MOTLEY THRONG. 
271 
the genial time has arrived when, as our Interpreter 
Tatish would say, they ^‘talk nonsense and drink 
saki.” At such periods, a motley throng is seen. 
I may notice some of the natives that came under 
my own observation, trooping along the narrow 
side paths. 
First, there was a party of three who met in the 
middle of the road, and their three broad circular 
hats, seen from a distance, appeared to take the 
form of a gigantic shamrock, as they bowed their 
heads together. Next, a tipsy samourai, or govern- 
ment official, swaggered past me, with the straight 
hilts of his swords projecting half-a-foot in front of 
his protuberant abdomen. He was followed by a 
timid mother leading a little child, their gentle 
aspect forming quite a contrast to the braggadocio 
air of the drunken yakonin. A row of half-naked 
coolies trotted rapidly along in single file, bending 
under hea’cy baskets, w^hich were borne at the ends 
of the bamboos across their shoulders. In the middle 
of the street, a lady in a norimon was carried at a 
swinging even pace by two stalwart bearers. Three 
