--'Yes, our calendar at present is exactly the same as yours,' I answered. 'It used to be lunar, as is the Chinese, but it is now thirty-four years since we adopted the solar by a stroke of the pen, that is to say, by an edict of the Emperor. We thought in this world of cosmopolitanism that it was rather inconvenient for the different nations to have different calendars, and that it would be expedient to follow the example of the majority of the nations. We considered it a bold stroke of policy, but you see all such changes are made subjects of ridicule, and the Japanese are called mere imitators.' --'Oh no, you go too far,' said another. 'No one ridicules Japan for that kind of change. It was excellent.' --'And yet,' said I, 'all other changes are exactly the same in our eyes as that one.' --'People are now beginning to understand Japan,' said she. --'May be,' I said. 'I am very glad of it, but, you see, our calumniators even now make very unjust accusations against us, and still speak of us as monkeys. Since my arrival in Europe, not only have I noticed that these things have been written in newspapers, but I have myself received many letters of that kind. I cannot think what good they can do by sending me such letters and wasting stamps. I suppose they are but an infinitesimal part of the money spent for such purposes by our opponents. This very day, when I was coming out of the hotel, I received one of those letters: the postmark is Paris. I read it through on the way, and I have it still here. It is this: you may read it.' So saying, I handed the letter to the lady, and she read it out as follows: 'MON CHER SINGE JAUNE,--Vous singes jaunes, voulez avoir beaucoup de pièces jaunes--travaillez--vous les aurez; mais avec votre tuerie--vous n'arriverez pas à les avoir--je vous assure. Fichez le camp--allez habiter aux Philipines. L'Europe et l'Amérique sont fermées aux singes jaunes sauvages. Vous martirisez chez vous les femmes! Votre meilleur homme Yoma (_sic_)--en a tué plusieurs. Vous êtes singes jaunes très méprisables--oh, bientôt l'or aura raison de vos hordes ... Souvenez-vous de mes singes. Singes jaunes sauvages dégoutants. MISS NELLY. 'Qui ne vous aime pas: oh du tout....' Finishing the reading, the lady exclaimed, 'What a shame!' in which all those listening joined. Said I,--'The letter evidently refers to the question of indemnity. You see, it is written on a telegraph-form, and the article and the song, both equally disgusting, pasted purposely for me to read, are cuttings from Russophile papers: you can pretty well surmise from what source it came; the signature is also amusing!' --'Shame!' they all exclaimed once more, but we all soon burst into laughter. When the laughter, whereby the peace of my dreamland had been a trifle disturbed, subsided, a lady present said: