I went afterwards to the central police station to inquire about an
inland route to Aomori, and received much courtesy, but no
information. The police everywhere are very gentle to the people,-
-a few quiet words or a wave of the hand are sufficient, when they
do not resist them. They belong to the samurai class, and,
doubtless, their naturally superior position weighs with the
heimin. Their faces and a certain hauteur of manner show the
indelible class distinction. The entire police force of Japan
numbers 23,300 educated men in the prime of life, and if 30 per
cent of them do wear spectacles, it does not detract from their
usefulness. 5600 of them are stationed at Yedo, as from thence
they can be easily sent wherever they are wanted, 1004 at Kiyoto,
and 815 at Osaka, and the remaining 10,000 are spread over the
country. The police force costs something over 400,000 pounds
annually, and certainly is very efficient in preserving good order.
The pay of ordinary constables ranges from 6 to 10 yen a month. An
enormous quantity of superfluous writing is done by all officialdom
in Japan, and one usually sees policemen writing. What comes of it
I don't know. They are mostly intelligent and gentlemanly-looking
young men, and foreigners in the interior are really much indebted
to them. If I am at any time in difficulties I apply to them, and,
though they are disposed to be somewhat de haut en bas, they are
sure to help one, except about routes, of which they always profess
ignorance.

On the whole, I like Kubota better than any other Japanese town,
perhaps because it is so completely Japanese and has no air of
having seen better days. I no longer care to meet Europeans--
indeed I should go far out of my way to avoid them. I have become
quite used to Japanese life, and think that I learn more about it