BOOKS.

MISS BIRD'S JAPAN.*

[FIRST NOTICE.] REA.DERS of these volumes, if they should have entertained an idea of visiting Japan, will probably relinquish their purpose by the time they have made themselves acquainted with what Miss Bird has to say. Not that the picture which she draws is in all respects an unpleasant one—it is anything but that—but simply because a perusal of her book is very nearly the same thing, in effect, as a visit to the places which she describes would be. It has been our lot to read many praiseworthy and painstaking works upon Japan and upon other remote places, and we have generally noticed that everything is set forth in them, with the exception of precisely those homely, common- place, unorthodox things which we especially longed to hear about, and which, were we on the spot, we should most eagerly and absorbingly have studied. Miss Bird differs from other travellers in divining this unregenerate longing of ours, and ministering to it on every opportunity. She invariably tells us what we want to know, and if she also treats of other matters, she does so aside from the current of her main narrative, and in a manner to render our premeditated resolve to skip such passages delightfully easy. The conviction, inspired by her Rocky Mountain romance, published last year, that Miss Bird is the ideal traveller, in whom those who stay at home may safely confide as their proxy, still remains with us ; though it must be admitted that the present work is more of a " book" than the former one, and in so far less persuasive and fascin- ating. The letters are there ; but there are interpolations and additions, which diminish the charm in proportion as they augment the usefulness of the volumes. Anything like a con- scientious determination to be edifying- or instructive we do most earnestly deprecate in Miss Bird's case. She can, outside of all that, do what no one else can do so well, and it is simply adulterating a pure and rare literary gift for her to attempt to do anything more. Let her leave history, missionaries, ethics, and statistics to those numerous excellent persons who can persuade themselves that such matters have value ; and give us nothing but those inimitable pictures of mankind, of scenery, and of her own contingent adventures, which she alone is com- petent to furnish us withal. Further than this, we have no remonstrance to offer.

• Unbeaten Tracks in Japan. By Isabella. Bird. London John Murray.

So inveterately feminine is Miss Bird in the midst of her intrepidity and heroic achievements, that we are continually moved pharisaically to thank Heaven in her behalf that she is not as any men are. When she got to Yedo, and found every- thing so strange, she began to feel afraid of what lay before her ; and this alarm seems to have been enhanced rather than. relieved by the encouragements of Sir Harry Parkes and others. whom she consulted. The apprehensive chill which precedes. feminine action is not to be removed by minimising, but by magnifying, the expected perils. Moreover, the choice of a.. guide was attended with many misgivings, and when at last.

that all-important personage was selected, there was too much. reason to believe that he was more clever than trustworthy. Ito.

was his name,—a Japanese youth of eighteen; he told lies,. scoffed at religion, emphasised his "commissions," and deceived.

his former employer ; but he understood English, was active,. energetic, and acute, and in the sequel turned out a great deal_

better than he had any business to do. "Yon will have to. manage that boy," some one said to Miss Bird, in discussing.

him with her ; whereat the lady professes consternation, and affirms (with evident sincerity) that she never managed anybody in her life. This only goes to chow that a person's eyes may be very keen for some things, and very blind for others ; since.

nothing is more certain than that Miss Bird did "manage," not,. Ito only, but the whole Japanese nation, high and low, in–

eluding the horses, and not forgetting the savage inhabitants of Yezo, at the north. The only creatures which seem uniformly to have defied her authority were the fleas and the mosquitoes but Japan would be some other place, and not Japan, without them.

So she set off in a kurunta, which is a sort of Oriental bath– chair, pulled before and pushed behind by man-power; and the men in question, who practically wear nothing but tobacco–

pouches, and who die of heart or lung diseases before the age of thirty, are meanwhile the most good-natured, tireless, and polite- young fellows imaginable, and charge rather less than four shillings a day for a run of thirty miles. The first halt was at, a wayside tea-house, where Miss Bird eat in a garden consisting of " baked mud, smooth stepping-stones, a little pond with some gold-fish, a deformed pine, and a stone lantern." These tea- houses are distinct from the yadoya, or inns, in one of which. the traveller spent the ensuing night. A. large, bematted room is separated into any desired number of rooms by the simple

device of putting up shoji, or screens ; but the privacy thus acquired is far from being complete. The screens contain. numerous cracks and holes, at which appear dark, elongated_ eyes, belonging to the Japanese co-inmates. The fleas and mosquitoes are 'present in myriads, and as night comes on,.

the new noises are bewildering. " On one side, a man recited: Buddhist prayers in a high key ; on the other, a girl was twanging a- samisen, a species of guitar ; the house was full of talking and splashing, drums and tom-toms were beaten outside ;. there were street-cries innumerable, and the whistling of the blind shampooers, and the resonant clap of the fire-watchmen_ who perambulate all Japanese villages, and beat two pieces of

wood together in token of their vigilance, were intolerable." Nevertheless, Miss Bird declares that "there is no country in.

the world in which a lady can travel with such absolute security from danger and rudeness as in Japan ;" and unquestionably. the record of her pilgrimage bears out the assertion. It must, be added, however, that in the middle of the night her "pre- carious shoji were accidentally thrown down, revealing a scene. of great hilarity, in which a number of people were bathing and throwing water over each other."

Such was the state of things in the yadoya throughout the. journey ; but the private houses, when she happened. to stop at one of them, were very different :-

• ` Kanaya's sister, a very sweet, sefined-looking woman, met me at the door, and divested me of my boots. The two verandahs are highly polished, and so are the entrance and the stairs which lead to my room, and the mats are so fine and white that I almost fear to walk over them even in my stockings. Four highly polished steps lead into an exquisite room at the back, and another polished staircase into the bath-house and garden. The whole front of my room is composed of shoji, which slide back during the day. The ceiling. is of light wood crossed by bars of dark wood, and the posts *hich support it are of dark, polished wood. The panels are of wrinkled; sky-blue paper, splashed with gold. In an alcove hangs a kakemono, or wall-picture, a painting of a blossoming branch of the cherry on white silk,—a perfect piece of art, which in itself fills the room with freshness and beauty. The artist who painted it painted nothing but cherry-blossoms, and fell in the rebellion. On a shelf in the other alcove is a very valuable cabinet, with sliding doors, on which peonies, are painted on a gold ground. A single spray of rose azalea in a pure white vase hanging on one of the polished posts, and a single iris in another, are the only decorations. The only furniture is a folding- screen, with some suggestions of landscape in Indian ink. Kanaya's sister moves about the house like a floating fairy, and her voice-has music in its tones. Supper comes up on a zen, or small table six inches high, with the rice in a gold-lacquer bowl, and the teapot and cup are fine Kegs. porcelain. For my two rooms, with rice and tea, I pay two shillings a day. The house is a Japanese idyl ; there is nothing within or without that does not please the eye; its silence, musical with the dash of waters and the twitter of birds, is truly re- freshing. The garden is well laid out with peonies, irises, and azaleas. The mountain, its lower part covered with red azaleas, rises just behind, and a stream which tumbles down it supplies the house with water both cold and pure ; and another, after forming a miniature cascade, passes under the house, and through a fish-pond with rocky islets, into the river below. The grey village of Irimichi lies on the other side of the road, shut in with the rushing Daiya, and beyond it are high, broken hills, richly wooded, and slashed with ravines and waterfalls."

No wonder that Miss Bird remained at this delightful spot for nearly two weeks, and was sorry to leave it. She made excursions from, it to neighbouring places of interest; and once, at a height of three thousand feet, she came upon a lovely lake lying asleep at the foot of a mountain, a mirror of peace, though on the summit of the mountain " a hundred rusty sword- blades lie,—offerings made by remorseful men, whose deeds of violence haunted them till they went there and deposited the instruments of their crimes before the shrine of the mountain god." But again and again she returns to Kanaya's house, and it seems to embody for her all that is charming in the domestielife of Japan :— '

"The rooms are not encumbered by ornaments; a single kakemono, or fine piece of lacquer or china, appears for a few days, and then makes way for something else, so they have variety as well as simplicity, and each object is enjoyed in its turn without distraction. The art of arranging flowers is taught in manuals, the study of which forms part of a girl's education." But " the only vestige of religion in the house is the kamidana or god-shelf, on which stands a wooden shrine like a shintb temple, which contains the memorial tablets to deceased relations. Each morning a sprig of everygreen and a little rice and sake [Japanepe whiskey] are placed before it, and every evening a lighted lamp."

Of the villages in this region we are told that they are full of shops ; scarcely a house that does not sell something. Many of the things are eatables, but there are also ropes, straw shoes. for men and horses, straw cloaks, paper umbrellas, paper water- proofs, hair-pins, tooth-picks, tobacco-pipes, paper handker- chiefs, and other trifles made of bamboo, straw, grass, and wood. These goods are on stands, and in the room behind, open to the street, all the domestic avocations are going on, and the housewife is usually to be seen boiling water or sewing, with a baby tucked into the back of her dress. There are rice factories, in which the pestle is attached to a lever worked by -the feet of a man, invariably naked, who stands at the other extremity of it. In some houses the women are weaving, in others spinning cotton. There are usually three or four together,—the mother, the eldest son's wife, and two or three unmarried girls. The girls marry at sixteen, and from comely, rosy, wholesome-haring creatures, soon pass into haggard, middle-aged women, with vacant faces. In other houses women are at their toilet, blackening their teeth •before circular metal mirrors, or performing ablutions, unclothed to the waist. In the morning the village is very silent, while the children are at school; but the latter are quiet even at play. At sunset the men return, there is a good deal of splashing about in baths, and after that they carry about the younger children and play with them, while the older ones prepare lessons for the follow- ing day, in a high, monotonous twang. At dark, the paper windows are drawn, the shutters are closed, the lamp is lighted before the family shiine, supper is eaten, the children play at quiet games, and at about ten the quilts and wooden pillows are produced, and the family lies down to sleep, in one room. Small trays of food and tobacco-smoking materials are always within reach of sleepers, and one hears at intervals during the night the sound of ashes being knocked out of a pipe. The children sit up as late as their parents, and are included in all their conversation :-

" I never saw people take so much delight in their children," Miss Bird exclaims, "carrying them about or holding their hands in walk- ing, watching and entering into their games, supplying them con- stantly with toys, taking them to picnics and festivals, and never being content to be without them. Both fathers and mothers take a pride in their children. It is most amusing, about six every morning, to see twelve or fourteen men sitting on a low wall, each with a child under two in his arms, fondling and playing with it, and showing off its physique and intelligence. At night, after the houses

are shut up, looking through the long fringe of rope or rattan which. conceals the sliding door, you see the naked father bending his ugly,. kindly face over a gentle-looking baby ; and the mother, who more- often than not has dropped the kimono from her shoulders, enfolding two children destitute of clothing in her arms. The children, though for our ideas too gentle and formal, are very prepossessing in looks and behaviour. They are little men and women, rather thank children, and their old-fashioned appearance is aided by thoir dress, which is the same as that of adults."

But it is the absence of dress, rather than the presence of it,. which seems to characterise the mass of the unsophisticated, Japanese of the interior ; and in one place, speaking of strange- sights, Miss Bird inquires pathetically :—" Could there be a stranger one than a decent-looking middle-aged man, lying on his chest in the verandah, raised on his elbows, and intently reading a book, clothed only in a pair of spectacles P" But it will be necessary to postpone to a future opportunity our ex- amination of Miss Bird's further adventures.