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The difference between the “Moosmie” and the Parisienne is, that what the latter attains by much study and practice, the former grows into naturally, from politeness inculcated from the earliest childhood.
Our ride back was by an entirely different route, and our “Betto” several times lost the way. The country people were very kind in directing us, and in several cases insisted upon going along quite a distance to show the road. Just before reaching town we met a funeral procession, headed by priests, and a band of musicians playing upon samisens, a sort of banjo, and small drums, or tom toms. White is the color of mourning in both Japan and Chinas. The coffins are large earthen jars, the Japanese being buried as he lives, with his heels tucked under him, in a sitting posture. This has the advantage of saving space in cemeteries, which is increased by burning the bodies of the poorer classes, and burying the ashes in still smaller jars. Their funerals are always at sunset, and they have a strange superstition against sleeping or being buried with their heads to the north. In sleeping rooms the points of the compass are frequently marked on the ceiling, that the sleeping mats may be placed in the right direction.
Soon after sunset we reached the hotel, our day’s experience having given me a better insight of the notions[errata 1], their manners and customs at home, away from the influence of foreigners, than I could ever have obtained in the city of Yokohama. It, also eft[errata 2], for several days, a painful impression, of my forty miles ride on a Japanese pony.
