Among the flowers of spring it is to the cherry bloom that the Japanese pay most attention. Among the sombre old Cryp-tomerias and pines of Uyeno, its delicate white, or white gently tipped with pink, appears surpassing beautiful, especially on the drooping boughs. Mukojima, however, has the chief attractions. Here, along the east bank of the river Sumida, is an avenue, two miles in length, bordered with cherry trees. Early in April fleets of pleasure boats glide up the stream, filled with gaily dressed people of all classes. In the avenue it is difficult to make one's way, so dense is the throng. But at the side are little gardens, with tea houses where breathing space may be had, as well as refreshments, a specialty of the place and season being a drink flavored with cherry blossom. It is a merry sight, the endless vista of overarching boughs as white as if laden with snowflakes, each breath of wind scattering a shower of delicate petals; the cheerful crowd of holiday-makers moving quietly, or sitting in rest houses, with their tasteful attire and winning manners; the peals of laughter and fugitive strains of music; the tidy pavilioned pleasure boats moored to stakes which support the sedgy river bank; one or two sails of barges making their way down or up stream; a glimpse of the upper reaches of the river.

Cityward the pagoda and great roofs of Asakusa, and above the great city, with its grey roofs, sprinkling of white walls, and wooded bluffs. Have we reached the "land of perennial life" of which the poets of Japan have so often sung? It would seem almost so; the whole scene is so perfectly delightful, so suggestive of undisturbed peace and prosperity. - The Garden.