Strolling about to while away a rainy forenoon I pass big school-houses
full of children reciting aloud. Their wooden clogs and paper umbrellas
are stowed away in racks, provided for the purpose, at the door. The
cheerfulness with which they shout out their exercises proves plainly
enough that they are only keeping "make-believe" school. Female vegetable
and fruit venders, neat and comely as Normandy dairy-maids, are walking
about chatting and smiling and bowing, "playing at selling vegetables."
While I pause a moment to inspect the stock of a curio-dealer, the
proprietor, seated over a brazier of coals, smoking, bows politely and
points, with a chuckle of amusement, at the fierce-looking effigy of a
daimio in armor. There is not the slightest hint of a mercenary thought
about his actions; plainly enough, he hasn't the remotest wish to sell me
anything--he merely wants to call my attention to the grotesqueness of
this particular figure. He is only playing curio-dealer; he doesn't try
to sell anything, but would do so out of the abundance of his good-nature
if requested to, no doubt. A pair of little old-fashioned fire-engines
repose carelessly against the side of a municipal building. They have
grown tired of playing at extinguishing fires and have thrown aside their
toys.
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