This chapter would be incomplete without a paragraph concerning Japanese shops, or retail stores, which are among the first curiosities to attract and rivet a foreigner’s attention. The building is, perhaps, a small, low, frame structure, crowded among its fellows on a narrow lane. The floor is raised a foot or so above the ground, and is covered, as usual, with thick matting. Spread out on the floor or on wooden tiers or on shelves are the goods for sale. The shopkeeper sits on his feet on the floor, and calmly smokes his pipelet, or fans himself, or in winter warms his hands over the _hibachi_ (fire-bowl). He greets you with a profound bow and most respectful words of welcome, but makes no attempt to effect a sale, or even to show an article unless you ask to see it. He is imperturbably indifferent whether or not you make a purchase; either way, it is all right. He will politely display anything you want to see; and, even if, after making him much trouble, you buy nothing or only an insignificant and cheap article, he sends you away with as profound a bow and as polite expressions as if you had bought out the shop. Whether you buy little or much or even nothing, you are always dismissed with “_Arigatō gozaimasu_” and “_Mata irasshai_,” which are very respectful phrases for “Thank you” and “Come again.” Having dropped into “a veritable shoppers’ paradise,” you will quickly “find yourself the prey of an acute case of shopping fever before you know it!” It is, indeed, true, to quote further from this same writer, that “to stroll down the Broadway [known as the Ginza] of Tokio of an evening is a liberal education in every-day art.”[28]