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prietor's hand. The show was "run" by a family who divided the labour, one taking money at the gate, another stirring up the monkey, a third making the parrot talk, and others showing round generally the constant stream of visitors.

Kioto is full of shops for the sale of lacquerwork, china, and bronzes. These are worth visiting; but I like better to stroll through the shops of the secondhand dealers, where all kinds of miscellaneous articles are stored, and now and then something worth picking up is discovered. The rain which came down in torrents yesterday has passed off, and the many colours which fill the streets are glowing in the summer sun. The storm passed away last night with a sunset of singular beauty; scarcely any crimson in the sky, only the west suffused with rich golden light.

The morning view from the Yaami Hotel is very beautiful. The hotel stands well up on a hill embowered in trees. In the valley beneath, almost hidden under a veil of white mist, lies the town. Beyond it is a thicker cloud of mist through which rise the tops of hills, just beginning to glow in the new-born sunlight. Whilst the mist still lies closely over the town, hiding all trace of human habitation, it seems as if we had gone back to

primæval times, when water filled the valley and the silent hills looked down upon the solitary lake.

The Mikado's palace, one of the principal attractions for the foreigner in Kioto, is now closed to the public, and, according to the present intentions of the authorities, will not be reopened. We were favoured by a special dispensation, and had full opportunity of wandering through the palace. The residence stands within an area of twenty-six acres, intruders being kept off by a thick roofed wall of earth and plaster. There are six massive gates, against which a mob unprovided with artillery might thunder in vain. Inside is a vast gravelled area, its bareness broken here and there by a few trees. Standing within the enclosure we could see nothing of the town, the horizon above the height of the wall being broken only by the green hills that girdle it. A European gardener would make a paradise of the place, with springy turf, fountains, and flower-beds. But Japanese gardening runs largely to gravel, and where we have green refreshing lawns Japan has barren stretches of gravel or soil beaten hard.

On approaching the first room of the palace we were required to take off our boots, a ceremony preliminary to entering any building,

from a tea-house to a temple. Sometimes, in respect of the temples, the game has turned out to be not worth the slipper. There was quite a posse of attendants detached to accompany us through the palace, where one intelligent man would have done equally well. They were attired in ordinary Japanese dress, though I dare say on festive occasions they proudly produce a rumpled suit of black broadcloth and a pair of white cotton gloves, such as their colleagues wore at the review on the Mikado's birthday, and such as undertakers wear in England.

I do not know why they should have been present in such numbers, but it was evidently not with the intention of making themselves useful. The Governor of Kioto had politely sent one of his secretaries to accompany us through the palace. This gentleman, with the excessive courtesy of the Japanese, would not allow us to carry our own boots. In such case it seemed not improbable that some of the able-bodied servants who followed us about might carry a pair. But that was not an idea that occurred to them, and pleasurable contemplation of the works of art in the palace was disturbed by repeatedly coming upon the governor's secretary taking short cuts with four pairs of boots under his arm.

We entered by a suite of apartments in which the daimios seeking audience of the Mikado were wont to assemble. There is a series of apartments known as the chrysanthemum-room, the stork-room, and the tigerroom, in reference to the subjects treated on the panels of the sliding walls. Unlike the residences of some sovereigns which the public are privileged to gaze upon, here are no mighty four-post bedsteads, no full-bottomed chairs, no tapestry, no carpets nor hangings, no portraits of ancestors; nothing but the bare room, with its thickly matted floor, its artistically decorated walls, and its ceiling always of beautiful wood. The absence of paint in their dwelling-houses compels the Japanese to seek colour and variety in the grain of various woods, and within their own country they find a rich field.

The throne-room, reached from the waiting-rooms by a corridor, is a long bare apartment with a canopied chair set near the centre. The chair is lacquered and richly inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The canopy consists of white silk trimmed with deep border of reddish brown. At first sight it looks like chintz. As the attendants entered, they all bowed low to the empty throne, repeating the obeisance whenever they passed or approached

it. In this room the new Mikado is solemnly enthroned, and here, through successive New Year's days, a long line of Mikados, now sleeping in the dust, have given audience to peers of the realm. It is not actually the same room, since the palace, as already mentioned, has more than once been destroyed by fire. But it is built up again as nearly as possible a copy of the old one, with the same provision for ceremonial. Immediately facing the throne is a courtyard, access to which is gained by eighteen steps. These correspond with the grades into which the imperial officials are divided. Those who have not reached the dignity of being allowed to stand on the lowest step are known as fi-ge, or "down on the earth.”

A wall at the back of the throne is divided into panels, each containing four portraits of Chinese sages. Above these hang two excellent oil portraits of the Mikado and the empress. It must not be supposed that either sacred personage went through the process of "sitting" for the vulgar artist. But even a Mikado may, without suffering in his dignity, hold communication with the sun. This conceded, the illustrious pair were photographed, and from the photograph an able artist in Milan evolved the oil paintings.

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