38
unique dress. It may be said that he is “scantily dressed but decently painted.” The custom is said to have originated with the fishermen, who being much employed in the water, imagined that in this way they could frighten away sharks. As, however, this beautifying struck the fancy of the bettos, it was next adopted by them, from motives of vanity. These bettos always run alongside of horsemen and in front of carriages when out for a drive or on a journey. They have wonderful power of endurance, and will keep up with a fast trotting horse without apparent fatigue.
Walking down the nicely swept street, past the custom house, we come to a large compound where the British flag is flying. This is their Consulate, and a high stone wall encloses several acres. A red-coated soldier stands in the doorway of a large building containing the dwelling and offices of the Consul. A friend points out to me a large tree inside the wall, called “the treaty oak.” Here the treaty with Commodore Perry was signed in 1854. As an American, I am ashamed to say that this piece of land, which is the most desirable in Yokohama, after being assigned for our Consulate, was sold for seven thousand dollars to the English and the money put in the Consul’s pocket. The American Consulate was pushed back on to a small piece of land in the rear, and is not even the property of the United States.
A short distance further and we come to a broad street which separates the foreign from the native town, Here is a group of men and women of the laboring class. Their dress is very much alike in cut, as well as color, which is generally sombre. The broad sleeves of their outer garments, which are sewed up half way, serve as pockets. They all wear straw sandals on their feet, but no covering for their heads. Their hair is universally black, the heads of the men being partially shaved, and the hair drawn up and tied in a little cue on the top. The women wear their hair most elaborately dressed in waves and bands, with bright-colored skewers for hair pins. More than half the women in the street have babies in their arms, or slung at their backs, whose heads, shaved in fantastic patterns, look very comical peeping over their mother’s shoulders. The race is undoubtedly prolific, and Japan must be a paradise of babies. Here we meet a woman of the better class—perhaps some shopkeeper’s wife. That
