The Log of the Empire State | Page 8

to
make a single thread of silk. We were told that these girls worked from
twelve to fourteen hours a day, for which they receive forty cents a day
and food, getting a bonus at the end of the year, which amounts to
approximately one months' salary. Sundays are not holidays in Japan,
but workers have two days off a month.
We saw the whole process, from the sorting of the yellow and white
cocoons to the huge bolts ready for the market, while one of our
smiling hosts significantly remarked, "The yellow and white blend very
nicely together."
We were interested in learning that the principal owner of this huge
plant has adopted his wife's family name in order to follow the custom
of not allowing a family name to die out, in case there are no sons and
none have been adopted.
As over one-third of Japan's trade is with the United States, and a large
portion of that is in silk, our clever hosts had printed on the cover of the
booklet presented to us, "Silk is the shining cord that binds United
States and Japan."
The San Francisco Chamber of Commerce representatives had been
given the year book of Japan, all sorts of pamphlets containing figures
and facts concerning various enterprises, and so a day at Nikko, away
from statistics, was most welcome.
Nikko's sacred grove of Cryptomerie trees said to be over three
hundred years old, never looked more impressive than in the first rain
we had had while in Japan. One of the party who had traveled
extensively in the Orient previously, advised us to forget our trade
commercial mission long enough to see Nikko and then we could
afford to overlook all the other temples. Certainly nature and man's art
achieved a double triumph here, and this advice must have piqued the
curiosity of most of the stolid businessmen of the party; for yellow
strips of rubber and paper umbrellas were rented, and in spite of the
downpour, the great stairs were mounted. Even comfy shoes were
parted with in order to tread upon the cold marble floors of the ancient
temples. We now know, shoes have to be checked with umbrellas at the

outer doors in Japan.
We were not the only ones seeing Nikko at eight A. M. in the storm.
Besides the groups of soldiers and the crowds of pilgrims from all over
Japan, there was the ceaseless click-click of the wooden shoes of
thousands of children on the stone steps.
When we left the cozy dining-room of the hotel with its charming
outlook upon a mossy bank, where quaint shrubs were flourishing, we
felt quite proud of ourselves for braving the weather, until we asked our
guide why so many children were there that day. He said, "You see, it
is such a fine day for an excursion, not too hot or cold, no one notices
the rain."
On the way to the train we saw a queer old pawn shop, filled with
wonderful antiques. Some of the party claim that the shop was bought
out, so some of our San Francisco relatives will get an inkling from this
where Santa Claus may have gotten some of their Christmas presents.
Most of us did not mind being scolded for over-paying our sweating
rick-shaw coolies, but we all felt rather uncomfortable when we were
told that we should never have paid the first price asked in any of the
shops, and that our prize purchases could probably have been bought
for half the price by a clever bargainer.
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In a corner of the car, that was taking the San Francisco Chamber of
Commerce party to Kyoto, the heart of Japan, sat a little Japanese girl
in true Buddha style with her little toes crossed, filling her pipe from
her purse and taking the usual three puffs (that is about all these pipes
hold). She looked about fifteen, but must have been nineteen, because,
in Japan no one is allowed to smoke until that age has been attained,
and no native would think of breaking a rule.
We arrived in time for the Jidai Festival, which is held only once a year.
We saw a procession showing all the phantastic costumes worn by the
old-time tribal warriors, and it proved so interesting that we decided not
to mourn the fact that the cherry blossom celebration was out of season.
We felt much better, too, when we were reminded that all the pilgrims,
coming to feast their eyes, never get a taste of the luscious fruit, the
Japanese cherries being uneatable.
We were told that all prices were raised by the storekeepers when any
convention arrived in town. Some of us successfully resisted

purchasing cloissone, and satsuma ware, although we saw it being