that hour of the day, so that we might go in without fear of disturbance.  It seems that in such places the tiers of boxes for the clothing on either side of the door, are reserved for men and women respectively.  Ignorant of this custom, we deposited our clothing in the boxes on the left hand, and as quickly as we could accommodate ourselves to the heat of the water, we got into the great tank.  We were scarcely in, when a company of six or eight men and women entered the bath house; they at once perceived our blunder, but without the slightest hesitation, the women as well as the men went over to the men’s side and proceeded to undress and get into the tank with us, betraying no consciousness that aught was amiss.  So far as I could see there was not the slightest self-consciousness in the entire proceeding.  In the tank, too, though it is customary for women to occupy the left side, on this occasion they mingled freely with the men.  I suppose it is impossible in England or America to conceive of such a state of unconsciousness.  Yet it seems to be universal in Japan.  It is doubtless explained by the custom, practiced from infancy, not only of public bathing, but also of living together so unreservedly.  The heat of the summer and the nature of Japanese clothing, so easily thrown off, has accustomed them to the greater or less exposure of the person.  All these customs have prevented the development of a sense of modesty corresponding to that which has developed in the West.  Whether this familiarity of the sexes is conducive to purity of life or not, is a totally different question, on which I do not here enter.

In this connection I can do no better than quote from a popular, and in many respects deservedly popular, writer on Japan.  Says Mr. Hearn, “There is little privacy of any sort in Japan.  Among the people, indeed, what we term privacy in the Occident does not exist.  There are only walls of paper dividing the lives of men; there are only sliding screens instead of doors; there are neither locks nor bolts to be used by day; and whenever the weather permits, the fronts and perhaps even the sides of the houses are literally removed, and its interior widely opened to the air, the light, and the public gaze.  Within a hotel or even a common dwelling house, nobody knocks before entering your room; there is nothing to knock at except a shoji or a fusuma, which cannot be knocked at without being broken.  And in this world of paper walls and sunshine, nobody is afraid or ashamed of fellow-man or fellow-woman.  Whatever is done is done after a fashion in public.  Your personal habits, your idiosyncrasies (if you have any), your foibles, your likes and dislikes, your loves and your hates must be known to everybody.  Neither vices nor virtues can be hidden; there is absolutely nowhere to hide them....  There has never been, for the common millions at least, even the idea of living unobserved.”  The Japanese language has no term for “privacy,” nor is it easy to convey the idea to one who does not know the English word.  They lack the term and the clear idea because they lack the practice.