ulation
upon his _soroban_, the transaction has been entered in the books of the
firm, and a long bill has been written and stamped, and handed to her
with the bundle. During her stay in the store, the foreign customer,
making her first visit to the place, is frequently startled by loud
shouts from the whole staff of clerks and small boys,--outcries so
sudden, so simultaneous, and so stentorian, that she cannot rid herself
of the idea that something terrible is happening every time that they
occur. She soon learns, however, that these manifestations of energy are
but the way in which the Japanese merchant speeds the departing
purchaser, and that the apparently inarticulate shouts are but the
formal phrase, "Thanks for your continued favors," which is repeated in
a loud tone by every employee in the store whenever a customer departs.
When she herself is at last ready to leave, a chorus of yells arises,
this time for her benefit; and as she skips into the _jinrikisha_ and is
whirled away, she hears continued the busy hum of voices, the clattering
of _sorobans_, the thumping of the bare feet of the heavily laden boys,
and the loud shouts of thanks with which departing guests are honored.

There is less pomp and circumstance about the smaller stores, for all
the goods are within easy reach, and the shops for household utensils
and chinaware seem to have nearly the whole stock in trade piled up in
front, or even in the street itself. Many such little places are the
homes of the people who keep them. And at the back are rooms, which
serve for dwelling rooms, opening upon well-kept gardens. The whole work
of the store is often attended to by the proprietor, assisted by his
wife and family, and perhaps one or two apprentices. Each of the
workers, in turn, takes an occasional holiday, for there is no day in
the Japanese calendar when the shops are all closed; and even New Year's
Day, the great festival of the year, finds most of the stores open. Yet
the dwellers in these little homes, living almost in the street, and in
the midst of the bustle and crowd and dust of T[=o]ky[=o], have still
time to enjoy their holidays and their little gardens, and have more
pleasure and less hard work than those under similar circumstances in
our own country.

The stranger visiting any of the great Japanese cities is surprised by
the lack of large stores and manufactories, and often wonders where the
beautiful lacquer work and porcelains are mad