Infected with the delightful fever for blossom-dreaming, I
drifted aimlessly along with the crowds, drifting only too rapidly into
their own restful atmosphere, and accustoming myself to the delicious
theory that life is long with plenty of time for everything. And as I
sat in the sun among these light-hearted people, watching mountains of
pink blossom under a clear blue sky, it did seem ridiculous to think of
work and worry.

Those first few weeks in Japan come back to me as something to be
remembered. To my untravelled mind everything seemed so novel, so
quaint, so unexpected. Things were large when I expected them to be
small, and _vice versa_; the houses were made of paper; the women were
anxious to make themselves look old. I was fascinated by the pyramids of
children gazing in at sweet-stuff shops with their brown, golden,
serious faces contrasting so oddly with their gaily-coloured dresses
painted to look like butterflies. Every child I saw I felt that I must
either pat or give it something. I was surprised to see fowls with tails
so long that they had to be wound up into brown-paper parcels; the dogs
that mewed like cats; miniature trees hundreds of years old. I was
surprised when I dined out to find the room decorated with beautiful
ladies in lieu of flowers, a delightful substitute. To be taken to the
basement and handed a net with which I was to catch my own carp was also
rather a surprise; but when I was expected to eat it as it lay quivering
on my plate, I was more than surprised--I was roused. Material for
pictures surrounded me at every step. I wanted to make pictures of every
pole and signboard that I came across; and the result of this glut of
subjects was that I never painted a stroke. Night in Japan fascinated me
almost more than anything--the festoons of lanterns crossing from one
street to another, yellow-toned with black and vermilion lettering; the
gaily-dressed little people passing by on their wooden clogs or in
rickshas with swinging paper lanterns drawn by bronze-faced coolies.

I shall never forget my first rainy day in Japan. I went out in the wet
and stood there, hatless but perfectly happy, watching the innocent
shops light up one by one, and the forest of yellow oil-paper umbrellas
with the light shining through looking like circles of gold, ever moving
and changing in the purple tones of the street.

One of the first things I did on arriving in Japan was to hire a
servant, and this li