By Prince William of Sweden

Translated from Svenska Dagbladet, Stockholm

A

The ceiling is sky high, the floor space generous. Soda fountains, book counters, and cigar stands along the walls, where one can get nearly everything which one might need for a journey. Newspapers, books, cigarettes, candy, toilet articles, traveling bags, and much more. Along one side are the ticket windows in long rows, and adjoining them, the Pullman stalls. For Pullman is a separate company which has nothing in common with the railroad except that the coaches are run on the same tracks. Therefore you cannot buy a ticket and sleeping berth at the same window, but must go to two different places. How this fits in with the American idea of practicality is not easy to say; but so it is.

A continuous stream of people moves through the hall, no one dallies; a man arrives at the last minute, snatches a newspaper in passing, harries the porters, and hastens toward one of the many train entrances. Hours of departure are inscribed in letters of fire, names of cities one has never heard of before are lighted and put out. This huge station somewhat resembles the ventricle of a human heart, sending out blood - travelers - to different parts of its widespread

arterial system that they may go forth on steel rails toward their destination. New York, San Francisco, St. Louis, Minneapolis, Duluth wherever one wishes, one can reach in this far-flung land, which requires four days and nights to traverse. It is only a case of stepping aboard!

Heavy rubber soles smack across the cement floor, ulsters glisten from the mists outside, large bags bulge so that they barely close after the last, frantic packing, cigars gleam in clean-cut faces, whose peaceful and determined expression never changes, no matter how fast the pace. Light feet trip in chevreau and salmon-colored stockings, reflected light plays on Canadian and Alaskan furs, the bell-shaped hat is drawn down over the eyes so that you see only a nose tip and a pair of terrifying goggles. It almost gives the impression of domino and

young lady of athletic type, with the skirt ending above the knee, pullovers, and a vivid cap on shingled hair. Laughter resounds merrily. Here are some in holiday mood on a little excusion away from college; there a group is going west

ERE it is darker, sootier, colder. In the heart of the great city, the trains are run by electricity, but it is black and smoky below none the less. A roaring and a hissing. Sparks fly. Strangely, one rarely hears whistles; instead, there are pealing bells on the

to live an outdoor life among the sagebrush or under the sighing pines.

Pushing and jostling, crowding and crushing, thronging and shoving. The heavy bags strike against each other; ulsters and furs that gleamed brightly with rain drops a moment ago now are pressed down by the crowds, and droop, and look shabby; toes are trampled. and look shabby; toes are trampled. But what of that? The good humor is unfailing, as always with Americans, who take all situations jestingly and try to turn everything to the best. Tickets, please! The tickets are punched, and then the traveling stream pours down a steep stairway which seems to lead to the underworld.

engines, which are started automatically as soon as the trains pull into the station. The occasional whistle resembles that of fog horns on the high seas, or danger signals which signify that fire has broken out somewhere. Ceaseless the tolling dull, melancholy, enervating. On the platform stands the colored Pullman porter, who receives the passengers with a friendly grin. Watch your step, sir,' he says; 'Watch your step!'

For a misstep may mean that the company finds itself with a lawsuit on its hands because of a broken leg or an injured nose. In this country no one hesitates to sue a railway company for damages; sometimes one is successful, sometimes not; but there are always plenty of pettifoggers who will make an attempt and win a neat little sum, if they win.

A step up, a turn of the hand, and you are in the car, the baggage safely in place. The first sight to meet the eye is a notice at the entrance whereby travelers are warned to be quiet so that those who have already retired may not be disturbed. It seems fairly meaningless as one listens to the tolling outside, enough to wake the damned on the day of judgment! Pushing on, you pass down a narrow aisle and are shown a berth behind the green curtain. The linen is clean, the blanket is all that one can desire; the dusty plush must be overlooked in view of the intensive traffic. But the Pullman principle itself, with its eighteen to twenty persons in the same room, can it be right? After one has breathed the air in such a night asylum, the answer in the morning is an unhesitating 'No!' The odors from twenty persons, packed in, anchovy fashion, saturated with perfume, perspiration, shoe blacking, and wet wraps, cannot possibly be pleasing, even for the hardened.

To be sure, the newer type of sleeping coach on the main lines is constructed on healthier principles. The type somewhat resembles those in Europe, where two persons occupy a compartment. This results in actual comfort, luxury, and hygienic conditions. It is true, to be sure, that each of the old style Pullmans has private compartments at the ends of the coach, right above the wheels; but the mass of the traveling population is naturally directed to the communal bedroom. It is a wonder that the public, in other respects so spoiled regarding all that concerns the general health and practical equipment, does not protest against such conditions. But the Pullman seems to have penetrated into the very blood of Americans, one never hears any complaints. Quite the contrary; many consider the system superior to that of Europe. The foreigner may curse as much as he will, but if he is to travel he must be content to travel like all the others.

IRST let us give warning that one

FIR

must be short of stature; the bed is wide and comfortable, but short. The ceiling is low, whether one lies in the lower or the upper berth. Furthermore, it is an advantage to have some skill in acrobatics; the mortal clay must be supple so that it permits one to bend double and to perform other equilibrating master strokes; for it is a master stroke indeed to be able to undress and to dress sitting in the bed with negligible elbow room upward, downward, sideways. I know a man who failed completely when he attempted to pull off his trousers while sitting in the middle of the floor in a large room, where he had as much space as he wished. He pulled and tugged; he turned blue in the face; for all his efforts, the garment did not budge an inch; and at that he was only mildly intoxicated. How then will it go when one is dead sober in a Pullman berth?

The first time, I actually needed a quarter of an hour for solving the problem. The best way is to lie flat on one's back and make a series of wormlike movements, meanwhile squirming from right to left. There is no use in holding your breath; more time is needed than

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into the first wash-basin available. On either side splutter two strange, wildly dressed individuals who are attempting cleanliness. But, apart from the crowding, washing conditions are decidedly better than in Europe; hot and cold water, good soap, and towels are plentiful.

It does not take long to start conversation; you talk to strange gentlemen in striped pajamas, who, between clearings of the throats and latherings, ask how you like the country, which safety razor you use, and whether Stockholm lies in Scandinavia. The American has an unquenchable good humor in the morning, which finds expression in a genial talkativeness and a desire to know everything between heaven and earth. If you belong to that category of mankind which prefers not to talk before breakfast, this then will have its disadvantages; if, too, you suddenly discover that you must go back to fetch a forgotten toothbrush or comb out of your bag, then you may not always be so ready to answer as your neighbors are to question. However, they will not get out of sorts because of this. They merely shrug their shoulders, chuckle, and look supercilious. In America you must live life with a smile even before your toothbrush has had time to reach your mouth.

But, after many sorrows and tribulations, when you are finally ready, and reward comes in the form of an excellent breakfast in the dining car. The food, though lacking in spices, is well prepared; the service irreproachable. Each one writes his order on a slip of paper, hands this to the head waiter, or to any one of the colored personnel, and then, in a very short time, the order is on the table. The kitchen department naturally has its own specialized slang. A pair of eggs on toast is known as ‘Adam and Eve on a raft'; the much-loved ham and eggs has been shortened to 'hamán,' with accent on the last syllable. If you desire corned beef hash with a poached egg on top of it, then you will find that this has been christened 'clear up in the kitchen and put a rose on it,' which, in Swedish, means nothing more nor less than just that.

to temperature changes and have a physique into which rheumatism has never sunk its talons. You lie along the side of the car, which is totally uninsulated; in the winter the steel gives out a moist chill, while the part of the berth nearest the aisle gradually becomes broiling hot from the heating apparatus below. Then you must decide whether you prefer to chill your stomach, or get

much clothing is proper for dodging past toward the washroom. But the situation is not so exacting as one might think at first. In America, especially in a Pullman coach, no exaggerated modesty prevails. A mere dressing-gown will do, and no one pays the slightest attention to how shaggy or unshaven a person may how shaggy or unshaven a person may be. You simply find your way to the washroom, stand in line, and dig down

menus,

and other matter begin slowly but surely to filter in. The zeal for souvenirs and autographs has developed into a favorite sport. No pains are spared. No obtrusiveness is considered exaggerated when it is a matter of securing a desired. autograph. Someone like Dempsey or Lindbergh must surely need a rubber stamp! Whatever is nearest at hand is (Continued on Page 240)

I'

T SEEMED eminently fitting that my first glimpse of His Imperial Majesty, Hirohito-124th Emperor of Japan, should have been in the charming old capital city of Kyoto, Kyoto whose palaces and temples, mellowed by memories of many colorful courts, forms a crumbling bulwark against the encroachments of occidental civilization. It was a local holiday, a time of thanksgiving for a bountiful rice crop. After lunch, I dismissed my rickshaw and for more than an hour strolled with the crowds,

- merchants in sombre black kimonos and black bowlers, professors in serious looking mackintoshes, alert little schoolboys in gold braided blue caps, demure young women with high pomaded pompadours and freshly tied obis, and small children, gay as butterflies, everywhere small children, their vivid kimonos fluttering merrily against the dull clothes of their elders. They led me into Theatre Street, or rather that portion of Theatre Street reserved exclusively for moving picture houses.

By Philip Kerby

Written especially for THE LIVING AGE

the gods are we to have such an one. Three Banzais . . .

They were given with a will. In the breathless silence that followed, the clicking film seemed like the shuttle of fate weaving a new chapter in the national consciousness of Japan, for this

excitement was at its highest pitch, because this was the first time that the rank and file had ever been allowed to see photographs of their future sovereign, much less give vent audibly to their patriotic fervor.

The posters in front of every theatre were identical. I was curious why the same film should be playing at every house, and, from the crowds. outside waiting to get in, apparently playing to capacity. I paid a few sen and found myself in a building strongly reminiscent of the old Biograph days. The seats were narrow benches, and a packed house leaned forward tensely as a reel unfolded and an announcer at the side of the stage embroidered in a monotonous voice on the flowery sub-titles.

Three banzais! . . . three . . now . . applause . . . enough. In the next picture you see His Royal Highness Hirohito - beloved of the Gods-laying a wreath in the best foreign manner on the tomb of the Nameless Soldier in the French capital of Paris. Notice how straight he stands. Notice his regal demeanor. Notice the homage he receives from all. Favored indeed in the eyes of

was the first time since Jimmu Tenno ascended the throne in 660 B.C. that any member of the Imperial Family had traveled abroad.

As the shadow story of the young Crown Prince's exploits unfolded, showing him embarking on a battleship here, inspecting a guard of honor there, receiving deputations of scholars, merchants, and manufacturers somewhere else, I struggled to see him through the glamorous eyes of his subjects, eyes which even in the dim half light of the sordid little theatre shone with repressed emotion. Small wonder either that

EVEN times have the chrys

SEVE

anthemums budded and bloomed since Prince Hirohito returned to his island kingdom from his triumphal world tour. During the interim, the selfconscious youth who bobbed in and out of motor cars, ran up gang planks ahead of his official party, and reviewed honor guards so swiftly that few could keep up with him has attained man's estate and the poise that comes with it. By the passing of his father, Yoshihito, Heavenly Emperor of Great Righteousness, he has been called to rule an empire of many millions of souls, an empire which descended directly from Takamagahara, the Plain of High Heaven.

This year, as the yellow chrysanthemums drip their golden petals, the picturesque coronation ceremony for this one hundred and twenty-fourth Emperor of Japan, who traces his lineage through the first Emperor to Amaterasu no O mi Kami, Goddess of the Sun, will take place. From the ends of the earth, priceless gifts will be brought by the wise and

learned statesmen of the world to this youth whose distant kingdom during the past half century has emerged from an insignificant mediæval state to the gigantic importance of a world power, a nation whose ever-growing merchant fleet already spans the seven seas, whose army and navy rank among the finest in the world, and whose bureaucratic government is a marvel of efficiency.

And yet, despite these outward, visible signs of modern progress, the ceremonies attendant upon the coronation of Emperor Hirohito are pagan, and will be carried out almost exactly as

that of the first Emperor nearly three thousand years ago.

The term 'Coronation' is slightly confusing to Western minds, accustomed to thinking of European ceremonies, wherein a high prelate of the church actually crowns the new sovereign. In Japan this is impossible because the Emperor exercises the highest spiritual and temporal power. He assumes not a crown, but protection of the Imperial Treasure. Because the Emperor is head of the Shinto faith, the ceremonies are permeated with a deeply religious fervor that finds no counterpart in the occidental world, unless it be the consecration of a new Pope at the Vatican.

The present ceremonies will open in Tokio on November 6, with preparations for the state departure for Kyoto, the ancient capital of Nippon, the seat of art and learning, whose evergreen hills frame old palaces, shrines, and temples. Early in the morning, high officials of the government, including elder statesmen, will take their appointed places in the great ancestral hall located within the Imperial Palace grounds. In the presence of Shinto and Buddhist priests, the door of the inner sanctuary is opened, and, as ritualistic music is played by flute and strings, the Divine Treasure of the Imperial Ancestors is brought forth. These treasures are three, a Sword indicating command, the Jewel, significant of mercy, and the sacred Mirror, symbolizing the search for truth. During the ritual that follows, rice, saké, fish, and dried fruits are offered in sacrifice. The sacred Mirror, once the property of the Sun Goddess and believed by the devout to reflect her image, is placed in a magnificent palanquin for the journey to Kyoto and is borne on the shoulders of villagers clad in yellow kimonos. At a respectful interval, the Emperor and then the Empress follow in other palanquins. The Imperial route is closely guarded. No Japanese is allowed to remain in the upper floor of a house along the line of march (none may look down on the Emperor), and none may speak as the procession passes.

HIROHITO, EMPEROR OF JAPAN

to the spirit of Jimmu Tenno, the first Emperor. The shrine is a simple little rough hut built nearly 2,000 years ago and much too small to admit the many entitled to be present.

Amidst absolute silence, the Emperor and Empress enter. According to old custom, the Emperor retires, changes his robes, washes his hands, and then re

them,

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-the Mirror which says 'Know thyself,' the Sword which says 'Be Brave,' and the Jewel which says 'Enlighten thyself.' Alone in this inner chamber, the Emperor holds secret communion with his ancestors and invokes their guidance in the discharge of his grave responsibilities. The Empress then takes her place beside him. In

On the morning of November 10, the Coronation day, the Emperor Hirohito, clad in the simplest of robes, performs Shinto rites before the shrine dedicated

turns to the shrine. There he takes up the imperial sceptre. The Empress has gone through a similar ceremony and, upon her return, opens a white fan of cedar. At once the drums sound, and bronze gongs are beaten three times. To the accompaniment of the chanting of prayers by the priests and the soft throbbing cadences of ritualistic music, the doors of the inner sanctuary open. Slowly the Emperor moves forward and seats himself in the inner chamber. The sacred Mirror, the Sword, and the Jewel are placed on a table in front of him, and he humbles himself before

the expectant hush that follows, the Emperor rises and reads a Shinto prayer informing the spirits of departed Emperors that he has assumed the rank and title of Emperor. He claps his hands thrice, signifying that he has accepted the three Divine Treasures of Empire, after which both Emperor and Empress retire. The sanctuary doors close. The gongs are beaten and the morning ceremony has concluded.

The afternoon ceremony takes place in the impressive throne room of the Shishin-den Palace, whose walls are decorated with golden Phoenix and with mirrors. Under the southern eaves of the long room, a short curtain is hung. On its centre, is embroidered a red sun and, surrounding it, are the Good Omened clouds Of Five Colors, -blue, red, yellow, white and purple. In the centre of the hall, facing south, there is a black lacquer dais, elevated three steps up from the floor. Upon it rest two imperial chairs.

At the appointed hour, the Imperial Household enter and take up their positions according to rank around the three walls. The Emperor and Empress enter from the north. The Emperor is clad in magnificent yellow robes of state and wears an ancient lacquer wooden crown. He mounts the dais, while the courtiers make obei

sance. Then the Empress, in full court robes, enters and seats herself alongside him. The Emperor arises and, holding the sceptre upright against his breast, issues the Imperial edict proclaiming himself Emperor. At that, everyone kneels and kowtows as the Prime Minister steps forward and makes a brief speech of congratulation, following which he leads the Imperial Household in three 'Banzais!' This concludes the coronation.

Another one of the important coronation rites is the Daijogyu function, or, as it is more popularly known, the Yuki and Suki ceremonies. The earliest

name for Nippon was 'The Land of the Beautiful Rice Crop,' and since rice is still the mainstay of life in the islands, it is only fitting that the Emperor as the Son of Heaven offer thanksgiving for the rice at his coronation festival.

THE sacred rice fields are located near Son of

the town of Suki, outside Nagoyacity of the famous shrine and at Yuki, on Sanyuki Island in the Inland Sea, west of Kyoto. The exact fields are chosen by Shinto high priests in a very unusual manner. A fire is made of two rare Japanese woods, and over this fire is suspended a tortoise until the heat cracks his shell. In the direction that the shell cracks, the priests set forth to discover the most fertile land. It is immediately consecrated by Shinto rites, and a high bamboo fence is erected. Night and day sentries keep constant guard lest the land be polluted by transgressors. Only virgins and men of 'unblemished character' may plant and cultivate the rice. Each morning basins of salt water are purified with Shinto prayers, and, before entering the fields, the chosen workers must bathe in this water. Again, at sunset, the priests offer supplications for a bountiful harvest. The harvesting, the cleaning, the sorting and polishing of the rice from these sacred fields is done according to the most elaborate Shinto ritual. At the time of the coronation festival, the high priests themselves carry the finest grains to the Emperor who, at a secret dawn ceremony, offers first this purified rice to the Sun Goddess and then to the other gods of heaven and earth. The Emperor then partakes of the rice himself and subsequently offers it to the high priests and representatives of the laity.

Another important ceremony during the coronation month is the imperial visit to the grand shrine of Ise. This is the shrine of the Sun Goddess herself and is the Mecca of Japan. One of the first lessons the schoolboy is taught is the sacredness of this shrine, which the pious visit at least once in a lifetime. All important matters from the birth of an heir to the throne, to the successful conclusion of a war, or the signing of a treaty are publicly announced to the Goddess by a member of the Imperial Household. The Emperor goes at this time, personally to report to her his accession to the throne.

Other ceremonies of the coronation festivities include an imperial banquet and an imperial garden party to which the foreign diplomats may bring their wives.

OF

F HIROHITO, the man, little really is known. During his famous trip abroad, Admiral Togo, hero of the Russo-Japanese war and tutor to the Crown Prince, was a self-appointed bodyguard. Skilfully he fended off inquisitive journalists with charming anecdotes, none of which were relevant. At the Peer's School in Tokio, Hirohito proved himself a scholar of no mean ability, specializing in economics and law. He prefers the naval branch of the service, enjoys yachting and, is a fair swimmer. His only close friends are the two sons of Count Soyeshima, with whom he is said to have swum across the harbor at Kamakura, of course incognito.

It is reliably reported that His Majesty insists every day on being served a foreign breakfast and a foreign lunch, accompanied by the conventional European silverware. He speaks and

writes English, French, and German, in addition to Mandarin.

What bearing Emperor Hirohito's accession to the throne of Japan will have on world affairs is difficult to prophesy. He is both temporal and ecclesiastical head of a great nation and is vested with more prerogatives and powers than any other living sovereign. Yet so mighty has the bureaucracy surrounding him become more powerful far than the Shogunate, even in its greatest period that, were the Emperor to veto an important measure contrary to the wishes of the majority in power, his reign would be short, and this despite the fact that patriotic Japanese the world over ask nothing better than to lay down their life for their Emperor.

That there are plenty of problems, both at home and abroad, awaiting solution there is no denying. Among the most pressing are the menace to Japan's position in Manchuria, where her vested interests total some three billion yen, the breaking of the Chinese boycott and the settlement of the Shantung dispute, the development of enormous oil and mineral resources at at Sakhalin, the stabilization of the yen, and the reorganization of the capital structure of the raw silk industry.

How well Japan succeeds in expanding her place in the sun, time alone will tell, but, to every Japanese, the words of the textbook which declares that 'Japan must be made the mightiest nation in the world' is literal gospel. It is only natural to suppose that, to the extent that Emperor Hirohito's reign contributes toward the attainment of that goal, will his reign be deemed a success by posterity.