Can Anything Be More Grotesque And Barbarous Than Our
"Florists' Bouquets," A Series Of Concentric Rings Of Flowers Of
Divers Colours, Bordered By Maidenhair And A Piece Of Stiff Lace
Paper, In Which Stems, Leaves, And Even Petals Are Brutally
Crushed, And The Grace And Individuality Of Each Flower
Systematically Destroyed?
Kanaya is the chief man in this village, besides being the leader
of the dissonant squeaks and discords which represent music at the
Shinto festivals, and in some mysterious back region he compounds
and sells drugs.
Since I have been here the beautification of his
garden has been his chief object, and he has made a very
respectable waterfall, a rushing stream, a small lake, a rustic
bamboo bridge, and several grass banks, and has transplanted
several large trees. He kindly goes out with me a good deal, and,
as he is very intelligent, and Ito is proving an excellent, and, I
think, a faithful interpreter, I find it very pleasant to be here.
They rise at daylight, fold up the wadded quilts or futons on and
under which they have slept, and put them and the wooden pillows,
much like stereoscopes in shape, with little rolls of paper or
wadding on the top, into a press with a sliding door, sweep the
mats carefully, dust all the woodwork and the verandahs, open the
amado - wooden shutters which, by sliding in a groove along the edge
of the verandah, box in the whole house at night, and retire into
an ornamental projection in the day - and throw the paper windows
back.
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