Japanese Hotels 



the smiling, short-legged, placid god of trade, sit- 

 ting high, as usual, on two bags of rice. Striking at 

 once a mutually satisfactory bargain, the two be- 

 came inseparable friends, twin gods of luck forever 

 after. 



All native hotels in Japan lack privacy and quiet, 

 matters about which the inhabitants seem not to care. 

 Indeed, any one may enter any room at any time, 

 for any purpose, or for none at all. Food, so far as I 

 am concerned, is scanty and not filling, though a 

 word from Abe always brought us eggs, chicken, or 

 fried fish once in a great while beefsteak or milk. 

 Meals are served to order on the floor, each course in 

 lacquered dishes placed on a charming little stand, 

 with always a large, box-like, covered bowl of boiled 

 rice to which one helps himself without stint. Besides 

 this, dinner usually consists of a vegetable soup, fish 

 raw or boiled, hot or cold, and various kinds of 

 pickled roots, especially lotus or lily. A delicate 

 brew of light green tea may be had at all hours. 

 Bread and butter, fortunately rare, were thoroughly 

 bad, the former sour, the latter rancid. But every- 

 thing is scrupulously clean excluding all shoes 

 from matting-covered floors helps, of course, to keep 

 it so and spontaneous friendliness makes the Friend- 

 foreigner feel measurably at home in spite of the Kness 

 alien tongue and the absence of beds, chairs, tables, 

 knives and forks. 



The ever ready bath, shared by all the guests, con- 

 sists of a large tub of exceedingly hot water; usually 

 also, a boy comes in to give each man a welcome rub- 

 down, though in the more old-fashioned houses that 

 service is modestly performed by women. One then 

 puts on a yukata (bath robe) which he wears till bed- 



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