The car halts " few yards from the scene of the holocaust. As one alights, children offer flowers for sale, many of these human flowers. being now orphans, their parents having perished in the wide space of ground visible yonder. One buys all the flowers the childrem.can sell—they are only five sen for a well-arranged, plentiful bouquet—and off they go for more. Where the flowers come from in burnt Tokio, I couldn't tell. Along the sidewalk are ranged a number of booths where pictures of the Honjo horror and its aftermath, along with other pictures, are being sold.
There is no torii (Japanese emblem before temples) signifying that we are now on holy ground, and éf ever sand and gravel have a right to be thus called, this spot has. Instinctively, one takes off his hat and proceeds towards the altar. There is a crowd already there, and the people form themselves automatically into a queue, approach the altar reverently, and lay a floral tribute. By the time I got there these floral tributes were more than two feet high ranged all townd the spot where the ashes of the victims are preserved. A short, silent prayer is said for the repose of the spirits of the dead, and room is made for other crowds which keep coming in steady streams. Anti-calamity amulets are sold in the vicinity of the exit, and, after buying several of these, one passes into the street, thinking thoughts too deep for tears, The stupendous nature of this. terrible tragedy is such that, when a few more years have rolled, it will be admitted to be the greatest of its kind in the world. I narrate it here as related to me by a Japanese friend of mine who was one of the few hundred out of tens of thousands to escape out of this gaping mouth of hell.
Simultaneously with the unprecedented shocks that rocked the earth on that fair noon of September 1, fires sprang up in Honjo, Asakusa and the surrounding region—all these districts being the most congested in the capital. As the fires increased in intensity and shock continued to follow shock, people became panicky. Swift motor-cyclists belonging to the police after a hurried visit to other portions of the city confirmed the fears that the disaster was of an woprecedented and appalling nature. The Chief of Potice of Honjo advised the refugees to take refuge in the 2-acre plot of ground on which formerly stood the Army Clothing Factory. By about 2% o'clock in the afternoon, the place was chockful of refugees. It was the safest place in the region to go to, and the judgment of the Chief of Police cannot be questioned. When the tens of thousands here perished, the Chief of Police committed hara-kiri, slaying himself with his sword.
As the hours passed by, refugees continued to pour in torrents to what was regarded as the only place of safety in the neighbour-
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.