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New York, June 18, '60.
 ...Last Monday the Japanese made their triumphal entry into New York.
According to the newspapers, such a spectacle will never again be presented to human eyes.
The reception of Queen Victoria in Paris and the coronation of Emperor Alexander in Moscow
were nothing compared to the American magnificence.
All the windows of houses on the parade route had been rented in advance
at exorbitant prices. All stores and public buildings were closed for this national
celebration. Even the Stock Exchange was to be idle. The city of New York, with its
pretensions of being a metropolis and its feeble claim of being the real capital of the
United States, wanted to distinguish itself.
First of all, a police order enjoined the public to behave decorously. At
Baltimore the poor Orientals had been robbed. At Philadelphia people shouted at them
contemptuously, calling them beggars, monkeys, etc., etc. These gentlemen don't know much
English, but they know enough to understand that they weren't being complimented.
Last Saturday cannon shots announced the landing of the representatives of
the Tycoon. To honor them, or rather to exhibit them to the public, they were taken on a
five-hour tour of the entire city. All the troops were out, showing again how the National
Guard looked before '48. There was one difference, however. Each regiment could choose its
own uniform. As a result, there was a Scotch regiment, a French regiment, a Prussian
regiment, and so on. The Scotchmen, the Frenchmen, and the Fifth, a native regiment, were
the only ones with any semblance of military bearing, but they never managed to keep ranks
despite several very comical attempts.
The procession went by before us in the following order: first came a
four-wheeled cabriolet that carried one of the police chiefs. He had a gold-knobbed cane,
and used this instrument to make the crowd move out of the way, and let the wheels of his
carriage roll over the feet of those who didn't get back swiftly enough. Then came a squad
of policemen on foot, and another squad of mounted police...who paid much more attention
to their animals than to the public. Then came the troops, who kept filing by for two
hours, with an occasional stop for rest. The people took advantage of this pause to sit
down on the sidewalks or to get a drink at a bar. The rich militiamen had a negro at their
side to hold their rifles during the moments of rest.
After a long wait, we finally got a glimpse of the principal actors in
this grotesque exhibition. The city had really done things in grand style. Each
distinguished Japanese had his own carriage. The three ambassadors were each accompanied
by a naval officer and rode in four-horse vehicles adorned with the Japanese colors. The
coachmen wore round hats, frock coats, waistcoats, trousers ad libitum; but to
compensate for this, they each wore a magnificent pair of dark canary yellow gloves. It
must be admitted that the carriages were a bit old and the coachmen's dress was not beyond
reproach.
After the three ambassadors came the box containing the treaty and two
high functionaries entrusted with its care; they were not supposed to let it out of their
sight for any reason whatsoever. In other cities less opulent than New York, a
sufficiently spacious vehicle could not be found to hold the precious box. An omnibus had
therefore been chosen, and the case and its guardians were perched on top.
 This time there had been constructed a special type of carriage, all
covered with colored paper and with Japanese-American streamers. If it had had a large
box, it would have made a very presentable traveling theater. A young Japanese boy whom
people here call Tommy was sitting triumphantly on the case and making faces at the men
who were throwing kisses to the ladies.
Then came the other foreigners of inferior rank, each accompanied by an
alderman or a common councilman. (I call them the "common men of the council").
These gentlemen looked a lot like the coachmen who drove their vehicles, the only
difference being that they had on their Sunday suits, magnificent grey hats, and the same
dark canary yellow gloves of which mention was made above. But inwardly they seemed
irritated and ill at ease, though their sufferings seemed compensated for by the effect
which they thought they were producing on the crowds round about them. The rest of the
militia brought up the rear of the procession.
The Japanese are very ugly---They are shriveled like baked apples and are
often heavily pock-marked. Their hair is shaved to a point from the forehead to the
crown...Their hands are white, small, and very aristocratic, and their fingernails would
make the prettiest Parisienne jealous.
They make enormous purchases here, but always buy objects of very little
value, for which they haggle excessively. Several shopkeepers offered them as presents the
articles which they admired most. They accepted without the slightest shame, taking
advantage of their privileged position as barbarians to ignore the laws of reciprocity.
they have no taste for the arts and prefer a child's toy or a clock worth fifteen francs
to a well-wrought piece of silverware...
Every day there are celebrations given in their honor. Monday there is the
great ball given by the city, and Tuesday Mrs. Belmont is receiving them...
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