man owns the cow, and he is glaring upon Kiyo-yo for thus polluting the water which his cow was drinking. He cannot contain his rage at the thought that his cow should, even after a waterfall, drink from a stream tainted with such a proposal. I do not know anything in Western literature or art that can go beyond this in expressing contempt.

The Japanese painters do not fall short of the artists in wood in reproducing water effects. One of these state apartments is known as the wave-room. The walls are covered with paintings of desperate seas, looking at first sight like agglomerations of logs. rounded at the head and bulging out in the middle. On the ceiling, in every panel, there is a freely drawn object, which I thought was meant to represent large shells of a species unknown in Great Britain. These are, however, waves, and it is the glory of the artist that, though there are over a hundred, each one is turned a different way—a terrible sight for Ito, who has not yet got over his experiences by sea. The temple itself, like all belonging to this particular sect, is very plain; this characteristic being so marked that it might almost be taken for a Shinto temple.

It was close upon four o'clock when we arrived, and at the stroke of the hour a priest

appeared and drew the gilt shutters across the altar. With the punctuality that marks the movements of the British workman at the dinner-hour, he shut out from further devotion for the day a young man who, conscious of being late, had been vigorously praying. There were three shrines, and as one was closed by the business-like priest, the young man hopped off to the other. When the last panel of the last shrine was closed, he skipped across the matted floor to the open door, where he had left his clogs. We passed on to the Amida Do, and there, before the yet open shrine, knelt the industrious young man.

Close by this temple is a pavilion, named, in the Japanese language, after the flying clouds. This was to me one of the most interesting buildings in Kioto, for here, more than two hundred years ago, lived in the flesh Hideyoshi, an able and valiant Japanese, who left his mark deeply cut in the history of his country. Apart from this personal connection, the building is attractive by reason of its age. In a city periodically burned, this narrow, lofty building has stood unharmed. It is set in an old-fashioned garden, dark with the shadow of ancient trees, and crowded with conifers. There is a pool, in which grow gold fish of prodigious size. They seem as if they had

been born in Hideyoshi's time, and had been slowly growing ever since.

The place is in the custody of an old gentleman, the nimblest for his years I ever looked upon. He was dressed in an old brown kimono, shaped after the fashion of a monk's gown. He wore no hat, had not shaved for many days, and was in a state of spasmodic excitement at sight of three Europeans, who would probably tip him before they left. We were in constant danger of losing him, as he generally ran ahead through the winding walks, returning to find us standing belated, discussing by which turn he had disappeared. He was into the house like a shot, and before we had reached the door he had opened the side of a room, and was loudly clapping his hands over the pool beneath. This looked like active lunacy; but he was only calling the fish, who came up under the window in shoals.

A steep staircase, with steps about twice the ordinary height, led up, room over room, to the topmost story, where was Hideyoshi's bedroom. It was of course bare, but there were some curious and interesting panels on the walls representing the old nobles in wonderful costumes, their skirts swelled out by exaggerated crinolines. One, with a curiously

flattened look, was squatted on the floor, under a weight of clothes that seemed to preclude the possibility of his ever getting up again. He was, Ito said, "something under Hideyoshi," and indeed he did look sat upon. Another panel held all that was left of a view of Fuji, faded now almost to nothing. Some Japanese humourist has called it "the Fuji of good manners," because in order to catch its dim outline you must bend low.

Hideyoshi's bath is on the ground-floor, just as he left it when he was steamed for the last time. It is a somewhat elaborate contrivance, with a furnace and pipes for conveying the steam into the box in which the great man used to sit and parboil himself. This humble domestic appanage seemed to bring one very near to old Japan. It was as if Hideyoshi had but just stepped out after taking his bath, as if the Shogun's empire, with its blindness, its ignorance, its feudalism, and its ferocity, were still a living thing, and the new Japan, with its railways, its telegraphs, its post-office, its system of national education, its liberal foreign policy, and its coming House of Commons, a disordered dream.

CHAPTER VI.

THE NEW EMPIRE IN THE WEST.

DURING my stay in Japan, I had the advantage of many interesting conversations, both with Mr. Inouyé and Mr. Ito, on the condition and prospects of this interesting country. In order to enable me to acquire full and accurate knowledge on the subject, the Foreign Minister laid all the departments of the State under contribution, and I received from each statements which contain the latest and most accurate statistics of the trade, commerce, and general condition of the empire. I have thrown them together in the present chapter.

Imperial Family and Government.-The dynasty of the empire of Japan was established by the Emperor Jimmu, in 660 B.C., and to the throne have succeeded, from generation to generation, the same dynasty without interruption up to the present time.

In the twelfth century the imperial power