When O Kinu was handed the letter she laughed and said: 'Truly, old man, you appear to me very funny, bringing me letters. This is the second in four days, and never until four days ago have I had a letter addressed to me in my life. What is this one about, I wonder?'

Saying this, she tore it open and read, and then, turning to the servant, continued: 'It is difficult for me to understand. If you gave my message to your master correctly he could not fail to know that I could not marry him. His position in life is far too high. Is your master quite right in his head?'

'Yes: except for the love of you, my young master is quite right in his head; but since he has seen you he talks and thinks of nothing but you, until even I have got quite tired of it, and earnestly pray to Kwannon daily that the weather may get cool, so that we may return to our duties at Kamakura. For three full days have I had to sit in the inn listening to my young master's poems about your beauty and his love. And I had hoped that every day would find us fishing from a boat for the sweet aburamme fish, which are now fat and good, as every other sensible person is doing. Yes: my master's head was right enough; but you have unsettled it, it seems. Oh, do marry him, so that we shall all be happy and go out fishing every day and waste no more of this unusual holiday.'

'You are a selfish old man,' answered O Kinu. 'Would you that I married to satisfy your master's love and your desire for fishing? I have told you to tell your master that I will not marry him, because we could not, in our different ranks of life, become happy. Go and repeat that answer.'

The servant implored once more; but O Kinu remained firm, and finally he was obliged to deliver the unpleasant message to his master.

Poor Takadai! This time he was distressed, for the girl had even refused to meet him. What was he to do? He wrote one more imploring letter, and also spoke to O Kinu's father; but the father said, 'Sir, my daughter is all I have to love in the world: I cannot influence her in such a thing as her love. Moreover, all our diving-girls are strong in mind as well as in body, for constant danger strengthens their nerves: they are not like the weak farmers' girls, who can be influenced and even ordered to marry men they hate. Their minds are, oftener than not, stronger than those of us men. I always did what Kinu's mother told me I was to do, and could not influence Kinu in such a thing as her marriage. I might give you my advice, and should do so; but, sir, in this case I must agree with my daughter, that, great as the honour done to her, she would be unwise to marry one above her own station in life.'

Takadai's heart was broken. There was nothing more that he could say and nothing more that he could do. Bowing low, he left the fisherman and retired forthwith to his room in the inn, which he never left, much to the consternation of his servant.

Day by day he grew thinner, and as the day approached for his return from leave, Takadai was far more of an invalid than he had been on his arrival at Oiso. What was he to do? The sentiment of the old proverb that 'there are as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it' did not in any way appeal to him. He felt that life was no longer worth having. He resolved to end it in the sea, where his spirit might perhaps linger and catch sight occasionally of the beautiful diving-girl who had bewitched his heart.

Takadai that evening wrote a last note to Kinu, and as soon as the villagers of Oiso were asleep he arose and went to the cottage, slipping the note under the door. Then he went to the beach, and, after tying a large stone to a rope and to his neck, he got into a boat and rowed himself about a hundred yards from sh.o.r.e, where he took the stone in his arms and jumped overboard.

Next morning O Kinu was shocked to read in the note that Jiro Takadai was to kill himself for love of her. She rushed down to the beach, but could see only an empty fishing-boat some three or four hundred yards from sh.o.r.e, to which she swam. There she found Takadai's tobacco box and his juro (medicine box). O Kinu thought that Takadai must have thrown himself into the sea somewhere hereabouts: so she began to dive, and was not long before she found the body, which she brought to the surface, after some trouble on account of the weight of the stone which the arms rigidly grasped. O Kinu took the body back to sh.o.r.e, where she found Takadai's old servant wringing his hands in grief.

The body was taken back to Kamakura, where it was buried. O Kinu was sufficiently touched to vow that she would never marry any one. True, she had not loved Takadai; but he had loved, and had died for her. If she married, his spirit would not rest in peace.

No sooner had O Kinu mentally undertaken this generous course than a strange thing came to pa.s.s.

Sea-gulls, which were especially uncommon in Oiso Bay, began to swarm into it; they settled over the exact spot where Takadai had drowned himself. In stormy weather they hovered over it on the wing; but they never went away from the place. Fishermen thought it extraordinary; but Kinu knew well enough that the spirit of Takadai must have pa.s.sed into the gulls, and for it she prayed regularly at the temple, and out of her small savings built a little tomb sacred to the memory of Takadai Jiro.

By the time Kinu was twenty years of age her beauty was celebrated, and many were the offers she had in marriage; but she refused them all, and kept her vow of celibacy. During her entire life the sea-gulls were always on the spot where Takadai had been drowned. She died by drowning in a severe typhoon some nine years later than Takadai; and from that day the sea-gulls disappeared, showing that his spirit was now no longer in fear of O Kinu marrying.

1. Iganosuke Dives for the Pipe and Finds the Idol.

XXIV THEFT AND RECOVERY OF A GOLDEN KWANNON.

IN the period of Gen-roku, which lasted from 1688 to 1704, when the Shogun or military ruler Tsunayoshi's power was in full sway, he presented a solid gold figure of Kwannon, the G.o.ddess of Mercy, to each of the three leading families of the provinces of Kii, Mito, and Owari, and they were considered as of the highest and greatest value by each of these leading Lords or Daimios, who had them kept in their inner palaces, so that they were almost impossible to get at, and were considered at least absolutely safe from robbers; but even in spite of this the Lord of Kii took additional precautions by always having a man night and day to guard his idol.

At the same period lived a most redoubtable robber whose name was Yayegumo. He was more than an ordinary robber, and was what the people called a 'fuin-kiri,' which means 'seal breaker' or 'seal cutter'; a first-cla.s.s burglar, in fact, who never descended to robbing the poor, but only robbed the richest and most difficult palaces and castles that were to be got at, taking from them only the highest and most valuable treasures they possessed.

This bold robber broke into the Lord of Kii's Palace--no one knew how--took the idol of Kwannon, and left his name written on a piece of paper. The Lord of Kii, very angry, sent for the guard, whose name was Mumashima Iganosuke, and reprimanded him severely, asking him what excuse he had to make. 'None, my lord: tiredness overcame me and I slept. There is but one way in which I can show my regret, and that I will do by destroying myself.'

The Lord of Kii, who was a man of wisdom, answered that before he did this it would be more useful if Iganosuke would follow up the robber and try to recover the idol. Iganosuke, who had always been a faithful servant, readily consented, and, having obtained indefinite leave, went away. For fully four months he was quite unsuccessful, though he had travelled half over the country. At last he heard reports of robberies in Chugoku, and then later in Shikoku Province. Hurrying down from Izumo to Okayama, he there got on board a ship bound across the Inland Sea for Takamatsu, in Shikoku. The weather was fine and the sea smooth, and Iganosuke was in high spirits, for he had heard that one or two of the robberies had undoubtedly been done by Yayegumo, and he felt that at last he must be getting nearer the man he wished to catch--perhaps, even, he was on that very boat! Who could tell? Thinking of these possibilities, Iganosuke kept very much to himself, watching the people, whose spirits all seemed to be affected by the beautiful weather, for, though mostly strangers, they were all sociable.

Among them was a good-looking young samurai who had attracted Iganosuke by his refined appearance, as also by a beautiful gold pipe which he drew out from its case and smoked while chatting to his neighbour. By and by a samurai of some sixty years of age came up to the young man, and said: 'Sir, I have lost my pipe and tobacco-pouch somewhere on this ship. I am a confirmed smoker, and almost dying for a whiff of tobacco. Might I borrow yours for a moment or two?'

The young samurai handed both his pipe and his pouch to the old man with a bow, saying that this afforded him great pleasure.

The old samurai, after his three puffs of the pipe, was about to empty out the ash and refill it. To do so, without thinking what he was about, he knocked the pipe on the outside of the ship. To his horror the gankubi (the bowl) dropped off into the sea. The old man knew that the pipe was gold and of great value, and was utterly confused. He did not know what to say. His apologies were profuse; but they did not bring back the end of the pipe. The young samurai, of course, was much annoyed; but it would be no use getting angry. In any case that would have been an excessively vulgar proceeding, more especially with so old a man. He said: 'Ah! the pipe was given to me by the lord of my clan for meritorious service rendered in the big hunt last year, and truly I do not know how I shall be able to face the disgrace of incurring his anger.' He grew pale as he mused.

The old samurai felt more sorry than ever when he heard this, and said: 'There is only one way I see that you can face your lord, and that is by my death. I also was a samurai of some importance when younger, and know how to conduct myself. It is right that I should disembowel myself as an apology to you for my carelessness.' And, saying this, the old samurai drew his right arm and shoulder from under his kimono.

Surprised at the old man's high sense of honour, the young samurai seized the hand in which he held his sword and prevented him, saying: 'That will really do no good. It would not make it easier for me to explain to my lord. Your death can bring no apology to him. It was I to whom he gave the pipe, and it is I who have lost it by lending it to you. It is I, therefore, who should offer the apology to my lord by doing harakiri!' Then the young samurai prepared to kill himself.

Iganosuke, who had been watching the incident, stepped forward and said: 'Gentlemen, I also am a samurai, and I have heard what you say. Let me say that, though the pipe-end has fallen into the sea, it in no way follows that it is lost beyond recovery. Both of you appear to me to be unnecessarily hasty. I am a good diver and swimmer; our ship is becalmed; and the water hereabouts is not very deep. I am quite ready to try and help you to recover the pipe if you will allow me.'

Of course, both the other samurai were pleased at this idea, of which, being no swimmers themselves, they had never thought, And Iganosuke. lost no time in throwing off his kimono and diving into the sea, where he was thoroughly at home, having been in his younger days so expert a swimmer that he gave lessons to many of the samurai at Kii.

Down he went to the bottom, finding not much more than seven j.a.panese fathoms of five feet each. The bottom was composed almost entirely of stones and was very clear. Iganosuke had not moved many feet along before he saw the end of the gold pipe, and at the same time something else gleaming between the stones. Thrusting the pipe between his teeth, he seized the other object, and to his great astonishment found it to be no less a thing than the gold figure of Kwannon which had been stolen from the castle of the Lord of Kii.

Carefully returning to the surface, Iganosuke scrambled on board, and handed the pipe-end to the grateful young samurai, who, with the old one, bowed to the ground.

When Iganosuke had thrown on his clothes, he said: 'I am a retainer of the Lord of Kii, and I have come from our castle of Takegaki to hunt for the robber who stole the very figure of Kwannon which I have just by good fortune while looking for your pipe recovered. Is it not wonderful? Truly the old saying, "Nasakewa hito no tame naradzu"A 1 is quite true!'

Then the old man, in a wild state of delight, cried: 'Even more curious is this. My name is Matsure Fujiye of Takamatsu. Only a month ago the robber whom you name Yayegumo Fuin-kiri, the seal-breaker, came into the bedroom of my lord, and was about to steal great valuables, when I, who was on guard, tried to take him. Though an old man, I am a fencer; but he was too clever for me and escaped. I followed him down to the beach, but was not fast enough, and he got away. Since then I have always wondered what he had in his kimono pockets, for the bright rays of some gilded thing shot out of them. The robber had not got far from the sh.o.r.e before a great storm arose. He was wrecked and drowned. Both his body and the boat were recovered some days later, and I identified them; but there was nothing in his pocket. It is clear that when his boat upset the robber lost the Kwannon, which must have been what I saw shining out of his pocket.'

Truly this was a wonderful string of coincidences!

Iganosuke, who had no further cause to travel, returned to the Lord of Kii, and reported his adventures and good fortune. So much pleased was the Daimio, he gave Iganosuke a present.

The figure of the gold Kwannon was better guarded than ever before. Undoubtedly it had miraculous power, and it may still be among the treasures of Kii.

Footnotes.

148:1 Favour is not for other people.

29. Furuzuka Iga Cuts Off the Head of the Ex-Emperor Shutoku, Who is His Own Son.

XXV SAIGYO HOSHI'S ROCK.

SOME twelve miles south of Shodo shima (Shodo island) is the largish island of Nao or Naoshima, on the western side of the enchanting Inland Sea, which it has been my good fortune to cruise over at will, helped, instead of being hindered, by the j.a.panese Government, in consequence of the kindness of Sir Ernest Satow. Naoshima has but few inhabitants, not, I think, more than from sixty to a hundred; in the time of our story, about the year 1156, there were only two,--Sobei and his good wife O Yone. These lived alone at a beautiful little bay, where they had built a fishing-hut, and cultivated some three thousand tsubo of land, with the produce of which and an unlimited supply of fish they were perfectly happy, untroubled by the quarrels of the day, which were then particularly serious, it being the Hogen period, which, lasting from 1156 to 1160, took its name from what was known as the Hogen rebellion or (to put it correctly) revolution. It was during this exciting period that the ex-Emperor Shutoku (life, 1124-1141), who was suspected of leading the rebellion, was for safety banished by those in power to the island of Naoshima.

Stranded, marooned in little else than the clothes he stood in, he was in an unenviable plight. As far as he knew, the island was desolate. After his marooners had left him he strolled on the beach, wondering what next he should do. Should he take his life, or should he struggle to retain it? While pondering these questions night overcame Shutoku before he had thought of making a shelter, and he sat, in consequence, contemplating the past and listening to the sad waves.

Next morning, as the sun rose above the horizon, the ex-Emperor began to move. He had resolved to live. He had not gone far along the beach when he found marks of feet upon the sand, and shortly afterwards, from across a little rocky promontory, he saw smoke ascending in the still air. Lightened in heart, the ex-Emperor stepped out, and after some twenty minutes of stiff climbing came down into the bay where stood the hut of Sobei and his wife. Marching boldly up, he told them who he was, and how he had been marooned and exiled, and asked them many questions.

'Sir,' said Sobei, 'my wife and I are very humble people. We live in peace, for there are none to disturb us here, and we are pa.s.sing through our lives very happily. To our humble fare you are truly welcome. Our cottage is small; but you shall have its shelter while we build another and a better for you, and at all times we shall be your servants.'

The ex-Emperor was pleased to hear these words of friendship, and became one of the family. He helped to build a lodge for himself. He helped the old couple in their fishing and agriculture, and became deeply attached to them.

In the autumn he fell ill, and was nursed through a dangerous fever, his medicines being made by O Yone from leaves, seaweeds, and other natural products of the island; and towards the spring he began to recover. In his convalescence the ex-Emperor went out one day to sit by the sea and admire the scenery, and became so absorbed in a flock of seagulls that were following a school of sardines that he failed to notice what was going on around him. When he looked up suddenly it was to find himself surrounded by no less than fourteen knights in armour.

As soon as these noticed that the ex-Emperor had seen them, one the eldest, a grey-haired and benevolent-looking old man, stepped up to him, and, bowing, said: 'Oh, my beloved Sovereign, at last I have found you! My name is Furuzuka Iga, and regretfully I am obliged to tell you that I am sent by the Mikado to secure your head. He fears while you live, even in banishment, for the peace of the country. Please enable me to take your head as speedily and as painlessly as possible. It is my misfortune to have to do it.'

The ex-Emperor seemed in no way surprised at this speech. Without a word, he arranged himself and stretched his neck to receive the blow from Iga's sword.

Iga, touched by his manly conduct, began to weep, and exclaimed: 'Oh, what a brave sovereign! what a samurai! How I grieve to be his executioner!' But his duty was plain: so he nerved himself and struck off the ex-Emperor's head with a single blow.

As soon as the head fell upon the sand the other knights came up and respectfully placed the head in a silken bag and awaited orders from their chief.

'My friends,' said Furuzuka Iga, 'go back to the boat and take the head of Shutoku to the Emperor. Tell him that his orders have been carried out, and that he need have no future fear. Go without me, for I remain here to weep over the deed which I have had to do.'

The knights were astonished; but they departed, and Iga gave way to grief.

Soon it came to pa.s.s that Sobei and his wife went to look for the ex-Emperor, for his absence had been long. They knew the spot where he loved to sit and gaze at the beautiful scenery. Thus it was that they found Iga weeping.

'What is this?' they cried. 'What means this blood upon the sand? Who, sir, may you be, and where is our guest?'

Iga explained that he was an envoy from the Mikado, and that it had been his painful duty to kill the ex-Emperor.

The fury of Sobei and his wife knew no bounds. Instinctively they decided that they must both die after avenging the ex-Emperor by killing Iga. They proceeded to attack him with their knives--Sobei in front and his wife from behind.

Iga avoided them by his proficiency in jujitsu. In two seconds he had both of them by the wrists, and then said: 'Good people,--for I know you to be such,--listen to my story. The ex-Emperor who has been in exile on this island for nearly a year, and whom you have befriended and prevented from perishing from starvation and exposure, is not the real ex-Emperor, but my own son Furuzuka Taro!'

Sobei and his wife looked at him in bewilderment, and asked for an explanation.

'Listen, and I will tell you,' said Furuzuka Iga. 'As the result of the revolution in the Imperial Household, ex-Emperor Shutoku was taken for the enemy of the reigning Emperor, and was sentenced to exile on this island, which was supposed to be uninhabited, and is so for all but yourselves. The ex-Emperor must have died had you not been here to support him, and, though I am attached to the Imperial Court, I did not like one who had been my sovereign so to perish. It was my duty to bring the ex-Emperor here and maroon him. I marooned instead my own son, who was very much like him, and was glad to take the ex-Emperor's place. Unfortunately, the Mikado's mind became uneasy during the winter, fearing that so long as the ex-Emperor remained alive there might be further trouble, and I was again sent to Naoshima Island, this time to bring back the ex-Emperor's head. You know now what I have had to do. Was ever a father called upon to carry out so terrible a commission? Pity me; be not angered. You have lost your friend, and I my son; but the ex-Emperor still lives; moreover, he knows of my loyalty to him, and will be here shortly in secret and in disguise. That is why I have remained, and that is the whole of the story I have to tell; and both of you must know how deeply grateful I feel towards you both in your great kindness to my son Taro.'

The poor samurai bowed to the ground, and the old couple, too simple to know what to do, remained silent, with tears of sorrow and of sympathy streaming down their faces.

For fully half an hour nothing was said. They remained weeping on the blood-stained beach, waiting for the tide to rise and wash away the marks; and they might have been longer had it not been that suddenly they heard the sweet strains of the biwa (a musical instrument of four strings, a lute) Then Iga arose and, drying his eyes, said, 'Here, my friends, comes the real ex-Emperor, though in disguise. He never goes anywhere without his lute, and he has signs and signals with me by certain airs he plays. He is asking now if it is safe to come forward, and if I give no answer it is safe. Listen, and see him approach!'

Sobei and his wife had never listened to such soft and bewitching music before, and, hearts full of sorrow, they sat listening. Nearer and nearer the music came, until they saw coming along the beach a man in poor clothes, whom they might almost have mistaken for their dead friend, so like was he to him.

When he came nearer, Iga went up and bowed, and then led the stranger to the fisherman and his wife, whom he made known, telling the ex-Emperor what kindness they had shown his son Taro. The ex-Emperor was pleased, and said that he was deeply grateful and considered them as part of that faithful body who had worked to save his life. Just then a ship was seen to round the point of the bay. It was the ship in which Iga had arrived, the ship which had borne away his son's head. The ex-Emperor, followed by Iga, Sobei, and his wife, kneeled on the sand near the b.l.o.o.d.y stain, and prayed long for the peace of the spirit of Taro.

Next day the ex-Emperor announced his intention of remaining for the rest of his life on the island of Naoshima with Sobei and O Yone. Iga was taken to the mainland by Sobei, and found his way back to the capital.

The ex-Emperor, attended by the faithful old couple, lived for a year on the island. His time was pa.s.sed in playing on the biwa and in praying for the spirit of Taro. At the end of the year he died from mournfulness. Sobei and his wife devoted all their spare time to building a small shrine to his memory. It is said to be standing to this day.

In the third year of Ninnan the famous but eccentric priest and poet, Saigyo, who was related to the Imperial family, spent seventeen days on the island, praying night and day. During this time he sat on the favourite rock of Taro and the ex-Emperor. The rock is still known as 'Saigyo iwa' (Saigyo's Rock).

30. O Ai San Continues Her Prayers Under the Fall.

XXVI HOW MASAKUNI REGAINED HIS SIGHT.

SOME seventy years ago there dwelt in Kyoto a celebrated swordmaker, a native of the province of Awa, in Tokushima. Awanokami Masakuni--for such was his name--dwelt in Kyoto for the purpose of business, and because he was nearer the homes of the grandees, for whom it paid him best to make swords. With him lived his beautiful little daughter Ai, or O Ai San ('Ai' meaning 'love'). She was fourteen, and only a child; but her beauty was enough to make her an object of affection to any one who happened to see her. O Ai thought of no one but her father, and of him she was extremely fond.

As time went on Masakuni so improved in the art of making swords and forging blades that he came to be regarded with much jealousy by the other swordmakers, all of whom, including Masakuni, lived in the Karasu-Tengu district of Kyoto, where it was the fashion for swordmakers to dwell in those days. Alas, the skill of Masakuni cost him an eye! Though the samurai and wearers of swords held ethical ideas of honour and Bushi said to be far above the average, it does not appear that the swordmakers were the same. They often committed the most horrible and cowardly crimes. One of these was to put out either one or both of the eyes of their sword-making rivals while they slept. Thus it came to pa.s.s one night that little O Ai San was awakened from her sleep by the piercing cry of her father, and found him writhing on the floor in agony, with his right eye stabbed and burst.

O Ai summoned aid; but nothing could save the eye. It was done for; and, though the place could be healed, Masakuni must give up all idea of ever having the use of his right eye again. There was not even the satisfaction of catching his a.s.sailant, for he did not know who it was. Amid these circ.u.mstances it was evident that Masakuni could no longer remain a swordmaker: after the loss of his eye it would be impossible for him to carry out any of the fine work needed to keep up his reputation. Consequently, he returned to his native village, Ohara, in the province of Awa, with his daughter.

Poor Masakuni had not been long settled in his old home before his left eye began to feel bad, and in less than a week there appeared to be every chance of his losing its use altogether.

Ai was disconsolate. For her dear father to lose the use of both eyes was terrible. She loved him dearly, and knew that his only remaining pleasures in life were herself and beautiful scenery. What could she do, poor child? She waited on him day and night, cooked, and was his nurse. When she had exhausted every means in her power to do good, and her father's left eye grew worse, she betook herself to praying. Daily she toiled up the wild and rocky mountain of Shiratake, near the summit of which there was a little shrine dedicated to Fudo, sometimes thought of as the G.o.d of Wisdom. There, day after day, she prayed that she might be led to the knowledge that would cure her father, and, though it was now the icy month of January, after so doing she divested herself of clothing and stood for nearly half an hour under the waterfall from which the mountain takes its name, as was the custom of all who wished to impress upon the Deity the earnestness and sincerity of their prayers.

For three months O Ai had thus gone up the mountain daily to pray and undergo the terrible cold of the waterfall; yet her prayer seemed unanswered, for there was no improvement in her father. O Ai, however, did not lose heart. Towards the end of February she climbed again. In spite of the severe cold (ice was hanging on to many parts of the rock), O Ai, after praying to Fudo San, divested herself of clothing and stepped under the fall, there to continue her prayers as long as she could possibly stand and live. So great was the cold, in a few moments she lost consciousness, and slipped down into the basin of the fall, receiving a severe blow on the head.

Just then, by unusual good fortune, an old man, followed by his servant, came up the mountain and was looking at and admiring the waterfall. The white body of O Ai San caught his eye while it was being churned in the basin of the fall not thirty feet from where he stood. The old man and the servant hastened to pull out the body and began to rub it, and found that life was not extinct. O Ai was half-drowned and numbed, insensible from cold and the blow, and the blood was flowing freely from the wound.

They made up their minds to save this beautiful girl, and set to with vigour. A fire was lit; her clothes were warmed and put on; and in less than twenty minutes she had opened her eyes and was able to speak. Seeing this, the old man asked: 'Is it by accident we find you thus nearly dead, or have you tried to take your own life?'

'No,' said the girl: 'it is not that I wish to take my own life. It is to save the eyesight of my father that I have come here to pray; this is the hundredth day of my prayer. To-morrow and every following day I shall be here to pray again, and so continue; for it is against the teachings of Buddha to despair.' O Ai then related the history of her father's blindness.

The old man, answering, said: 'If devotion to duty has its reward, yours, young lady, has come. Perhaps you are not aware who I am. My name is Uozumi, Dr. Uozumi. I am the chief doctor in Kyoto, and am the only one at present who has pa.s.sed his full degrees in the Medical Sciences of the Dutch. I have just been to the Palace at Yedo, and am now on my return to Kyoto. I have only put in here with my ship for to-day, and have come up this mountain to admire the scenery. Now I have found you, and so grieve with you in your trouble that I will stay here a week or two and see what can be done for your father. Do not let us lose time: put on the rest of your clothes, and let us go to your house.'

O Ai San was delighted. At last, she thought, her prayer had been answered by Fudo San. With joy in her heart, she almost ran down the mountain, forgetting all about her own narrow escape and the long gash she had received in her head. Dr. Uozumi found it hard to keep anywhere near this healthy young maid.

Arrived at the house, Uozumi made an examination of the patient and ordered remedies after the Dutch prescriptions, the medicines for which he fortunately had with him. Day after day the doctor and O Ai attended on Masakuni, and at the end of the tenth day his left eye was perfectly cured.

Masakuni was delighted at the partial recovery of his sight, and, like his daughter, attributed the good fortune of the celebrated doctor's arrival to the mercy of Fudo San. Having purified his body and soul by living on a vegetable diet and bathing in cold water for ten days, he began making two swords, which some time afterwards he finished. One he presented to the G.o.d Fudo, and the other to Doctor Uozumi. They were afterwards known as the celebrated swords made by the semi-blind Masakuni.

The doctor thought it a pity to allow such a skilled artist as Masakuni to remain in this remote village of Awa Province, and also that the beautiful O Ai should be allowed to rust there: so he persuaded them to join him in Kyoto. Subsequently he obtained a place as maid of honour in the palace of the Duke of Karasumaru for O Ai San, where she was perfectly happy.

Five years later Masakuni died, and was buried in the cemetery of Toribeyama, at the eastern end of Kyoto. So my story-teller, f.u.kuga, tells me.

31. O Cho San Commits Suicide.

XXVII SAGAMI BAY.

HATSUSHIMA ISLAND is probably unknown to all foreigners, and to 9999 out of every 10,000 j.a.panese; consequently, it is of not much importance. Nevertheless, it has produced quite a romantic little story, which was told to me by a friend who had visited there some six years before.

The island is about seven miles south-east of Atami, in Sagami Bay (Izu Province). It is so far isolated from the mainland that very little intercourse goes on with the outer world. Indeed, it is said that the inhabitants of Hatsushima Island are a queer people, and prefer keeping to themselves. Even to-day there are only some two hundred houses, and the population cannot exceed a thousand. The princ.i.p.al production of the island is, of course, fish; but it is celebrated also for its jonquil flowers (suisenn). Thus it will be seen that there is hardly any trade. What little the people buy from or sell to the mainland they carry in their own fishing-boats. In matrimony also they keep to themselves, and are generally conservative and all the better for it.

There is a well-known fisherman's song of Hatsushima Island. It means something like the following, and it is of the origin of that queer verse that the story is:-- To-day is the tenth of June. May the rain fall in torrents! For I long to see my dearest O Cho San. Hi, Hi, Ya-re-ko-no-sa! Ya-re-ko-no-sa!

Many years ago there lived on the island the daughter of a fisherman whose beauty even as a child was extraordinary. As she grew, Cho--for such was her name--improved in looks, and, in spite of her lowly birth, she had the manners and refinement of a lady. At the age of eighteen there was not a young man on the island who was not in love with her. All were eager to seek her hand in marriage; but hardly any dared to ask, even through the medium of a third party, as was usual.

Amongst them was a handsome fisherman of about twenty years whose name was Shinsaku. Being less simple than the rest, and a little more bold, he one day approached Gisuke, O Cho's brother, on the subject. Gisuke could see nothing against his sister marrying Shinsaku; indeed, he rather liked Shinsaku; and their families had always been friends. So he called his sister O Cho down to the beach, where they were sitting, and told her that Shinsaku had proposed for her hand in marriage, and that he thought it an excellent match, of which her mother would have approved had she been alive. He added: 'You must marry soon, you know. You are eighteen, and we want no spinsters on Hatsushima, or girls brought here from the mainland to marry our bachelors.'