CHAPTER IIICLIMBING ASAMA-YAMA

Between a series of addresses which I had been giving in his church, in early July of 1892, in Tokyo, and the opening of work at the summer-school at Hakoné, Mr. T. Yokoi and I planned an excursion of a few days to the mountainous region in the interior northward of the Capital City. The addresses had been on topics in philosophy—chiefly the Philosophy of Religion. The weather proved as uncomfortable and debilitating as Japanese summer weather can easily be. In spite of this, however, about two hundred and fifty men, with few exceptions from the student classes, had been constant in attendance and interest to the very end; and I was asking myself where else in the world under similar discouraging circumstances, such an audience for such a subject could readily be secured.

The evening before we were to set out upon our trip, I was given a dinner in the apartments of one of the temples in the suburbs of Tokyo. The whole entertainment was characteristic of old-fashioned Japanese ideals of the most refined hospitality; abrief description of what took place may therefore help to correct any impression that the posturing of geisha girls and the drinking of quantities of hot saké is the only way in which the cultivated gentlemen of Japan know how to amuse themselves. As the principal feature of entertainment on this occasion, an artist of local reputation, who worked with water-colours, had been called to the assistance of the hosts; and we all spent a most pleasant and instructive hour or two, seated on the mats around him and watching the skill of his art in rapid designing and executing. The kakemonos thus produced were then presented to the principal guest as souvenirs of the occasion. The artistic skill of this old gentleman was not indeed equal to his enthusiasm. But on later visits to Japan I have enjoyed the benefits of both observation and possession, in instances where the art exhibited has been of a much higher order. For example, at a dinner given by my Japanese publishers to Mrs. Ladd and me, we witnessed what has since seemed to both of us a most astonishing feat of cultivated æsthetical dexterity. The son of one of the more celebrated artists of Japan at that time (1899), himself a workman of much more than local reputation, had after some hesitation been secured to give an exhibition of his skill at free-hand drawingin water-colours. When two or three designs of his own suggestion had been executed, in not more than ten minutes each, the artist asked to have the subjects for the other designs suggested for him. Among these suggestions, he was requested to paint a lotus; and this was his answer to the request. Selecting a brush somewhat more than two inches in width, he wet three sections of its edge with as many different colours, and then with one sweep of hand and wrist, and without removing the brush from the paper, he drew the complete cup of a large lotus—its curved outlines clearly defined and beautifully shaped, and the shading of the inside of the cup made faithful to nature by the unequal pressure of the brush as it glided over the surface of the paper.

After the dinner, which followed upon the display of the painter’s skill, and which was served by the temple servants, the entire party divided into groups or pairs and strolled in the moonlight through the gardens which lay behind the temple buildings. The topic of talk introduced by the Japanese friend with whom I was paired off carried our thought back to the quiet and peaceful life lived in this same garden by the monks in ancient days; and not by the monks only, but also by the daimyos and generals who were glad, after the fretful time of youth was over, tospend their later and latest days in leisurely contemplation. In general, in the “Old Japan,” the father of the family was tempted to exercise his right of retiring from active life before the age of fifty, and of laying off upon the eldest son the duty of supporting the family and even of paying the debts which the father might have contracted. But it was, and still is, a partial compensation for this custom of seeking early relief from service, that the Japanese, and the Oriental world generally, recognise and honour better than we are apt to do, the need of every human soul to a certain amount of rest, recreation, and time for meditation.

The entertainment over, and the uneaten portion of each guest’s food neatly boxed and placed under the seat of his jinrikisha for distribution among his servants on the home-coming, I was taken back to my lodgings through streets as brilliantly lighted as lanterns and coal-oil lamps can well do, and crowded with a populace of both sexes and all ages who were spending the greater part of the night in the celebration of a local religious festival. The necessity of sitting up still later in order to write letters for the mail which left by the steamer next day, and of rising at four o’clock in the morning, to take an early train from a distant station, did not afford the bestphysical preparation for the hardships which were to be endured during the two or three days following.

It was on applying for a ticket to Yokogawa, which was as far toward the foot of Asama-yama from Tokyo as the railway could take one in those days, that I experienced the only bit of annoying interference with my movements which I have ever met with, when travelling in Japan. But this was in the days of passports and strict governmental regulations for the conduct of foreigners and of natives in their treatment of foreigners. These regulations required that all tourists who wished to visit places beyond tenri, or about twenty-four and a half miles, distant from some treaty-port, must obtain passports from the Japanese Government by application through the diplomatic representative of the country to which they belonged. The purpose of the proposed tour must be expressly stated; and it must be one of these two purposes,—either “for scientific information” or “for the benefit of the health.” The exact route over which it was proposed to travel must also be stated, and the length of time for which the permission was desired. Applications for more than three months were likely to be refused. It was, further, the duty of every keeper of an inn or tea-house where a foreign traveller wished to pass the night, totake up the passport and hand it over to the local police for inspection and for safe keeping until the departure of his guest. The strictness of the compliance with these regulations, however, differed in different places; and nowhere did they serve to destroy or greatly to restrict the kindness and hospitable feelings of the common people. For example, I recall the pathetic story of a missionary, who had lost his way, and having become so exhausted that he felt he could not take another step, applied for shelter during the night in the hut of a peasant family. The man did not dare to break the law which forbade him to harbour the foreign stranger; but he offered, and actually undertook to carry on his back the tired missionary, to the nearest place where he could obtain legal entertainment!

Some weeks before, after a visit in company with a missionary friend and his family to the Shintō temples at Ise, we had all turned aside for a night of rest at the charming sea-side resort of Futami. The other members of the family felt quite at their ease, for they were armed with their passports for the summer vacation; not so, however, the gentleman who was the family’s head and guardian and my interpreter. For he was without the necessary legal permission to pass the night away from home;while the day’s journey of thirty miles in abashawithout springs made the prospect of a return journey that same night anything but desirable to contemplate. But the issue was happy; for the large number of passports furnished by the entire party and duly made over to the police by our host seemed to prove a sufficient covering for us all. And we had come off victorious in another battle with legal restrictions,—a battle royal between the maids, who at the risk of suffocation to human beings, insisted on obeying the law by shutting tight theamado, or wooden sliding doors which formed the outside of our sleeping apartments, and the human beings, who rather than be suffocated, were willing to break the law; since, at best, amodicumof uneasy sleep was to be obtained only in this way. But such petty annoyances are now forgotten; and nowhere else in the world is travel freer and more of kindly pains taken by all classes to make it comfortable and interesting, than in the Japan of the present day.

The policeman at the station being in time satisfied with the legitimacy of the foreigner’s purpose to get where he could ascend Asama-yama, both for purposes of scientific information and for his health, my friend and I took the train for Yokogawa. The railway journey was without incident or special interest.At that date there was a break of about seven miles in the Nakasendō, or “Central Mountain Road,”—the grading and tunnelling being far from complete between Yokohawa and Karuizawa, from which point we intended to make the ascent of the mountain. Although the Nakasendō seems to have been originally constructed early in the eighth century, since it traverses mountainous and sparsely cultivated districts, remote from populous centres, good accommodations for travellers were at that time (1892) not to be had. At present, Karuizawa is one of the principal summer resorts of all this part of Japan; and several thousands of visitors congregate there annually. Travel by jinrikisha up this mountain pass was then difficult and expensive, and we wished to save both strength and time for our walk of the following day. We had, therefore, only the tram as a remaining choice. In the nearly twelve miles of tram-way there were scarcely twenty rods of straight track; and the ascent to be made amounted to some 2,000 feet in all. Yet the miserable horses which drew the small car were whipped into a run almost the entire way. The car itself resembled a diminutive den for wild beasts, such as menageries use in their street parades, although far less commodious or elegant. It was designed to holdtwelve passengers; but this complement could possibly be got in, only if the passengers were uniformly of small size and submitted to the tightest kind of packing. By sitting up as straight as I could, and sandwiching my legs in between the legs of the Japanese fellow-traveller on the opposite side, it was barely possible to bring my thigh bones within the limits of the width allowed by the car. Plainly this vehicle was not planned to accommodate the man of foreign dimensions. As we swayed around the perpetually recurring curves of the narrow track, it was rather difficult to avoid slight feelings of nervousness; and these were not completely allayed by being assured that accidents did not happen so very often; nor, more especially, by the sight of a horse and cart which had plunged off the roadway to the valley forty or more feet below, where the animal lay dying and surrounded by a little crowd of those calm and inactive spectators who, in Japan, are so accustomed to regard all similar events asshikata-ga-nai(or things which cannot be helped). We arrived, however, at Shin (or New) Karuizawa, somewhat jumbled and bruised, but in safety; and here we at once took jinrikishas for the older place of the same name.

“THE VILLAGES HAVE NEVER BEEN REBUILT”

Asama-yama is the largest now continuously activevolcano in Japan. Its last great and very destructive eruption was in the summer of 1783, when a vast stream of lava destroyed a considerable extent of primeval forest and buried several villages, especially on the north side of the mountain. Over most of this area thevillages have never been rebuilt. Even the plain across which we rode between the two Karuizawas, and which lies to the southeast, is composed of volcanic ash and scoriæ; and since 1892, stones of considerable size have often been thrown into the yards of the villas inhabited by the summer visitors in this region. Yet more recently, there have been exhibitions of the tremendous destructive forces which are only biding their time within the concealed depths of this most strenuous of Japan’s volcanos. On the south side of the mountain rise two steep rocky walls, some distance apart, the outer one being lower and partly covered with vegetation. It is thought by geologists that these are the remains of two successive concentric craters; and therefore that the present cone is the third of Asama-yama’s vent-holes for its ever-active inner forces.

It had been our intention to follow what the guide-book described as the “best plan” for making the ascent of the volcano; and this was to take horses from the old village of Karuizawa, where itwas said foreign saddles might be procured, ride to Ko-Asama, and then walk up by a path of cinders, described as steep but good and solid, and plainly marked at intervals by small cairns. First inquiry, however, did not succeed in getting any trace of suitable horses, not to mention the highly desirable equipment of “foreign saddles.” After taking a late and scanty luncheon in a tea-house which for Japan, even in the most remote country places, seemed unusually dirty and disreputable, we went out in further search of the equipment for the climb of the next day. On emerging from the tea-house, right opposite its door, we came upon a gentleman in a jinrikisha, who was a traveller from America—a much rarer sight in those parts twenty years ago than at the present time. Salutations and inquiries as to “Where from” and “What about,” were quickly interchanged as a matter of course. It turned out that we were making the acquaintance of the father of one of the Canadian missionaries, who was visiting his son and who was at that very instant on his way to the station to take train to Komoro, a village some fourteen miles over the pass, from which that night a party of ten or twelve were planning to ascend Asama-yama by moonlight. Permission was asked and cordiallygiven for us to become members of this party; and the gentleman in the jinrikisha then went on his way as rapidly as the rather decrepit vehicle and its runner could convey him.

As for us, all our energies were now bent on catching that train; for it was the last one of the day and it was certain that our plans could not easily be carried out from the point of starting where we then were. Our belongings were hastily thrust into the bags and a hurry call issued for jinrikishas to take us to the station. But our new acquaintance had gone off in the only jinrikisha available in the whole village of Karuizawa. What was to be done? A sturdy old woman volunteered her assistance; and some of the luggage having been mounted on a frame on her back, we grabbed the remainder and started upon a sort of dog-trot across the ashy plain which separated the tea-house by more than a mile and a half from the railway station. As we came in sight of the train, the variety of signals deemed necessary to announce by orderly stages the approach of so important an event gave notice to both eyes and ears that it was proposing soon to start down the mountain pass; and if it once got fairly started, the nature of the grade would make it more difficult either to stop or to overtake it. Myfriend, therefore, ran forward gesticulating and calling out; while I assisted the old woman with the burdens and gave her wages and tips without greatly slackening our pace. The railway trains of that earlier period, especially in country places, were more accommodating than is possible with the largely increased traffic of to-day; and the addition of two to the complement of passengers was more important than it would be at present. And so we arrived, breathless but well pleased, and were introduced to several ladies in the compartment, who belonged to the party which proposed to make the ascension together.

The route from Karuizawa to Komoro is a part of what is considered by the guide-book of that period, “on the whole the most picturesque railway route in Japan.” The first half is, indeed, comparatively uninteresting; but when the road begins to wind around the southern slope of Asama-yama, the character of the scenery changes rapidly. Here is the water-shed where all the drainage of the great mountain pours down through deep gullies into rivers which flow either northward into the Sea of Japan or southward into the Pacific. From the height of the road-bed, the traveller looks down upon paddy-fields lying far below. The mountainitself changes its apparent shape and its colouring. The flat top of the cone lengthens out; it now becomes evident that Asama is not isolated, but is the last and highest of a range of mountains. The pinkish brown colouring of the sides assumes a blackish hue; and chasms rough with indurated lava break up into segments which follow the regularity of the slopes on which they lie.

Komoro, the village at which we arrived just as the daylight was giving out, was formerly the seat of a daimyo; but it has now turned the picturesque castle-grounds which overhang the river into a public garden. It boasted of considerable industries in the form of the manufacture of saddlery, vehicles, and tools and agricultural implements. But its citizens I found at that time more rude, inhospitable, and uncivilised than those I have ever since encountered anywhere else in Japan. Our first application for entertainment at an inn was gruffly refused; but we were taken in by another host, whom we afterwards found to have all the silly dishonest tricks by which the worst class of inn-keepers used formerly to impose upon foreigners.

The plan agreed upon for the ascent was to start at ten in the evening, make the journey by moonlight, and so arrive at the mountain’s top in time to see thevolcanic fires before dawn but after the moon had gone down; and then, still later, the wide-spreading landscape at sunrise. Six horses were ordered for those of the party who preferred to ride the distance of nearly thirteen miles which lay between the inn and the foot of the cone; while the other five—four of the younger men and one young woman—deemed themselves hardy enough to walk the entire way. As the event proved, a walk of twenty-five miles, half of it steeply up hill, followed by a climb of two thousand feet of ash cone, while not a great “stunt” for trained mountaineers, is no easy thing for the ordinary pedestrian.

The horses had been ordered to be in front of the inn not later than ten o’clock. And at that hour we all began to put on our shoes and otherwise make preparations for a start at the appointed time. But who in those days, or even now, unless it be by railway train, in Japan would reasonably expect to start anywhere at precisely the appointed time? At ten, at eleven, and at midnight, still the horses had not come. At the later hour, the pedestrians of the party made a start, bidding the others a pleasant and somewhat exasperating good-bye, and exhorting them to bring along the luncheon baskets in time for to-morrow morning’s breakfast. An angry messengerdespatched to the head-quarters of the “master of the horse,” brought back the soothing message that men had some time before been sent into the fields to gather in the animals, which had been at work all day; and that they certainly would be forthcoming—tadaiama. Now the word “tadaiama” for the inexperienced is supposed to mean immediately (althoughjiki nior “in a jiffy” is really the more encouraging phrase); but the initiated know full well that no definitely limited period is intended by either word. At one o’clock in the morning, still the horses had not arrived. At this hour, therefore, a more sharp reprimand and imperative order was sent to the stables; and the same promising answer was returned. At two o’clock the same performance was repeated, with this difference that now the story ran: A second detachment of men had been sent out by the master of the horse; and they would surely return with both men and horses—“tadaiama.”

During these four hours I had been lying on the outer platform of the tea-house, fighting mosquitoes, and trying to get snatches of sleep; since my quota of this sort of preparation for a stiff day’s work had been only three hours during the last forty-eight. A crowd of villagers, of all sortsand sizes, had gathered in front of the platform, which, of course, was open to the street, and were fixedly gazing at the foreigner with that silent and unappeased curiosity which need seriously offend no one who understands its motive and the purpose it is intended to serve. One of the village wags and loafers was continuously and monotonously discoursing to the crowd in a manner so amusing as to call forth repeated outbursts of laughter; and it was evident that the subject of the discourse was the strange and ridiculous ways of foreigners in general; if not the strange and ridiculous appearance of the particular foreigner just now illustrating the characteristics universal with the race. Obviously such conditions were not favourable to restful sleep.

Since, soon after three o’clock the horses had not come, my native friend paid a visit to the stables in person; and fifteen or twenty minutes later the six animals required were standing, with theirBettos, before the inn, under the fading moonlight. When I inquired how he succeeded in accomplishing so quickly what others had failed to accomplish by hours of angry effort, his reply was that he told the keeper of the stable there was a distinguished foreigner waiting at the inn, who was very angryat being treated with such indignity; and that he would himself report the matter to the authorities at Tokyo and have his license taken away, if he did not furnish the horses immediately. “Did you tell him,” I said jestingly “that such behaviour might lead to serious international complications?” “No,” said my friend, “but I did tell him that it would affect treaty revision very unfavourably.” Such a statement was, at the time it was made, not so extravagant and purely jocose as it might seem. For the nation was justly dissatisfied and restless under the claims of foreign nations to the continuance of ex-territorial rights for themselves; and even to the right to regulate the import and export duties of Japan. It is to the credit of the memory of the late American Minister, Colonel Buck, that he was one of the first to express and to exercise confidence in the Japanese to manage both their internal and their foreign affairs on terms of a strict equality with all the first-class nations. At that time, however, not a few foreigners, both within and outside of diplomatic circles, were objecting to a fair arrangement of international obligations, on the ground of complaints as trivial as mine would have been, if it had been madeanentthe delay of the horses.

Those who have never tried a ride of twenty-five miles on a Japanese farm horse, with a wooden saddle but without either stirrups or bridle, do not know what physical tortures may be involved in it. I was assigned the youngest and friskiest beast of burden among them all; and if I had been able to have any control over him, the choice would have been somewhat to my advantage. But I had absolutely no control; for each animal had its own specialbetto, whose duty was to lead it by a long straw-rope; and as I have already said there was no bridle for any of the horses. Mybettowas a loutish, impudent fellow, who had the unpleasant habit of throwing down his rope—sometimes at the most ticklish places—and sauntering back to smoke with his fellows, leaving me, of course, quite helpless before any fate chosen for me by the caprices of my mount. And the mount was uncommonly high, for a large supply of blankets had been placed beneath the steep wooden saddle, for the protection of the horse’s back. Since I knew no Japanese words of threatening or other vigorous protest, I was compelled for the most part to submit in an alarmed quiet; but occasionally, as for example when we were going along the side of the mountain, which was as steep as gravity would let the scoriæ and asheslie, and where the path was scarcely more than a foot in width, I could invoke the aid of my friend, who was generally within hailing distance. His effective intervention, in a language understood by both persons, would then usually bring mybettosauntering back to resume again his neglected duties.

The dawn, when we reached the uplands outside the village of Komoro, was as beautiful as dawn in summer in Japan can ever be. Below us lay the village with its surroundings; in front and at our side, the mountain; and overhead the larks were singing, the stars were waning, and the soft light and brilliant colouring of the early morning were creeping up the sky.

As we rose higher and higher above the village, the view behind us widened, and the way became steeper and more difficult for the horses; perhaps in places also slightly dangerous. About half the distance of the mountain’s height upward, all vegetation ceases, and the path, joining that from Oiwake, a hamlet lying several miles nearer Karuizawa than does Komoro, proceeds over a steep ascent of loose ash to the edge of the outer ridge. This ridge appears from the villages below to be the summit of the volcano, but is in reality considerablybelow it. It was near this point that we learned the discouraging experiences of the party of pedestrians who had started out at about midnight of the night before. The native guide whom they employed had lost and then deserted them; the young woman had fainted quite away with exhaustion; the men detailed to procure assistance and have her conveyed to the nearest farmhouse, several miles away, had of course abandoned the excursion; while the others had been able only to have a glimpse from the mountain’s top, and were now hastening down in the hope of meeting us, who were ascending with the baskets containing a much-needed breakfast. It was some satisfaction to know that the man whom we had earlier seen wandering around in a clearing on the side of a lower mountain which arose across a wooded ravine was no other than the faithless guide. He had lost himself, after abandoning his charge!

When we came within a mile of the foot of the true cone thebettosstruck and demanded morebackshish, under the pretence that this was as far as they had been hired to go. Negotiations followed, accompanied by threats, and resulting in our moving onward after another annoying delay to the proper place from which to attack the mountain.

After a mid-day breakfast we began the last stage of our climbing of Asama-yama; and indeed this can scarcely be called a climb in any strict meaning of the word. It is rather a stiff walk—ankle deep or more in scoriæ and ashes—up a cone some two thousand feet in perpendicular height. It was obvious that we could no longer hope to have the interesting experiences covered by the original plan. There was no chance of seeing the volcanic fires made more impressive by the darkness of night; and sunrise had already passed by many hours. What was still worse, just while we were eating luncheon, a thick cloud came down upon the mountain and completely shrouded objects even a few rods away. There remained, however, the crater and its unceasing display of the forces raging within. Plodding steadily along, with muscles stiff and aching from the six-and-a-half hours of such a horse-back ride, brought us to the top; and here, of course, the cloud had somewhat of the same effect as that which we had expected to be furnished by the darkness of night.

The side of the cone of Asama-yama is strewn with large, rough fragments of loose lava, and unfathomable rifts extend for the greater part of the distance down to its very base. The crater is almost circular in shape, and nearly a mile in circumference.Its sides and crest are horribly jagged; and its depths, as far down them as one can see, give a lively picture of the popular conception of a veritable hell. The coolies warned us on no account to throw any stones, however small, into the crater; otherwise the god of the mountain might be angered by the insult, and avenge it by overwhelming us with fire and smoke. To escape any touch of such a fate, it seemed to us unbelievers more necessary to keep as much as possible to the windward side of the crater. And, indeed, even with this caution, it was not possible to escape all discomfort. On approaching as near as was at all safe, one saw, as far as sight could reach, great masses of sulphur on the rocks, clouds of steam bursting from the sides and clouds of smoke rising from lower down; while once in about every two minutes sheets of flame sprang out and rose occasionally far above the crater’s mouth.

Coming down the cone, we were constantly losing the path, so thick had the cloud surrounding the mountain become. The prospect of descending at any other than the right spot was not at all attractive; for this would mean wandering about indefinitely in those many square miles of the region which had been desolated and rendered uninhabitable bythe eruption of more than a century before. This mishap we undertook to avoid by the simple expedient of always keeping within easy hailing distance of each other; and then when any one of the party picked up the lost path, it was easy to reassemble the entire party.

The ride back to the inn at Komoro was even more tedious than the ride upward had been. In places it was, as a matter of course, somewhat more dangerous, considering the character of thebettosand their horses. Mindful of this and willing at times to escape the torture of the pack-saddles, my Japanese friend and I walked a considerable proportion of the distance; the missionary ladies trusted the Lord and never once dismounted from their horses. In these different ways we all arrived safely at the inn from which we had set out about fourteen hours before.

And now we were to have another specimen of the wisdom and morality of the old-fashioned innkeeper in his dealings with foreigners in Japan. For our host, through whom the contract for the horses had been made, insisted that he must have double the contract price, on the ground that the animals had doubled the distance for which they were hired, by bringing us back again. Here, forthe third and last time, the shaming and threatening process was gone through with, and justice in dealing reluctantly forced instead of submission to fraud. By the time this unwelcome item of business was accomplished, however, it was necessary for my friend and me to bid good-bye to the rest of the party and to make all possible haste in jinrikishas to the station in order to catch the last train for Shin-Karuizawa, where we intended to spend the night. For we knew that here, in close proximity to the station, a new tea-house had just been opened by a host who was desirous of catering to foreigners and who had some faint notions at least of what was necessary in order to realise his desire.

On arrival, our first inquiry was for that old-fashioned Japanese bath, which, when followed by the native form of massage, excels, as a remedy for exhausted nerves and sore and tired muscles, anything to be found elsewhere in the world. The reply of the host was that, of course, the bath had been prepared, but only one other guest had as yet made use of it; if then the foreign gentleman had no objection on this account, he could be served at once. It would take an hour, however, to prepare a fresh bath. Under the circumstances, promptness seemed much preferable to extreme squeamishness; and onlyan extreme of this trait so inconvenient for the traveller in those days in Japan would raise a mountain of objections, when one knew that every decent Japanese does his washing of the entire body most thoroughly, before he enters the bath.

After a bath and a supper of rice, eggs and tea, cameamma san, the professional blindmasseuseof the neighbourhood, who, for the munificent sum of twenty cents—fee and tip of generous proportions included—greatly relieved the tired pedestrians. The trip next morning down the tram was much less uncomfortable than the upward trip had been. In the evening of the same day I spoke in the theatre at Maebashi, the principal centre of the silk trade of this region; and then the following day we went on to Ikao. The fifteen miles between these two places were travelled in jinrikishas or on foot,—a style of journeying which was pleasant and more merciful, since the steep rise of the latter part of the way made their work too hard even with two men to each jinrikisha. And indeed, I have never been able to be amused rather than angered at the sight, common enough even now, of a fat English or American woman jabbing a little Japanese man with her parasol in order to make him run faster. How can we modify so as to cover a case like this, the motto: “Amercifulmanis merciful to hisbeast!” And here I should like to say a good word for the Japanese jinrikisha runner. In the old-time treaty ports, chiefly through the influence of foreigners, he has indeed been sadly corrupted. But in the old feudal towns and country places he is in general an honest, well-meaning fellow, who strives hard to give satisfaction to his employer by doing his hard work faithfully. And of the several whom I have had with me for weeks and months together, there has not been one to whom I have not become attached.

“FOR CENTURIES LOVERS HAVE MET ABOUT THE OLD WELL”

There is no need to describe the attractions of Ikao, with its main street consisting of a nearly continuous steep flight of steps, and its houses on the side streets hanging over each other as they sit on the terraced slope of Mount Haruna, or border on the deep ravine of Yusawa, through which rushes a foaming torrent.For centuries lovers have met about the old wellin the centre of its lower end. All this will be remembered by those who have been there; or it can be read about in the guidebooks. But other engagements prevented a long stay in this delightful spot; nor could time be spared for a visit to Mushi-yu, further up the mountain, where numbers of peasants were coming to avail themselves of the sulphurous gases which were supposed to be goodfor rheumatic troubles. The acuteness of our self-denial of the last-mentioned privilege was enhanced by an advertisement which was posted just where the path up the mountain diverges from the main way, and where the Christian patriot Neesima spent some of his last hours. This advertisement read: “Hot steam baths! uncommon to the World. Cures rhumatiz, stummach-ake and various other all diseases by Cold caught.”

The return to Tokyo was wholly commonplace. In spite of numerous petty annoyances and disappointments, such as are to be expected anywhere in the world by the traveller in as yet unfrequented parts, and even when recalling with a grimace the physical discomforts of the pack-horses with their wooden saddles and their faithlessbettos, my friend and I are still fond of recurring in memory to the fun we had when, in July of 1892, together we climbed Asama-yama.

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