faces and
the red fez alone showing their nationality. The young men are
remarkably handsome, with fine, regular features, large, brilliant black
eyes and straight, heavy eyebrows that frequently meet over the nose.
Their faces beam with good nature and they evidently regard the frequent
enjoyment of coffee and cigarettes as among the real pleasures of life.
But the older men all show traces of this life of ease and
self-indulgence. It is seldom that one sees a man beyond fifty with a
strong face. The Egyptian over forty loses his fine figure, he lays on
abundant flesh, his jowl is heavy and his whole face suggests satiety
and the loss of that pleasure in mere existence that makes the youth so

Walking down this main artery of Cairo life one sees on the left a large
park surrounded by a high iron fence. This is the Esbekiyeh Gardens,
which cover twenty acres, and are planted to many choice trees and
shrubs. They contain cafes, a restaurant and a theater, and on several
evenings in the week military and Egyptian bands alternate in playing
foreign music. Beyond the gardens is an imposing opera house, with a
small square in front, ornamented with an impressive equestrian statue
of old Ibrahim Pasha, one of the few good fighters that Egypt has
produced. From the opera house radiate many streets, some leading to the
new Europeanized quarters, with noble residences and great apartment
houses; others taking one directly to the bazars and narrow streets that
give a good idea of Cairo as it existed before the foreigner came to
change its life.

Although the modern tram car clangs its way through these native
streets, it is about the only foreign touch that can be seen. Everything
else is distinctively Oriental. It is difficult to give any adequate
idea of the narrowness of these streets or of the amount of life that is
crowded into them. As in many cities of India, all the work of the shops
goes on in plain view from the street. The shops themselves are mere
cubicles, from eight to ten feet wide and seldom more than from six to
eight feet deep. In certain streets the makers of shoes and slippers are
massed in solid rows; then come the workers in brass and metals; then
the jewelers, and following these may be dealers in shawls and in curios
of various kinds. The native shopkeeper sits cross-legged amid his
stock and, although he shows great keenness in getting you to examine
his wares, he never reveals any haste in closing a bargain.

Shopping in this native quarter and in the great Muski bazar that
adjoins it is a constant source of amusement to the foreign woman who
has a fondness for bargaining. These Arabs and Egyptians never expect
one to give more than half what is demanded, except in the case of a few
large shops in which the price is marked. If one of the silver shawls
made at Assiut attracts a lady's attention and the polite shopkeeper
demands five pounds sterling, she may safely offer him two pounds, and
then, after haggling for a half hour, she will probably become the
possessor of the shawl for two pounds ten shillings. Of one thing the
traveler may be sure: he will never get any article from an Egyptian on
which the shopkeeper cannot make a small profit.

The Muski bazar is about a mile long and, although many European shops
line it, the street still retains its Oriental attractiveness. Branching
off from it are many narrow streets crowded with shops on both sides.
Here may be seen the real life of Old Cairo, unhampered by any foreign
innovations. The street is not more than twelve feet wide and above the
first floor of the houses projecting latticed windows and open balconies
reduce this width to three or four feet. Looking up one sees only a
narrow slit of blue sky, against which are outlined several tiers of
latticed windows. From these the harem women look down upon the street
life in which they can have no real part. Peeping over the balconies may
be seen black eyes that gleam above the yashmak or Oriental veil worn by
the poorer classes. This veil covers the face almost to the eyes and it
is held in place by a curious bit of bamboo that comes down over the
forehead to the nose. The women of the better class do not wear this
ugly yashmak, but content themselves with a white silk veil that is
stretched across the lower part of the face, leaving the eyes and a part
of the nose uncovered.

No visit to Cairo is complete without a sight of Old Cairo, with its
bazars. This is a quarter of the city that remains as it was in the days
of the Caliphs. It is inhabited mainly by Copts and among the mean
houses, built of sun-dried bricks, may be traced part of the old Roman
wall that encircled this suburb, then known as Babylon. The houses are
mainly of two or three stories, but the streets are so narrow that two
people on opposite sides may easily join hands by leaning out of their
windows. Many or the antique doors of oak, studded with great
wrought-iron nails, still remain. Here is the old church of St. Sergius,
which is said to antedate the Moslem conquest. In the ancient crypt the
Virgin Mary and the Child are said to have sought shelter after their
flight into Egypt.

Near by is the island of Roda, which is noteworthy for the legend that
here the infant Moses was found by Pharaoh's daughter. The visitor
crosses a narrow arm of the Nile by a crude ferry and then walks through
a quaint old garden to a wall that overlooks the Nile and the Pyramids.
This wall marks the spot, according to local tradition, where Moses was
taken from the bulrushes. The bulrushes are no more because they have
been dredged out, but the place has the look of extreme age and the
garden contains many curious trees.


Luxor, the ancient city of Upper Egypt, which may be reached by a night
train ride from Cairo, is the center of the most interesting ruins on
the Nile. The city itself has been built around the splendid temple of
Luxor, founded by Amenophis III, but altered and extensively rebuilt by
Rameses II. From the Nile the colonnade of this temple is a beautiful
spectacle, as the huge columns are in perfect preservation. Big tourist
hotels make up most of the other buildings. The town boasts a good water
front, which is generally lined in the winter season with tourist
steamers. The view across the Nile is fine, as it includes the lofty
Libyan range of mountains, in whose flanks were cut the tombs of the
Pharaohs. Here, in two or three days, one may study the ruins of Luxor,
Karnak and Thebes--names that the historian still conjures with.

All the Egyptian temples were built on one general plan, like the
mosques of North India, and Luxor does not differ from the others,
except that it surpasses them all in the beauty of its colonnaded
pillars. Seven double columns, about fifty-two feet high, with lotus
capitals, support a massive architrave, while beyond them are double
columns on three sides of a great court. This temple of Luxor was
originally built by Amenophis III of the eighteenth dynasty in honor of
Ammon, the greatest of Egyptian gods, his wife and their son, the
moon-god Khons. The successor of this monarch erased the name of Ammon
and made other changes, but Seti I restored Ammon's name, and then came
Rameses II, the builder who never wearied in rearing huge temples and in
carving colossal figures of himself.

Rameses added a colonnaded court in front of the temple, built an
enormous pylon, with obelisks and colossal statues that celebrate his
own greatness, and erased the cartouches of the original builder,
substituting his own and thus claiming credit for the erection of the
whole temple. Were the spirit of the great Rameses allowed to return to
earth and reanimate the mummy that now forms the most interesting
exhibit in the Cairo Museum, how great would be his humiliation to know
that his ingenious devices to appropriate the credit of other men's work
have been exposed? In nearly all the remains of Upper Egypt, Rameses
figures as the sole builder, but the cunning of modern archaeologists
has stripped him of this credit and has revealed him as the greatest of
royal charlatans.

The general plan of the Luxor temple is repeated at Karnak and all other
places in Egypt. The pylon, two towers of massive masonry, formed the
entrance to the temple, the door being in the middle. The towers of the
pylon resemble truncated pyramids and, as they were formed of large
stones, they frequently survived when all other parts of the temple fell
into ruins. The surfaces of the pylon afforded space for reliefs and
inscriptions, telling of the glories of the king who reared the temple.
In most cases obelisks and colossal statues of the royal builder were
placed in front of the pylon. From the pylon one enters the great open
court, with covered colonnades at right and left. This court was the
gathering place of the people on all big festivals, and in the center
stood the great altar. Back of this court, on a terrace a few feet
higher, was the vestibule of the temple upheld by columns, the front row
of which was balustraded. Behind this was the great hypostyle hall,
extending the whole width of the building, with five aisles, the two
outer ones being lower than the others. The roof of the central aisle is
upheld by papyrus columns with calyx capitals, while that of the other
aisles is supported by papyrus columns with bud capitals. Behind this
hall is the inner sanctuary, containing the image of the god in a sacred
boat. Around the sanctuary were grouped various chambers for the storage
of the priests' vestments and for the use of watchmen and other

In the Luxor temple the surface of the pylon is devoted to a record of
the achievements in war of Rameses II, the monarch who finally revised
the temple and put his seal on it. Behind the pylon is the great court
of Rameses, entirely surrounded by two rows of seventy-four columns,
with papyrus bud capitals and smooth shafts. Then comes a colonnade of
seven double columns, fifty-two feet high, with calyx capitals; a second
court, that of Amenophis III, with double rows of columns on three
sides; the vestibule of the temple, two chapels, the birth-room of
Amenophis and several other chambers.


       The Great Hypostyle Hall at Karnak.
  This Hall is in the Temple of Ammon, and is One
  of the Most Impressive in All Egypt. Originally
      There Were One Hundred and Thirty-four
        Columns, Arranged in Sixteen Rows]

Each monarch who reared a temple to his chosen deity devoted much space
to statues of himself, with grandiloquent accounts in hieroglyphs of his
exploits in war and peace and of the many peoples who paid him tribute.
Rameses appears to have had most of the evil traits of the arbitrary
despot. With unlimited men and material he was engaged during the
greater part of his long reign in erecting colossal structures which
were designed to perpetuate in enduring stone the record of his
achievements. But Time has dealt Rameses some staggering blows. His tomb
at Thebes, which was planned to preserve his mummy throughout the ages,
fell in and is the only one of the tombs of the kings that cannot be
shown. The mummy of this ablest and proudest of the Pharaohs is now on
exhibition at the Cairo Museum with a score of others and excites the
ribald comment of the Cook's tourist, who drops his "h's" and knows
nothing of Egyptology. Yet the mummy of Rameses is by far the most
interesting of those shown at the museum because the head and face are
so essentially modern. The other rulers of Egypt were plainly Orientals,
but this man, with the high-bridged, sensitive nose, the long upper lip,
the strong chin and the powerful forehead, might have stepped out of the
political life of any of the great European nations during the last

The impressiveness of the temple of Luxor depends mainly upon the rows
of columns, nearly sixty feet in height, which give one a vivid idea of
the majesty of Egyptian architecture in its best estate. These columns
show few traces of the destroying hand of time, although they were
carved from soft limestone. Probably the escape of this temple from the
ruin that befell Karnak and Thebes was due mainly to its sheltered
position and also to the fact that a Coptic church and the houses of
peasants were built among the columns. The refuse that aided to preserve
these remains of Ancient Egyptian architecture was fully twenty feet
deep when the work of excavation was begun. Hence Luxor satisfies the
eye in the perfect arrangement of the columns and in the massiveness of
the work. Here also on the pylon and the walls of the court may be seen
some beautiful reliefs and inscriptions which depict scenes in the
campaigns of Rameses II against the Hittites, sacrificial processions
and hymns to the gods.

From ancient Luxor to Karnak, a distance of a mile and one-half, the way
was marked in the time of the Pharaohs by a double row of small
sphinxes, many of which still remain in a half-ruined condition. This
avenue leads to the small temple of Khons, the moon-god, made noteworthy
by a beautiful pylon. This pylon is one hundred and four feet long,
thirty-three feet wide and sixty feet high and is covered with
inscriptions and reliefs. This small temple serves as an introduction to
the great temple of Ammon, the chief glory of Karnak, to which most of
the Pharaohs contributed. This temple is difficult to describe, as it
covers several acres and is a mass of gigantic masonry, full of majesty
even in its ruin. What it was in the days of its builders, with its vast
courts lined with beautiful designs in brilliant colors, the imagination
fails to conceive. Its greatest features are the main pylon (three
hundred and seventy feet wide and one hundred and forty-two and one-half
feet high), the great hypostyle hall of Seti I and Rameses II, the
festival temple of Thotmes III and the obelisk of Queen Hatasu. From the
pylon a superb view may be gained of the ruins of Karnak.

The hypostyle hall is justly ranked among the wonders of the world, as
it is no less than three hundred and thirty-eight feet in breadth by one
hundred and seventy feet in depth and it is estimated that the great
church of Notre Dame in Paris could be set down in this hall. Sixteen
rows of columns--one hundred and thirty-four in all--support the roof.
Looking down the two central rows of columns toward the sanctuary, one
gets some idea of the effect of this colossal architecture when the
pillars were all perfect and the fierce sunshine of ancient Egypt
brought out their barbaric wealth of gold and brilliant colors.

The walls of this immense hall are covered with pictures in relief
depicting the victories of Seti and Rameses over the Libyans and the
people of Palestine. These designs represent the two monarchs as
performing prodigies of valor on the field of battle and then bringing
the trophies of war as an offering to the gods. The festal hall of
Thotmes III is made noteworthy by twenty unique columns arranged in two
rows. The Temple of Karnak was made beautiful by two fine obelisks of
pink granite from Assuan, erected by Queen Hatasu. One is in fragments,
but the other rises one hundred and one-half feet from amid a ruined
colonnade. It is the loftiest obelisk known with the single exception of
that in front of the Lateran in Rome, which is taller by only three and
one-half feet. The inscription records that it was made in seven months.

The impression left by the ruins of Karnak is bewildering. The modern
mind has great difficulty in conceiving how any monarch, no matter how
great his resources, could spend years in erecting these huge structures
in honor of his gods. Here are scores of colossal statues of Rameses,
Seti and Amenophis, each of which required six months to carve from a
single slab of red or black granite. Here are hundreds of columns of
from forty to sixty feet high, covered from capital to base with richly
carved hieroglyphs. Here are splendid halls, larger than anything known
in our day, which were picture galleries in stone, blazing with gold,
red, purple and other colors. And here are obelisks that have preserved
through all these centuries the story of their dedication.

The mind is staggered by so great a mass of work, representing untold
misery of thousands of wretched slaves brought from all parts of the
then known world. These slaves were made to work under the terrible
Egyptian sun; if they were overcome by the heat and stopped for a
moment's rest their bare backs felt the cruel lash of the overseer; if
they fell under the heat and the burden they were dragged out and their
bodies thrown to the vultures and the jackals. So, while we stand in
amazement before these relics of the enormous activity of a people who
have passed away, we cannot fail to note that these huge stones were
cemented with the blood and tears of the bond slave, and that if they
could find a voice they would tell of unthinkable atrocities which they
witnessed in those old days, before brotherly love came into the world.


The Greeks and Romans who went up the Nile as far as the "hundred-gated"
city of Thebes declared that the Tombs of the Kings, cut in the
limestone sides of the Libyan range of mountains, were among the wonders
of the world. The tourist of to-day will confirm this early impression,
for in Egypt nothing gives one a more vivid idea of the enormous pains
taken by the Pharaohs to preserve their dead from desecration than do
these tombs. Here for several miles in the flanks of these
mountains--sterile, desolate beyond any region that I have ever
seen--are scattered the rock-hewn tombs of the monarchs who carried the
arms of Egypt to all parts of the known world of their day. Like their
temples, the Egyptians built their tombs after a uniform plan--the only
variation was in the arrangement of the minor chambers and in the
inscriptions which told of the history of the king whose mummy reposed
in the vault.

Seven miles across the river the Pharaohs chose the site of their tombs.
Imagination could not conceive a greater abomination of desolation than
the rocky mountainside in which these tombs are carved; but fortunes
were lavished on the construction of these resting places of the dead.
Historians and travelers have told of the great city which grew up about
the tombs of the Egyptian kings--the temples, the homes of priests and
the huge settlements of thousands of workmen who spent years in the
laborious carving and decoration of these burial places. But to-day
nothing remains of these cities, and of the temples only a few columns,
pillars and broken statues bear witness to their former grandeur. Yet
the tombs have resisted the destroying hand of the centuries, and the
walls of several of them actually retain the brilliant colors laid on by
the painters over four thousand years ago. When you go down the
roughly-hewn steps into the mortuary chambers, carved out of the solid
rock, it is borne in upon you that here time has stood still; that
during all the ages that have seen the rise of Christianity and the
growth of empires greater than Thebes ever dreamed of, the mummies of
these Pharaohs reposed here undisturbed. Now by the aid of skilfully
arranged electric lights you may descend into most of these tombs,
marvel at the beauty of the decorative inscriptions on the walls, gaze
upon the massive granite sarcophagi in which the mummies were placed,
and get a genuine taste of the antiquity that you have read about but
never fully realized before. This is the service of the tombs of the
kings--the actual turning back of the centuries so that one feels the
touch of the ancient days as vividly as he feels the hot, dust-laden,
oppressive air of the mausoleum.

The excursion from Luxor to the tombs of the kings and the Colossi of
Memnon, not far away, is a hard day's trip. The tourist crosses the Nile
in a small boat and takes a donkey or a carriage. The road leads along a
large canal, passing the remains of the great temple of Seti I at Kurna,
and thence winds around through two desert valleys into a gorge lined on
both sides with naked, sun-baked rocks that give back the heat like the
open doors of a furnace. Bare of any scrap of verdure, desolate beyond
expression, these rocky walls that shut in this gorge form a fitting
introduction to the tombs of the kings. The road finally turns to the
left and enters a small valley, encircled by huge rocks, cut by ravines.
Here one may see in the sides of the mountain wall the first of the
rock-hewn tombs, which happens to be that of Rameses IV. One enters the
large gateway and passes down an ancient staircase cut in the solid
rock, at an angle of forty-five degrees. Three corridors and an
ante-room, all carved out of rock, lead to the main chamber, which
contains the mammoth granite sarcophagus of the king (ten feet long,
eight feet high and seven feet wide), beautifully decorated with
inscriptions. Four other rooms follow, the walls of each being covered
with inscriptions. Recesses are found in the main hall for the storage
of the furniture of the dead and in several of the other rooms.

The theory of the Egyptians in the arrangement of these tombs was that
the dead king, guided by the great sun-god, voyaged through the
underworld every night in a boat. Hence he must have careful guidance in
regard to his route. This was furnished by elaborate extracts from two
sacred books of the Egyptians. One was entitled _The Book of Him Who Is
in the Underworld_ and the other was the _Book of the Portals_.

The walls of these tombs reveal extracts from the sacred books in great
variety, but all designed to serve as a guide to the dead kings. The
best tombs are those of Amenophis II, Rameses III, Seti I and Thotmes
III. They are all of similar design but the tomb of Seti I (discovered
by the Italian savant, Belzoni) is finer than any of the others. It
includes fourteen rooms, most of which are richly adorned with
inscriptions and designs from the sacred books. The sculptures on the
walls are executed with great skill and the decorations of the ceilings
show much artistic taste. In the tenth room are many curious
decorations, the ceiling, which is finely vaulted, being covered with
astronomical figures and lists of stars and constellations. From this
room an incline leads to the mummy shaft. The mummy of Seti I is in the
Cairo Museum, while the fine alabaster sarcophagus is in the Soane
Museum in London. The tomb of Amenophis II is noteworthy as the only one
which contains the royal mummy. In a crypt with blue ceiling, spangled
with yellow stars and with yellow walls to represent papyrus, is the
great sandstone sarcophagus of the king. Under a strong electric light
is shown the mummy-shaped coffin with the body of the king, its arms
crossed and the funeral garlands still resting in the case. The
effectiveness of this mummy makes one regret that the others have been
removed to the Cairo Museum, instead of being restored to their original
places in these tombs. Most of these royal mummies were removed to a
shaft at Deir-el-Bahri to save them from desecration by the invading
Persians, but when the mummies were found it would have been wise to
replace them in these tombs rather than to group them, as was done, in
the Cairo Museum. One or two mummies in that museum would have been as
effective as two dozen.

Not far from these tombs is the fine temple of Queen Hatasu at
Deir-el-Bahri. This queen was the sister and wife of King Thotmes III,
and for a part of his reign was co-regent. The temple, which was left
unfinished, was completed by Rameses II. A short ride from this temple
brings one to the Ramessium, the large temple (which is badly preserved)
erected by Rameses II and dedicated to the god Ammon. The pylon is
ruined, but one can still decipher some of the inscriptions that tell of
Rameses' campaign against the Hittites. The first court is a mass of
ruined masonry, but it contains fragments of a colossal statue of
Rameses, the largest ever found in Egypt. It probably measured
fifty-seven and one-third feet in height, as the various parts show that
it was twenty-two and one-half feet from shoulder to shoulder. The
colossal head of another statue of Rameses was found near by. The great
hall had many fine columns, of which eighteen are still standing. These
columns are very impressive and give one some idea of the majesty of the
temple when it was complete. Not far away are the tombs of the queens,
including the fine mausoleum of the consort of Rameses II, part of whose
name was Mi-an-Mut.

A half mile from the Ramessium brings one to the Colossi of Memnon, the
two huge seated figures of stone, which were long included among the
seven wonders of the world. These figures were statues of King Amenophis
III and were placed in front of a great temple that he built at this
place; but time has dealt hardly with the temple, as scarcely a trace of
it remains. The figures with the pedestals are about sixty-five feet
high and, as they are on the level plain near the banks of the Nile,
they can be seen from a great distance. Though carved from hard
sandstone these figures have suffered severely from the elements, so
that the faces bear little trace of human features; still they are
impressive from their mere size and from the fact that they have come
down to us across the centuries with so little change.

The southern statue is in the best preservation, but the northern one is
of greatest interest because for ages it was believed to give forth
musical notes when the first rays of the rising sun fell on its lips.
The Greeks called it the Statue of Memnon, and invented the fable that
Memnon, who was slain at Troy by Achilles, appeared on the Nile as a
stone image and every morning greeted his mother (Eos) with a song. So
many good observers vouched for these musical notes at sunrise that the
phenomenon must be accepted as an historical fact. The Romans invented
the legend that when these sounds occurred the god was angry. Hence the
emperor, Septimius Severus, apparently to propitiate the god, made some
restorations in the upper portion of the statue, whereupon the
mysterious musical sounds ceased. Some modern experts in physics have
deduced the theory that this statue, carved from hard, resonant stone,
really gave forth sounds when warmed up by the early sun after the heavy
dews of night. Similar sounds have been observed elsewhere, due to the
splitting off of very small particles of stone by sudden expansion.
Whatever the cause of these mysterious sounds, the speaking statue has
served as an inspiration to many poets.


Few pleasure trips are more enjoyable than a steamer ride down the Nile
from Luxor to Cairo. My plans did not permit an extensive Nile trip, so
I went up the Nile by rail and came down by the Amenartas, one of Cook's
small boats. For one who has the leisure the best scheme is to take one
of Cook's express boats and make the round trip to Assouan from Cairo.
The Egypt and the Arabia are two luxurious steamers specially arranged
for the comfort of tourists.

The Nile at Luxor is about a half-mile wide at extreme low water in
December, although the marks on the bank show that it spreads over
several miles of flat land when the heavy rains come in June and July.
It is as muddy as the Missouri or the San Joaquin, but the natives drink
this water, refusing to have it filtered. They claim, and probably with
reason, that this Nile water is very nutritious. The Egyptian fellah or
peasant seldom enjoys a hot meal. He chews parched Indian corn and sugar
cane, and eats a curious bread made of coarse flour and water. Despite
this monotonous diet the native is a model of physical vigor, with teeth
which are as white and perfect as those of a Pueblo Indian.

All around Luxor are evidences of the tremendous force of the Nile
waters when in flood. At various headlands near the city the banks of
the Nile have been stoned up with solid walls, so that these may
receive the full sweep of the flood waters. The great dam at Assouan,
perhaps the finest bit of engineering work in the world, holds up the
main current of the Nile and prevents the destructive floods which in
the old days frequently swept away all the soil of the fellah's little
farm. This dam has now been increased twelve feet in height, so that no
water pours over the top.

The farmers in Egypt irrigate in the same way as the ryots of India.
They lay off a field into small rectangular patches, with a ridge around
each to keep the irrigation water in it. These rectangles make the
fields look like huge checker-boards. Plowing is done exactly as in the
time of Cleopatra. A forked stick, often not shod with iron, serves as a
plow, to which are frequently harnessed a camel and a bullock by a
heavy, unwieldy yoke. When these two unequally yoked animals move across
the field, agriculture in the Orient is seen at its best. Unlike the
Japanese, the Egyptian women do not work in the fields. Their labors
seem to be limited to carrying water in large jars on their heads and to
washing clothes in the dirty Nile water. The most common sight along the
river is that of two women, with their single cotton garment gathered up
above their knees, filling the water jars or rinsing out clothes in
water that is thick and yellow with dirt.

The steamer Amenartas started down the river at two in the afternoon.
The current was strong and the little steamer easily made fifteen miles
an hour. Now began a series of exquisite views of river life, which
changed every minute and saved the voyage from monotony. The first thing
that impresses the stranger who is new to Egypt is the number and
variety of the shadoufs for bringing the Nile water to the fields.
These consist of three platforms, each equipped with two upright posts
of date palm trunks, with a crossbar. From this crossbar depends a well
sweep, with a heavy weight at one end and a tin or wooden bucket at the
other. One man at the level of the river scoops up a bucket of water and
lifts it to the height or his head, pouring it into a small basin of
earth. The second man fills his bucket from this basin and in turn
delivers it to the third man, who is about six feet above him. The third
man raises the water to the height of his head and pours it into a ditch
which carries it upon the land. The heavy weights on the shadouf help to
raise the water, but the labor of lifting this water all day is
strenuous. The shadouf men work with only small loin cloths, and
occasionally one of these fellows in a sheltered hole toils stark naked.

Despite the fact that their work is as heavy as any done in Egypt, they
receive the wretched pittance of two piasters or ten cents a day, out of
which they must spend two and one-half cents a day for food. The shadouf
is as old as history, and the methods in use for raising this Nile water
are the same to-day that they were in the earliest dawn of recorded

As in India, there is a great dearth of farmhouses in these rich lands.
The peasants are herded in squalid villages, the mud huts jammed close
together, and the whole place overrun with goats, donkeys, pigs,
chickens and pigeons. The houses are the crudest huts, with no window
and no roof.

Life in these villages along the Nile is as primitive as it is among the
Pueblo Indians of Arizona and New Mexico. Although their religion
admonishes them to wash before prayers, these peasants appear to pay
little heed to such rites. Men, women and children are extremely dirty,
and it is unusual to find anyone with good eyes. Inflammation of the
eyelids is the most common complaint and this disease is aggravated by
the fact that the natives make no effort to drive away the flies that
fasten upon the sore eyes of their little children. This is due to the
common superstition that it brings ill luck to brush off flies. At every
small station where the steamer stopped to land native passengers and
freight a score of villagers would be lined up, each afflicted with some
eye complaint, and all swarming with small black flies.

At only a few towns along the Nile from Luxor to Cairo were there any
houses which looked like comfortable homes. The great majority of the
houses were of sun-dried brick, and these were often in a ruinous
condition. Yet with their framework of graceful date palms, these
squalid villages would delight the eye of an artist. For nearly the
whole distance the west side of the Nile is marked off from the desert
by the high Libyan mountains, gleaming white and yellow in the brilliant
sunshine. These limestone cliffs were chosen for the tombs of the kings
at Thebes, and all along the river one could make out with a glass
frequent tombs carved in the steep sides of these hills. The other side
of the river was flat, with low ranges of hills. At sunrise and at
sunset the most exquisite colors transformed the country into a
veritable fairyland. The sun sank behind bands of purple and amethyst,
and his last rays brought out in sharp silhouette the statuesque forms
of women water-carriers and long lines of laden camels moving in ghostly
silence along the river bank. Very beautiful also were the pictures made
by the dahabiehs and other native boats, with their big lateen sails and
with the motley gathering of natives in the stern. All these boats have
enormous rudders which rise high out of the water and add greatly to the
effectiveness of the picture as seen against the sunset glow.

The atmosphere along the Nile is wonderfully clear, the sky is as blue
and lustrous as fine silk, and the wind blows up clouds in fantastic
shapes, which add greatly to the beauty of the scenery. All day the
little steamer passes half-ruined villages, embowered in feathery palms,
with camels in the background and an occasional bullock straining at the
wheel which lifts the Nile water on the shadouf. All day natives passed
along the sky line, some on donkeys, others on camels, still others
driving in front laden animals, whose forms could scarcely be
distinguished amid the thick clouds of dust raised by their heavy feet.
The creak of the shadoufs could be heard before we came abreast of the
tireless workers.

Seen from the steamer the glamour of the Orient was over all this
poverty-stricken land, but seen near at hand were revealed all the ugly
features of dirt, disease, hopeless poverty, unending work that yields
only the coarsest and scantiest food. We passed miles on miles of waving
fields of sugar cane, with great factories where this cane was worked up
into sugar. We passed broad fields of cotton, with factories near at
hand for converting the product into cloth. Principalities of
wheat--great seas of emerald green that stood out against a background of
sandy desert--lined the banks at frequent intervals. But all these
evidences of the new wealth that scientific irrigation has brought to
this ancient valley of the Nile means nothing to the Egyptian peasant.
These great industries are in the hands of native or foreign
millionaires, who see to it that the wages of the native workers are
kept down to the lowest level.


Wintry winds in Cairo, which raised clouds of dust and sand, prevented
me from seeing the pyramids until after my return from Luxor. Then one
still, warm day it was my good fortune to see at their best these oldest
monuments of man's work on this earth. Yet impressive as are these great
masses of stone rising from barren wastes of sand, they did not affect
me so powerfully as the ruins of Karnak and the tombs of the Kings of
Thebes. Three pyramids were constructed at Gizeh and four other groups
at Sakkara, the site of the ancient city of Memphis. That these pyramids
were built for the tombs of kings has now been demonstrated beyond
question, so that the many elaborate theories of the religious
significance of these monuments may be dismissed. The ancient city of
Memphis was for centuries the seat of the government of Egypt, and the
tombs that may be seen to-day at Sakkara preceded the rock-hewn tombs at
Thebes in Upper Egypt. The great antiquity of the tombs at Sakkara makes
these of importance, although much of the work is inferior to that at

The pictures of the pyramids are misleading. They give the impression
that these great masses of stone rise near palm groves and that the
Sphinx is almost as huge as the pyramid of Cheops which overshadows it.
In reality, the pyramids are set on a sandy plateau, about fifteen feet
high, while the Sphinx is practically buried in a hollow to the west of
the great pyramid and can only be seen from one direction. When you
stand in front of the big pyramid you can form no idea of its size, but
you know from the guide book that it is seven hundred and fifty feet
long and four hundred and fifty-one feet high. The height of each side
is five hundred and sixty-eight feet, while the angle of the sides is
fifty-one degrees fifty minutes. These statistics do not make much
impression on the mind but, when it is said that this huge pyramid
actually covers thirteen acres, the mind begins to grasp the stupendous
size of this great mass of masonry. This pyramid to-day is of dirty
brown color, but when finished it was covered with blocks of white

These were removed by various builders and have served to erect mosques
and temples. Had this covering remained intact it would be impossible to
climb the pyramid of Cheops. From Cairo and the Nile, as well as from
the desert, the pyramids are an impressive sight. Unique in shape and
massive as the Libyan hills beyond them, they can never be forgotten,
for they represent more perfectly than any other remains in Egypt the
control by the early kings of unlimited labor and materials.

It used to be the fashion to sneer at the stories told by Herodotus, but
the excavations in Egypt during the last thirty years have demonstrated
that this old Greek traveler was an accurate observer and that what he
saw may be accepted as fact. He was the first to give any detailed
description of the pyramids and of the enormous work of building them.
Herodotus visited Egypt about 450 B. C., and he related that one hundred
thousand men were employed for three months at one time in building the
great pyramid of Cheops. The stone was quarried near the site of the
citadel in Cairo, and ten years were consumed in constructing a great
road across the desert to Gizeh by which the stone was transported. The
remains of this road, formed of massive stone blocks, may now be seen
near the Sphinx. The construction of the big pyramid alone required
twenty years. The story of Herodotus that one hundred thousand men were
once employed on this pyramid is plausible, according to
Flinders-Petrie, as these months came during the inundation of the Nile,
when there was no field work to occupy their time.

The ascent of the pyramid is an easy task for any one in good physical
condition and accustomed to gymnastic work. Two Bedouins assist you from
the front while an ancient Sheik is supposed to help push you from the
rear. In my case the Bedouins had a very easy job, while the Sheik
enjoyed a sinecure. The stones are about a yard high, and the only
difficulty of the ascent lies in the straddle which must be made to
cover these stones. The ascent is made on the northeast corner of the
pyramid, and much help is gained by inequalities in the great slabs of
limestone which enable one to get a foothold. Two rests were made on the
upward climb, but we came down without any rest, covering the whole trip
in about fifteen minutes.

The view from the summit is superb. On two sides, the south and west,
sketches the sandy desert, broken only by the groups of pyramids at
Abusir, Sakkara and Dashhur, which mark the bounds of the ancient city
of Memphis.

The average tourist has more curiosity about the Sphinx than about the
pyramids, and here the reality is not disappointing. An impressive
figure is this of a recumbent stone lion one hundred and eighty-seven
feet long and sixty-six feet high, with a man's head that is full of
power and pride. The nose is gone and the face is badly scarred, but
here is the typical Egyptian face, with the fine setting of the eyes and
the graceful head.

The journey to the rock tombs of Sakkara and the site of ancient Memphis
is tedious, as it includes a ride across the sandy desert of eighty
miles. A stop is made at the old house of Mariette, the famous French
Egyptologist, who uncovered many of the finest remains in Memphis. Near
by is the Step pyramid, the tomb of a king of the fifth dynasty and one
of the oldest monuments in Egypt.

Near by are several pyramids and tombs that will repay a visit, as each
gives some new idea of the extraordinary care taken by the ancient
Egyptians to preserve their dead and to assure them proper guidance in
the land beyond the tomb.

In one chapel are exquisitely carved mural reliefs, many of which still
retain their original colors. In these chambers the hot, dry air is like
that of the desert. A hundred years seem like a day in this atmosphere,
where nothing changes with the changing seasons. Under one's feet is the
soft, dry dust stirred up by the feet of many tourists, but rain and
sunshine never penetrate this home of the dead, and a century passes
without leaving a mark on these inscriptions which were chiseled long
before the children of Israel made their escape from bondage in Egypt.
It seems incredible that so many momentous things should have occurred
while in these still, warm tombs day followed day without change.

[Illustration: PLATE LVII

          A Typical Street in Old Cairo.
  These Buildings Show the Architecture of Cairo,
        With a Mosque on the Left With Dome
                   and Minaret]

[Illustration: PLATE LVIII

  An Arab Cafe In One
  of Cairo's Streets.
  The Open Air Cafes,
  Facing the Sidewalk,
    Abound In Cairo.
    The Smokers and
  Coffee-Drinkers Pay
    No Attention to

[Illustration: PLATE LIX

   Women Water Carriers in Turkish Costume.
  One of These Women is Uncovered, While the
    Other Wears the Yashmak or Face Mask.
        They Carry Large Water Jars on
                 Their Heads]

[Illustration: PLATE LX

               The Rameseon at Karnak.
  Six Colossal Statues of Rameses II of Which Three
              Are in Fair Preservation]

[Illustration: PLATE LXI

      The Avenue of
   Sphinxes at Karnak.
   The Road From Luxor
   to Karnak Was Lined
  With Recumbent Rams,
  Called Krio-Sphinxes,
   Many of Which Still

[Illustration: PLATE LXII

    An Arab Village on the
       Nile. This Is a
     Typical Village, the
  Houses of Sun-dried Brick,
     like the California
        Adobe, and the
         Whole Shaded
          By Palms]

[Illustration: PLATE LXIII

       The Colossi of Memnon, near Thebes.
  These Gigantic Figures on the West Bank of the
    Nile May Be Seen for Many Miles. They are
    Sixty-five Feet High, and Stood Originally
              in Front of a Temple]

[Illustration: PLATE LXIV

       The Great Sphinx, Showing the Temple
  Underneath. This is the Best View of the Face,
  Which Has a Certain Majesty. The Lion's Figure
      is Sixty-six Feet High and One Hundred
           and Eighty-seven Feet Long]




For a round-the-world trip the best plan is to buy a Cook's ticket for
six hundred and thirty-nine dollars and ten cents. This provides
transportation from any place in the United States around the world to
the starting point. The advantage of a Cook's ticket over the tickets of
other companies is that this firm has the best organized force, with
large offices in the big cities and with banks as agencies in hundreds
of places where you may cash its money orders. This is a great
convenience as it saves the risk of carrying considerable sums of money
in lands where thievery is a fine art. Cook's agents may be found on
arrival by boat or train in all the principal cities of a world-tour.
These men invariably speak English well, and thus they are a god-send
when the tourist knows nothing of the language or the customs of a
strange country. At the offices of Cook and Son in all the large
Oriental cities one may get accurate information about boats and trains
and may purchase tickets for side excursions. Some of the Oriental
offices I found careless in the handling of mail because of the
employment of native clerks, but this was not general. Cook will furnish
guides for the leading Oriental tours and in India and Egypt these are
absolutely necessary, as without them life is made a burden by the
demands of carriage drivers, hotel servants and beggars. Cook will
furnish good guides for Japan, but it is unsafe to select natives unless
you have a guarantee that they know the places usually visited and that
they speak intelligible English. The pronunciation of Japanese differs
so vitally from that of English that many Japanese who understand and
write English well make a hopeless jumble of words when they attempt to
speak it. Their failure to open their mouths or to give emphasis to
words renders it extremely difficult to understand them. Good foreign
hotels may be found in all the Japanese cities and even those managed by
Japanese are conducted in European style. It is a pity that the hotels
are not modeled on the Japanese style, like the Kanaya Hotel at Nikko,
where the furniture and the decorations of the rooms are essentially
Japanese and very artistic. The average charge for room and board in
Japanese hotels of the first class is four dollars, but some of the more
pretentious places demand from five to six dollars a day.

The cost of travel in India is not heavy because of the moderate scale
of prices. Hotels usually charge ten rupees a day for board and lodging
or about three dollars a day. Carriage hire is cheap, especially if you
have a party of four to fill one carriage. A Victoria, holding four
people, may be had morning and afternoon for twenty rupees, or an
average of about one dollar and seventy-five cents a day each. Railway
travel is absurdly cheap. Our party traveled second-class from Calcutta
to Delhi, thence to Bombay, Madras and Tuticorin, a distance of about
thirty-five hundred miles--farther than from New York to San
Francisco--for one hundred and forty rupees or about forty-five dollars
in American money. The first-class fare was nearly twice this amount,
but no additional comfort would have been secured. We made the trip at
low cost because a bargain was always made with hotelkeepers and
carriage drivers. Always make a definite bargain or you will be
overcharged. A native guide is necessary not only to show you the places
of interest but to arrange for carriages and to pay tips to servants.
Secure a Mohammedan guide and you may rest content that you will not be
cheated. His antipathy to the Hindoo will prevent any collusion with
servants. A good guide may be had for two rupees a day or about
sixty-five cents, and he will board himself.

Murray's Guide books for Japan, China, the Straits Settlements and India
are the most useful. These give the best routes and describe all the
principal objects of interest. Without such a guide-book, one is
helpless, as the professional guides frequently omit important things
which should be seen. It is needless to look for conscientiousness or
honesty in the Orient. You will not find them.

To avoid trouble when hiring carriage or jinrikisha, make a definite
bargain by the hour or by the trip. This you may do through the hotel
porter. Then, on your return, if the driver or the rickshaw-man demands
more, refer the matter to the porter, and refuse to pay more than your
bargain. If you do not take these precautions you will be involved in
constant trouble and will be persistently charged twice what you should
pay. Even with these precautions, you cannot escape trouble in
Singapore, which is cursed with the greediest carriage drivers in the

Many travelers purchase Cook's hotel coupons which provide for lodging
and meals at certain hotels in every large city of the Orient. My
experience is that it is a mistake to buy these coupons, as all the
hotel managers speak English or have hall porters who understand the
language. You gain little by the arrangement, and you lose the choice of
good rooms, as hotel managers are not partial to tourists who carry
coupons, since the profit on these is small.

In Egypt, Cook's tours, which are arranged to suit all tastes, are the
most convenient. The best plan is to go up the Nile by train and to come
down by boat. Do not neglect the ride down the river. It consumes more
time but it is the only way in which you can get an idea of the charm of
the scenery, the primitive life of the people, and the beauty of sunrise
and sunset over the desert.

Above all things, arrange your itinerary carefully before you start.
Here is where Cook's agent can help you materially, but you must not
rely upon his advice in regard to steamship lines. He will recommend the
P. & O. boats, as they are British, but practically every tourist who
has made the trip will say that the North German Lloyd steamers give the
best service. Engage your state-room several months in advance and pay a
deposit, so as to get a receipt for the best berth in a certain room.
Unless you do this, you will have trouble and will probably be forced to
sleep in an inside room on hot tropical nights. Get a room on star-board
or port-side, according to the prevailing wind. To be on the windward
side means comfort and coolness at night. As soon as possible after
boarding a vessel see the bath steward and select an hour for your
morning bath. Should you neglect this, you will be forced to rise very
early or to bathe at night. If you wish certain table companions see the
head steward promptly. If you travel on a P. & O. boat, engage an
electric fan at the Company's office, as there is a rule that you can't
hire a fan after you are on board. The North German Lloyd furnishes
fans, which are a necessity in the tropics.

There is a regular tariff for tips on most of the Oriental steamship
lines, graded according to the length of the voyage. You can always
ascertain what to give to your waiter, room steward, bath steward, boot
black and deck steward. These tips are always given on the last day of
the voyage. American tourists are criminally lavish in giving tips, with
the result that one who adheres to the rules of old travelers, is apt to
be regarded as niggardly. It is to be noted that the richest travelers
always conform to the regular schedule of tips.

In all parts of the Orient it is unsafe to drink the water of the
country. If you do not relish bottled waters, demand tea; at any rate
make sure that the water you drink has been boiled. I found hot tea an
excellent drink even in the tropics and I was never troubled with the
complaints that follow drinking unboiled water. It is well to make
liberal use of the curries and rice which are excellent everywhere.
These, with fish, eggs and fruit, formed the staple of my diet. Never
eat melons nor salads made of green vegetables; the native methods of
fertilizing the soil are fatal to the wholesomeness of such things.



In this bibliography no attempt has been made to cover the field of
books about the leading countries of the Orient. The aim has been to
mention the books which the tourist will find most helpful. Guide books
are indispensable, but they give the imagination no stimulus. It is a
positive help to read one or two good descriptive accounts of any
country before visiting it; in this way one gets an idea of comparative
values. In these notes I have mentioned only the books that are familiar
to me and which I have found suggestive.


Of all foreigners who have written about Japan, Lafcadio Hearn gives one
the best idea of the Japanese character and of the literature that is
its expression. Hearn married a Japanese lady, became Professor of
English Literature at the Imperial University of Tokio, renounced his
American citizenship, and professed belief in Buddhism. He never
mastered the Japanese language but he surpassed every other foreign
student in his ability to make real the singular faith of the Japanese
in the presence of good and evil spirits and the national worship of
beauty in nature and art. Hearn's father was Greek and his mother Irish.
In mind he was a strange mixture of a Florentine of the Renaissance and
a pagan of the age of Pericles. In _The West Indies_ he has given the
best estimate of the influence of the tropics on the white man, and in
_Japan: An Interpretation_, _In Ghostly Japan_, _Exotics and
Retrospections_, and others, he has recorded in exquisite literary style
his conception of Japanese character, myths and folk-legends. His work
in this department is so fine that no one else ranks with him. He seems
to have been able to put himself in the place of the cultivated Japanese
and to interpret the curious national beliefs in good and evil spirits
and ghosts. He has also made more real than any other foreign writer the
peculiar position of the Japanese wife. Hearn was a conservative,
despite his lawless life, and he looked with regret upon the
transformation of old Japan, wrought by the new desire to Europeanize
the country. He paints with great art the idyllic life of the old
Samauri and the loyalty of the retainers to their chief.

Sir Edwin Arnold, who in his old age married a Japanese lady, has given
excellent pictures of life in Japan in _Seas and Lands_ and _Japonica_.
_Religions of Japan_ by W. E. Griffis gives a good idea of the various
creeds. Mr. Griffis in _The Mikado's Empire_ also furnishes a good
description of Japan and the Japanese.

In _Fifty Tears of New Japan_, Count Okuma has compiled a work that
gives a complete survey of Japanese progress during the last half
century. Among the contributors are many of the leading statesmen and
publicists of Japan.

Of fiction, the scene of which is laid in Japan, one of the most famous
stories is _Madame Chrysantheme_ by Pierre Loti, a cynical sketch of the
Japanese geisha, or professional entertainer. Another good story which
lays bare the ugly fate that often befalls the geisha, is _The Lady and
Sada San_ by Frances Little, the author of that popular book, _The Lady
of the Decoration_.

Other books that will be found valuable are Norman, _The New Japan_;
Chamberlain, _Things Japanese_; Treves, _The Other Side of the Lantern_;
Murray, _Handbook of Japan_; Clement, _Handbook of Modern Japan_;
D'Autremer, _The Japanese Empire_; Hartshorne, _Japan and Her People_;
Fraser, _A Diplomatist's Wife In Japan_; Lloyd, _Everyday Japan_;
Scidmore, _Jinrikisha Days In Japan_; Knox, _Japanese Life In Town and
Country_; Singleton, _Japan, As Described By Great Writers_; Inouye,
_Home Life In Tokio_.


The acqusition of the Philippine Islands by the United States has led to
a great increase of the literature on the islands, especially in regard
to educational and industrial progress. Among the old books that have
good sketches of Manila are _A Visit to the Philippine Islands_ by Sir
John Browning.

For sketches of the city since the American occupation see Worcester,
_The Philippine Islands and Their People_; Landor, _The Gems of the
East_; Dennis, _An Observer in the Philippines_; Potter, _The East
To-day and Tomorrow_; Moses, _Unofficial Letters of An Official's Wife_;
Hamm, _Manila and the Philippines_; Younghusband, _The Philippines and
Round About_; Stevens, _Yesterdays in the Philippines_; Arnold, The
Philippines, _the Land of Palm and Pine_; and LeRoy, _Philippine Life in
Town and Country_.


Good descriptive sketches of Hongkong may be found in Norman, _The
Peoples and Politics of the Far East_; Des Veux, _A Handbook of
Hongkong_; Colquhoun, _China in Transformation_; Penfield, _East of
Suez_; Treves, _The Other Side of the Lantern_; Ball, _Things Chinese_;
Thomson, _The Changing Chinese_; Singleton, _China As Described by Great
Writers_; and Liddell, China, _Its Marvel and Mystery_.


Sir Stamford Raffles, the founder of Singapore, was one of the
British Empire builders who was very shabbily treated by the English
government. Unaided, he prevented the Dutch from obtaining exclusive
control over all the waters about Singapore and he was also
instrumental in retaining Malacca, after the East India Company had
decided to abandon it. He was appointed Lieutenant-Governor of
Java after the English wrested the island from the Dutch in 1810.
His ambition was to make Java "the center of an Eastern Insular
Empire," but this project was thwarted by the restoration of Java
to Holland. The Raffles Museum in Singapore, one of the most
interesting in the Orient, was his gift.

Sketches of Singapore may be found in Sir Frank Swettenham's
_British Malaya_, _Malay Sketches_ and _The Real Malay_; Wright and
Reed, _The Malay Peninsula_; Belfield, _Handbook of the Federated
Malay States_; Harrison, _Illustrated Guide to the Federated Malay
States_; Ireland, _The Far Eastern Tropics_; Boulger, _Life of Sir
Stamford Raffles_; Buckley, _Records of Singapore_.


There is a large literature on Burma, which seems to have appealed to
British travelers. Among the books that have chapters devoted to Rangoon
are Cuming, _In the Shadow of the Pagoda_; Bird, _Wanderings in Burma_;
Hart, _Picturesque Burma_; Kelly, _The Silken East_; MacMahon, _Far
Cathay and Farther India_; Vincent, _The Land of the White Elephant_;
Nisbet, _Burma Under British Rule and Before_; Hall, _The Soul of a
People_ and _A People at School_.


The literature about India is very extensive, so that only a few of the
best books may be mentioned here. To the tourist the one indispensable
book is Murray's _Handbook for Travelers in India, Ceylon and Burma_,
which is well provided with maps and plans of cities. For general
description, among the best works are Malcolm, _Indian Pictures and
Problems_; Scidmore, _Winter India_; Forrest, _Cities of India_;
Kipling, _From Sea to Sea_; Stevens, _In India_; Arnold, _India
Revisited_; Low, _A Vision of India_ (describing the journey of the
Prince of Wales in 1905-6); Caine, _Picturesque India_; _Things Seen in

For the history of India, some of the best books are Lane-Poole,
_Mediæval India_ and _The Mogul Emperors_; Fanshawe, _Delhi, Past and
Present_; McCrindle, _Ancient India_; Rhys-Davids, _British India_;
Roberts, _Forty-one Tears in India_; Holmes, _History of the Indian
Mutiny_; Innes, _The Sepoy Revolt_; Curzon, _Russia in Central Asia_;
Colquhoun, _Russia Against India_.

On the religions of India: Rhys-Davids, _Buddhism_; Warren, _Buddhism in
Translations_; Clarke, _Ten Great Religions_; Hopkins, _Religions of
India_; Arnold, _The Light of Asia_.


Egypt has changed so much during the last twenty years that books
written before that time are practically obsolete. The dahabiyeh is no
longer used for Nile travel, except by tourists of means and large
leisure, since the tourist steamers make the trip up and down the Nile
in one quarter the time consumed by the old sailing vessels. Cairo has
been transformed into a European city and even Luxor is modernized, with
its immense hotels and its big foreign winter colony.

Bædeker's Egypt is the best guide book, but be sure that you get the
latest edition, as the work is revised every two or three years. The
introductory essays in this volume on Egyptian history, religion, art
and Egyptology are well worth careful reading. The descriptions of the
ruins and the significance of many of the hieroglyphs are helpful. Of
general descriptive works on Egypt, some of the best are Penfield,
_Present Day Egypt_ (1899); Jeremiah Lynch, _Egyptian Sketches_, a book
by a San Franciscan which gives a series of readable pictures of Cairo
and the voyage up the Nile; Holland, _Things Seen in Egypt_.

Of Egypt, before it was transformed by the British, standard
works are Lane, _Cairo Fifty Tears Ago_; Lady Duff-Gordon, _Letters
From Egypt_ (covering the period from 1862 to 1869). Good
historical works are Lane-Poole, _Egypt, and the Story of Cairo_;
Ebers, _Egypt, Descriptive, Historical, and Picturesque_.

Of the administration of England in Egypt, the best book is
Lord Cromer's _Modern Egypt_. Other works are Milner, _England
in Egypt_; Colvin, _The Making of Modern Egypt_. The story of
Gordon's death at Khartoum is well told in Stevens, _With Kitchener
to Khartoum_ and Churchill, _The River War_.

Several valuable works on Egyptian archeology have been written by
Maspero and Flinders-Petrie. Maspero's _Art in Egypt_, which is lavishly
illustrated, will be valuable as a guide book. Flinders-Petrie's
_Egyptian Decorative Art_ is worth reading.


Agra, East Indian city of interesting features, 111;
  the Taj Mahal, 112-116

Arjmand, favorite wife of Shah Jehan, for whom the Taj was built, 112

Benares, sacred city of the Hindoos, 100-105;
  bathing ghats along the Ganges, 100-102;
  toll levied by priests on all bathers, 103;
  burning the dead by the river banks, 104-105;
  funeral ceremonies, 105

Bombay, gateway of India, 123-134;
  beauty of public buildings, 123-124;
  the Apollo Bunder, 124;
  importance of the Parsees in city life, 124-1126;
  reception to King George V, 127;
  holiday street scenes, 128;
  religion and customs of the Parsees, 129-130;
  wedding ceremonies, 132;
  "Towers of Silence" where dead are exposed to vultures, 133-134

Buddhism, temples at Nikko, 17;
  greatest temple, the Shwe Dagon Pagoda at Rangoon, 90;
  first residence of Buddha at Sarnath, near Benares, 100

Cairo, the capital of Egypt, 137-142;
  much Europeanized since Ismail's time, 138-139;
  the Street of the Camel, 138-140;
  Esbekiyeh Gardens, 140;
  shopping in the great Muski bazar, 141;
  Island of Roda, where Moses was found, 142;
  scenes in the old native city, 142

Calcutta, greatest commercial port of India, 95-99;
  former capital, 95;
  the Maidan or Esplanade, 95-96;
  Eden Gardens, 95;
  scene of the Black Hole, 96;
  caste marks, 97;
  scenes in bathing ghats on the Hoogly, 98;
  native quarter, 98-99;
  botanical gardens with great banyan tree, 99;
  Imperial Museum, 99

Canton, the great business center of China, 72-79;
  exodus of people during revolution, 73;
  boat city on the Pearl river, 73-74;
  "hot-foot" boats, 75;
  inside the ancient walls, 76-77;
  deserted stores on main street, 76;
  Buddhist Temple of Horrors, 77;
  great rush of refugees, 77-78;
  scene of the assassination of Tartar general, 78;
  old Buddhist water clock, 78

Cawnpore, scene of the worst massacre in the Sepoy mutiny, 109-110;
  fatal mistake of General Wheeler, 109;
  treachery of Nana Sahib, 110;
  butchery of women and children, 110

Chator, Sir Paul, who made Hongkong a great city, 81

Delhi, ancient Mogul capital of India, 117-122;
  tombs of Moslem emperors, 117-118;
  squalor of common people, 119;
  Mogul palaces and mosques, 119-120;
  the Kutab Minar, 120-121;
  memorials of the mutiny, 121-122;
  fighting at Kabul gate, 122

Egypt, the land of tombs, pyramids and mummies, 137-164;
  railroad ride from Port Said, 138;
  features of the country, 138-139;
  Cairo and its picturesque life, 138-142;
  Luxor and Karnak ruins of finest temples of ancient Egypt, 143-149;
  Thebes, tomb city of the Egyptian Kings, 150-155;
  sailing down the Nile, 156-160;
  Pyramids and the Sphinx, 161-164

Havelock, English General who fought his way into Lucknow and
    helped defend the city against hordes of mutineers, 108

Hideyoshi, Napoleon of Japan, his memory revered, 19;
  his castle, 29

Hongkong, greatest British port in the Orient, 65-71;
  its fine public buildings and spacious water-front, 66;
  splendid shops on Queen's road, 67;
  picturesque street crowds, 68;
  mixture of races, 68;
  night scenes in native quarter, 69;
  cable railway to the peak, 70;
  costly residences on mountain side, 70;
  Kowloon City, 71

India, the most interesting country of the Orient, 95-104;
  Calcutta, most beautiful of Indian cities, 95-99;
  Benares, the sacred city of the Hindoos, 100-105;
  Lucknow and Cawnpore, cities of the mutiny, 106-110;
  Agra and the Taj Mahal, 111-116;
  Delhi, the ancient Mogul capital and now the British
    capital, 117-122;
  Bombay, the European gateway of India, 123-134;
  the Parsees and their curious customs, 129-134

Japan, Yokohama, 3;
  aspect of rural life, 4;
  bull, the beast of burden 5;
  the jinrikisha, 5;
  great courtesy of all classes, 6;
  women as field hands, 8;
  Tokio, the picturesque capital, 10-15;
  Nikko, city of temples, 16-21;
  Kyoto, the ancient capital, famous for gardens and art work, 22-27;
  railway travel, 22-23;
  Osaka, chief manufacturing city, 29;
  Inland Sea, 30;
  Nagasaki, 30-32;
  development of sense of beauty, 34-37;
  influence of the garden on artistic sense, 34-35;
  are the Japanese honest? 28-39;
  influence of Christianity, 41-42;
  the sampan, 43;
  influence of military training, 45-46;
  loyalty to country, 46-47

Karnak, the greatest temple of ancient Egypt, 147-149;
  its enormous size, 147;
  its hypostile hall, one of the wonders of the world, 147-148;
  hieroglyphs of Seti and Rameses, 148;
  obelisks erected by Queen Hatasu, 148;
  colossal statues and columns, 148;
  cost in human life, 149

Kobe, greatest commercial seaport of Japan, 28-29;
  its many foreign schools, colleges and missions, 28

Kyoto, ancient Japanese capital, 22-27;
  richly decorated temples, 24;
  satsuma, cloissone and damascene work, 24-25;
  attractive shops, 26;
  great bronze Daibutsa, 26;
  oldest Buddhist temple in Japan, 27

Lawrence, Sir Henry, to whose wise precautions the British in Lucknow
    owed their lives during the mutiny; he was killed in the early
    days of the siege, 107.

Lucknow, scene of the most famous siege in the Indian mutiny, 106-109;
  ruins of the Residency, 106;
  story of the siege, 107-108;
  memorial tablets to British heroes, 108

Luxor, with ruins of the finest temple in Egypt, 143-146;
  built by Amenophis III; restored and enlarged by
    Rameses II, 143-144;
  plan of the temple, 144-145;
  Rameses exposed by Egyptologists, 146;
  temple of Karnak, 147-149

Manila, capital of Philippines and American naval base in
    Far East, 51-62;
  hospitality of Americans, 52;
  reenforced concrete favorite building material, 52;
  its splendid docks, 52;
  the Escolta, 52;
  the Bridge of Spain, 53;
  the carabao or water buffalo, 53;
  old walled city, 54;
  historical gates, 54;
  famous churches, 55;
  doors open to the ambitious Filipino youths, 56;
  influence of American schools, 56-57;
  Dr. George W. Wright on religious work in Philippines, 56-57;
  sanitary reforms which have made Manila healthy port, 57;
  work of the Constabulary Guard, 58;
  scenes on the Luneta, 60;
  nipa huts of natives, 61-62;
  fondness of people for music, 62;
  American gramophones in native huts, 62

Nana Sahib, the evil genius of the Indian mutiny, who broke faith
    with prisoners at Cawnpore, shot the men, and ordered
    125 women and children butchered and cast into a well, 109

Nara, seat of oldest temples in Japan, 26-27;
  tame deer in park, 26

Nicholson, John, Brigadier-General, the ablest man the Indian mutiny
    produced, 121;
  he led the British march on Delhi and fell at the storming of
    the Lahore gate, 122

Nagasaki, great Japanese seaport, 30-33;
  girls coaling steamers, 31-32;
  trip to Mogi, 33

Nikko, the Japanese city of temples, 16-21;
  eighth century Buddhist temple, 17;
  Sacred Red Bridge, 17;
  imperial tombs, 17-19;
  school pilgrimages, 19;
  famous cryptomeria avenue to Imaichi, 20-21

Nile, sailing down the, 156-160;
  importance of river to Egypt, 156;
  ancient method of irrigation by shadouf, 157-158;
  poor pay for hard work, 158;
  prevalence of eye diseases, 159;
  squalid homes of the natives, 160;
  beauty of views along the Nile, 160

Osaka, Japan's chief manufacturing city, 29;
  Hideyoshi's castle, 29

Parsees, importance in municipal life of Bombay, 129;
  religion that of Zoroaster, 129-130;
  gifts by rich Parsee merchants, 131;
  quaint marriage customs, 132;
  towers of silence where dead are exposed, 133-135

Pyramids, among the oldest human work on earth, 161-163;
  size and cost of construction, 162-163;
  ascent of Gizeh, 163;
  features of the Sphinx, 164;
  rock tombs of Sakkara, 164

Raffles, Sir Stamford, the maker of Singapore and founder of great
    Malayan museum, 81

Rangoon, Burma's largest city, 89-92;
  elephants piling teak, 89-90;
  Shwe Dagon Pagoda, center of the Buddhist faith in Orient, 90-91;
  splendid decoration of shrines, 91-92

Shah Jehan, the greatest builder among the Mogul Emperors of India,
    who immortalized his name by erecting the Taj Mahal, 112

Singapore, gateway to the Far East, 80-88;
  humidity of atmosphere, 80;
  world's largest dry dock, 81;
  Sir Stamford Raffles, 81;
  great mixture of races, 81-82;
  traits of the Malay, 83;
  importance of Chinese, 84-85;
  night scenes in Malay and Chinese quarters, 85-87;
  large opium dens, 87;
  fine botanical gardens, 88

Taj Mahal, the world's most beautiful building at Agra, India, 111-116;
  built by Shah Jehan as memorial to favorite wife, 112;
  cost in money and human life, 112;
  its perfect architecture, 114;
  lavish decoration, 115;
  restoration by Lord Curzon, 116

Thebes, tomb city of the ancient Egyptian kings, 150-155;
  desolate site across the Nile from Luxor, 150-151;
  electric-lighted tombs, 151;
  rock-hewn tomb of Rameses IV, 152;
  tombs of other monarchs, 152-153;
  only one contains royal mummy, 154;
  fine temple of Queen Hatasu, 153;
  the Ramessium, with largest statue found in Egypt, 154;
  Colossi of Memnon, 154;
  why one of the statues was musical, 155

Tokio, the Japanese capital, 10-15;
  its splendid parks, 11-13-14;
  imperial palace, 13;
  tombs of six shoguns, 14;
  night work in shops, 15

Wheeler, General, whose confidence in his native troops,
    cost the lives of all the garrison of Cawnpore, 109

Yokohama, much Europeanized Japanese city, 3;
  good tourist outfitting point, 4



Inconsistencies in the hyphenation of words retained. (hotfoot,

In the original text, captions of plates and illustrations did not have
terminating punctuation except for the caption of Plate XXXVII. This
caption had a terminating period which has been retained.

In the original text, italic typeface was used for the entire text and
headings of the chapters "Introduction" and "The Best Results of Travel
in the Orient". In the plaintext version of this ebook, the usual
underscore markup has not been used to indicate italic type in these
chapters. Elsewhere in the text, occasional words in italic typeface
have been marked up with underscores.

Pg. 12, unusual spelling of "embassadors" retained.

Pg. 12, duplicated word "of" removed. (mansions of the Japanese")

Pg. 112, duplicated word "on" removed. (little trace on its walls)

Pg. 161, "hugh" changed to "huge". (as huge as the pyramid)

Index. In the original text, the last sub-item of an index entry did not
end with any terminating punctuation except for the index entry
"Lawrence, Sir Henry". This entry had a terminating period which
has been retained.

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Critic in the Orient" ***

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