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bury, in Revolutionary times, was but child’s play compared with such an exploit as this.
From the summit of Atango we have a grand panoramic view of the city and bay. From the foot of the hill, for perhaps two miles down to the very water’s edge, the countless dwellings stretch away in monotonous straight lines of gray-tileed roofs, beyond which is the gradual curve of the bay, studded with the now dismantled forts upon which the Tycoon’s government spent millions, in the vain hope of preventing the Western barbarians from approaching the capital, and with warships and steamers of foreign build, but bearing the Japanese flag, side by side with heavy native junks and fishing craft. On our left the view is bounded by the castle, which stands in the midst of the palaces of the nobles, like a prince among his vassals, a splendid monument of feudality. On the north and east as far as the eye can reach are streets and houses, with here and there the heavy cornices of a temple surrounded by groves of fine old trees. At intervals on all sides are high, black, wooden watch towers, which are used during the fires, which occasionally consume a square mile or so of the town. Owing to the inflammable material of which the houses are built, fires are very frequent and destructive. Fire insurance offices are unknown, and it is said that every Japanese counts upon being burnt out once in seven or eight years, and such is their elasticity of temperament that almost before the embers are cool, they quietly, rapidly and good-humoredly set about rebuilding their homes. These fires and the frequency of earthquakes account for the fact that in the whole of Yeddo, giant city as it is, there are very few large or ancient buildings to be seen. The temples being located in large groves, and the residences of the Daimios being detached, escape these conflagrations. But the charm of the scene lies not in the architecture of the city, but in the gardens and trees; for here and there in the heart of the town are to be found spots which seem to be transsported from some fair country scene, where the dark pines and firs are relieved by the bright green of the bamboo, and the camelias and laurels are mixed with the tree-fern, the sagopalm and the fruitless plaintain.
Atango would not be in Japan if without its tea houses, and while we are admiring
