in a gorgeous attire of old fashion. The fire burns in the hibachi, or fire-box, whispering a far-off forest story and the rustic humanity which is the best. What a country-like love in the charcoal fire! A while ago my servant boy returned home from the market where he bought the proper decoration for New Year's Day, made of straw, sea-weed, lobster (it is a Japanese allegory to have a humorous side, as, for instance, with this lobster, which represents agelessness in its very old shape of crooked back); I told him that a big pair of pine trees should be put up at the entrance of my house to create the house of evergreen Etemity. I already hear outside the merry music of lion-dancers, who make havoc among the children, whose suspicious eyes wish to know where Happy New Year ever comes. We will soon see what a great part a fan plays in our Japanese life, which will be caried by each person going round to scatter good wishes among the people known or unknown.
I will stay within the shut doors, or shojis, live in the Spring air of my creation after much cost, and wait for the outside Nature to burst
