done, and I echoed it looked well done. Then he started lecturing about
Kazan, that there are two Kazans, one is Kazan something and the other
is Kazan anything, and that this picture was the work of that Kazan
something. After this nonsensical lecture, he insisted that he would
make it fifteen yen for me to buy it. I declined the offer saying that I
was shy of the money.

[Footnote 4: Artists have several seals of stone with which to stamp on
the picture they draw as a guarantee of their personal work or for
identification. The shape and kind of seals are quite a hobby among
artists, and sales or exchange are of common occurrence.]

"You can pay any time." He was insistent. I settled him by telling him
of my having no intention of purchasing it even if I had the necessary
money. Again next time, he yanked in a big writing stone slab about the
size of a ridge-tile.

"This is a tankei,"[5] he said. As he "tankeied" two or three times, I
asked for fun what was a tankei. Right away he commenced lecturing on
the subject. "There are the upper, the middle and the lower stratum in
tankei," he said. "Most of tankei slabs to-day are made from the upper
stratum," he continued, "but this one is surely from the middle
stratum. Look at this 'gan.'[6] 'Tis certainly rare to have three
'gans' like this. The ink-cake grates smoothly on it. Try it,
sir,"--and he pushed it towards me. I asked him how much, and he
answered that on account of its owner having brought it from China and
wishing to sell if as soon as possible, he would make it very cheap,
that I could have it for thirty yen. I was sure he was a fool. I seemed
to be able to get through the school somehow, but I would soon give out
if this "curio siege" kept on long.