advantage her white-powdered neck, the prized point of beauty in a
Japanese maiden, and then asks the usual questions as to whence
I came, whither I am going, and to what country I belong. These,
according to the Japanese code of etiquette, are all polite questions;
and in return, violating no dictum which the purists of Kioto or Yeddo
have laid down, I inquire her age ("Your honorable years, how many?").
The answer, "_Ju-hachi_," makes known that she is eighteen years of
age. Chatting further, I learn what things there are to be seen in the
neighborhood, whether foreigners have been there before, the distance
to the next village, the history of the old temple near by, etc. All
this is told with many a laugh and a little pantomime--she naturally
committing the mistake of speaking louder and faster to the foreigner
who cannot fully understand her dialect or allusions--when a new
character appears upon the scene.

A very jolly, matronly-looking woman, evidently the landlady, pulls
aside one of the sliding paper doors, and bowing low on her hands and
knees, smiles cavernously with her jet-black teeth, which, like all
correct and cleanly women in Japan, she dyes on alternate days. She
asks concerning dinner, and whether it is the honorable wish of the
visitor to eat Japanese food. The answer being affirmative, both
matron and maiden disappear to prepare the meal, evidently thinking it
a fine joke. No such thing as a common dining-room exists in Japanese
hotels. Caste has hitherto been too strictly observed to allow of such
an idea. Every guest eats in his own room, sitting on his calves and
heels. The preparations are simple, though of course I speak now of
every-day life.

Miss Peach-blossom appears, bearing in her hand a table four inches
high, one foot square, and handsomely lacquered red and black. Behind