It was at Honkawa-Cho Station that a half-crippled old woman got on the tram. Every seat already occupied, she stood next to me. Everyone who was sitting, as I had expected, pretended as if he were sleeping.
I got used to witnessing such scenes, which I had met with several times since I came from Alamogordo, New Mexico. Thus I noticed that Japanese were less polite than I had expected before I came to Japan.

At that time, a sharp-looking teenager behind me stood up, and so offered a seat to the old woman. His courtesy I praised in my heart.
I was happy to meet the virtuous-natured young man which Japanese people ought to be like. It was, however, not long before I recognised that he turned out not to be Japanese.
Under his arm he held a book, whose title was written not in Japanese, but in Korean,