noto, an unexplored corner of japan-第6部分

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for　they　fall　in　all　their　entirety　plumb　into　the　sea。　　Following

one　another　for　a　distance　of　sixty　miles；　range　after　range　takes

thus　its　header　into　the　deep。　　The　only　level　spots　are　the　deltas

deposited　by　the　streams　between　the　parallels　of　peak。　　But　these

are　far　between。　　Most　of　the　way　the　road　belts　the　cliffs；　now　near

their　base；　now　cut　into　the　precipice　hundreds　of　feet　above　the

tide。　　The　road　is　one　continuous　observation　point。　　Along　it　our

jinrikisha　bowled。　　In　spite　of　the　rain；　the　view　had　a　grandeur

that　compensated　for　much　discomfort。　　It　was；　moreover；　amply

diversified。　　Now　we　rushed　out　to　the　tip　of　some　high　cape；　now　we

swung　round　into　the　curve　of　the　next　bay；　now　we　wound　slowly

upward；　now　we　slipped　merrily　down。　　The　headlands　were　endless；　and

each　gave　us　a　seascape　differing　from　the　one　we　folded　out　of　sight

behind；　and　a　fringe　of　foam；　curving　with　the　coast；　stretched　like

a　ribbon　before　us　to　mark　the　way。　



We　halted　for　the　night　at　a　fishing　village　called　No：　two　lines　of

houses　hugging　the　mountain　side；　and　a　single　line　of　boats　drawn

up；　stern　on；　upon　the　strand；　the　day　and　night　domiciles　of　the

amphibious　strip　of　humanity；　in　domestic　tiff；　turning　their　backs

to　one　another；　a　stone's　throw　apart。　　As　our　kuruma　men　knew　the

place；　while　we　did　not；　we　let　them　choose　the　inn。　　They　pulled　up

at　what　caused　me　a　shudder。　　I　thought；　if　this　was　the　best　inn；

what　must　the　worst　be　like！　　However；　I　bowed　my　head　to　fate　in　the

form　of　a　rafter　lintel；　and　passed　in。　　A　dim　light；　which　came　in

part　from　a　hole　in　the　floor；　and　in　part　from　an　ineffective　lamp；

revealed　a　lofty；　grotto…like　interior。　　Over　the　hole　hung　a　sort　of

witches'　caldron；　swung　by　a　set　of　iron　bars　from　the　shadowy　form

of　a　soot…begrimed　rafter。　　Around　the　kettle　crouched　a　circle　of

gnomes。　



Our　entrance　caused　a　stir；　out　of　which　one　of　the　gnomes　came　forward；

bowing　to　the　ground。　　When　he　had　lifted　himself　up　enough　to　be　seen；

he　turned　out　quite　human。　　He　instantly　bustled　to　fetch　another　light；

and　started　to　lead　the　strangers　across　the　usual　slippery　sill　and

up　the　nearly　perpendicular　stairs。　　Why　I　was　not　perpetually

falling　down　these　same　stairways；　or　sliding　gracefully　or　otherwise

off　the　corridors　in　a　heap；　will　always　be　a　mystery　to　me。　　Yet；

with　the　unimportant　exception　of　sitting　down　occasionally　to　put　on

my　boots；　somewhat　harder　than　I　meant；　I　remember　few　such　mishaps。　

It　was　not　the　surface　that　was　unwilling；　for　the　constant　scuffle

of　stocking　feet　has　given　the　passageways　a　polish　mahogany　might

envy。　



The　man　proved　anything　but　inhuman；　and　very　much　mine　host。

How　courteous　he　was；　and　in　what　a　pleased　mind　with　the　world；

even　its　whims　of　weather；　his　kind　attentions　put　me！　　He　really　did

so　little；　too。　　Beside　numberless　bows　and　profuse　politeness；

he　simply　laid　a　small　and　very　thin　quilt　upon　the　mats　for　me　to

sit　on；　and　put　a　feeble　brazier　by　my　side。　　So　far　as　mere　comfort

went；　the　first　act　savored　largely　of　supererogation；　as　the　mats

were　already　exquisitely　clean；　and　the　second　of　insufficiency；

since　the　brazier　served　only　to　point　the　cold　it　was　powerless　to

chase。　　But　the　manner　of　the　doing　so　charmed　the　mind　that　it

almost　persuaded　the　grumbling　body　of　content。　



As　mine　host　bowed　himself　out；　a　maid　bowed　herself　in；　with　a　tray

of　tea　and　sugar…plums；　and　a　grace　that　beggared　appreciation。　



〃His　Augustness　is　well　come；〃　she　said；　as　she　sank　on　her　knees　and

bowed　her　pretty　head　till　it　touched　the　mats；　and　the　voice　was

only　too　human　for　heaven。　　Unconsciously　it　made　the　better　part　of

a　caress。　



〃Would　his　Augustness　deign　to　take　some　tea？　　Truly　he　must　be　very

tired；〃　and；　pouring　out　a　cup；　she　placed　it　beside　me　as　it　might

have　been　some　beautiful　rite；　and　then　withdrew；　leaving　me；　beside

the　tea；　the　perfume　of　a　presence；　the　sense　that　something

exquisite　had　come　and　gone。　



I　sat　there　thinking　of　her　in　the　abstract；　and　wondering　how　many

maids　outside　Japan　were　dowried　with　like　grace　and　the　like　voice。　

With　such　a　one　for　cupbearer；　I　could　have　continued　to　sip　tea；　I

thought；　for　the　rest　of　my　natural；　or；　alas；　unnatural　existence。　



There　I　stayed；　squatting　on　my　feet　on　the　mats；　admiring　the　mimic

volcano　which　in　the　orthodox　artistic　way　the　charcoal　was　arranged

to　represent；　and　trying　my　best　to　warm　myself　over　the　idea。

But　the　idea　proved　almost　as　cold　comfort　as　the　brazier　itself。

The　higher　aesthetic　part　of　me　was　in　paradise；　and　the　bodily　half

somewhere　on　the　chill　confines　of　outer　space。　　The　spot　would　no

doubt　have　proved　wholly　heaven　to　that　witty　individual　who　was　so

anxious　to　exchange　the　necessities　of　life　for　a　certainty　of　its

luxuries。　　For　here；　according　to　our　scheme　of　things；　was　everything

one　had　no　right　to　expect；　and　nothing　that　one　had。　　My　European

belongings　looked　very　gross　littering　the　mats；　and　I　seemed　to

myself　a　boor　beside　the　unconscious　breeding　of　those　about　me。

Yet　it　was　only　a　poor　village　inn；　and　its　people　were　but　peasants；

after　all。　



I　pondered　over　this　as　I　dined　in　solitary　state；　and　when　I　had

mounted　my　funeral　pyre　for　the　night；　I　remember　romancing　about　it

as　I　fell　asleep。　



I　was　still　a　knight…errant；　and　the　princess　was　saying　all　manner

of　charming　things　to　me　in　her　still　more　charming　manner；　when　I

became　aware　that　it　was　the　voice　of　the　evening　before　wishing　me

good…morning。　　I　opened　my　eyes　to　see　a　golden　gleam　flooding　the

still…shut　shoji；　and　a　diamond　glitter　stealing　through　the　cracks

that　set　the　blood　dancing　in　my　veins。　　Then；　with　a　startling

clatter；　my　princess　rolled　the　panels　aside。　



Windows　are　but　half…way　shifts　at　best。　　The　true　good…morning　comes

afield；　and　next　to　that　is　the　thrill　that　greets　the　throwing　your

whole　room　wide　to　it。　　To　let　it　trickle　in　at　a　casement　is　to　wash

in　a　dish。　　The　true　way　is　to　take　the　sunshine　with　the　shock　of　a

plunge　into　the　sea；　and　feel　it　glow　and　tingle　all　over　you。　



The　rain　had　taken　itself　off　in　the　night；　and　the　air　sparkled　with

freshness。　　The　tiny　garden　court　lay　in　cool；　rich　shadow；　flecked

here　and　there　with　spots　of　dazzle　where　a　ray　reflected　found　a

pathway　in；　while　the　roofs　above　glistened　with　countless

starpoints。　




Nor　was　mine　host　less　smiling　than　the　day；　though　he　had　not

overcharged　me　for　my　room。　　I　was　nothing　to　him；　yet　he　made　me

feel　half　sorry　to　go。　　A　small　pittance；　too；　the　tea　money　seemed；

for　all　that　had　gone　with　it。　　We　pay　in　this　world　with　copper　for

things　gold　cannot　buy。　　Humanities　are　so　cheapand　so　dear。　



The　whole　household　gathered　in　force　on　its　outer　sill　to　wish　us

good　luck　as　we　took　the　street；　and　threw　sayonaras　（〃if　it　must　be

so〃）　after　us　as　we　rolled　away。　



There　is　a　touch　of　pathos　in　this　parting　acquiescence　in　fate。

If　it　must　be　so；　indeed！　　I　wonder　did　mine　host　suspect　that　I　did

not　all　leave；that　a　part　of　me；　a　sort　of　ghostly　lodger；　remained

with　him　who　had　asked　me　so　little　for　my　stay？　　Probably　in　body　I

shall　never　stir　him　again　from　beside　his　fire；　nor　follow　as　he

leads　the　way　through　the　labyrinth　of　his　house；　but　in　spirit；　at

times；　I　still　steal　back；　and　I　always　find　the　same　kind　welcome

awaiting　me　in　the　guest　room　in　the　ell；　and　the　same　bright　smile

of　morning　to　gild　the　tiny　garden　court。　　The　only　things　beyond　the

grasp　of　change　are　our　own　memories　of　what　once　was。







VI。



On　a　New　Cornice　Road。



The　sunshine　quickened　us　all；　and　our　kuruma　took　the　road　like　a

flock　of　birds；　for　jinrikisha　men　in　company　run　as　wild　geese　fly；

crisscross。　　It　is　an　artistic　habit；　inculcated　to　court　ladies　in

books　on　etiquette。　　To　make　the　men　travel　either　abreast　or　in

Indian　file；　is　simply　impossible。　　After　a　moment's　conformity；　they

invariably　relapse　into　their　own　orderly　disorder。　



This　morning　they　were　in　fine　figure　and　bowled　us　along　to　some

merry　tune　within；　while　the　baby…carriages　themselves　jangled　the

bangles　on　their　axles；　making　a　pleasing　sort　of　cry。　　The　village

folk　turned　in　their　steps　to　stare　and　smile　as　we　sped　past。　



It　was　a　strange…appearing　street。　　On　both　sides　of　it　in　front　of

the　houses　ran　an　arcade；　continuous　but　irregular；　a　contribution　of

building。　　Each　house　gave　its　mite　in　the　shape　of　a　covered　portico；

which　fitted　as　well　as　could　be　expected　to　that　of　its　next　door

neighbor。　　But　as　the　houses　were　not　of　the　same　size；　and　the

ground　sloped；　the　roofs　of　the　porticos　varied　in　level。　　A　similar

terracing　held　good　of　the　floors。　　The　result　was　rather　a

federation　than　a　strict　union　of　interests。　　Indeed；　the　object　in

view　was　communal。　　For　the　arcades　were　snow　galleries；　I　was　told；

to　enable　the　inhabitants　in　winter　to　pass　from　one　end　of　the

village　to　the　other；　no　inconsiderable　distance。　　They　visored　both

sides　of　the　way；　showing　that　then　in　these　parts　even　a　crossing　of

the　street　is　a　thing　to　be　avoided。　　Indeed；　by　all　report　the

drifts　here　in　the　depth　of　winter　must　be　worth　seeing。　　Even　at

this　moment；　May　the　6th；　there　was　still　neve　on　some　of　the　lowest

foothills；　and　we　passed　more　than　one　patch　of　dirt…grimed　snow

buttressing　the　highway　bank。　　The　bangles　on　the　axles　now　began　to

have　a　meaning；　a　thing　they　had　hitherto　seemed　to　lack。　　With　the

snow　arcades　by　way　of　introduction　they　spoke　for　themselves。　

Evidently　they　were　first　cousins　of　our　sleighbells。　　Here；　then；

as　cordially　as　with　us　man　abhors　an　acoustic　vacuum；　and　when　Nature

has　put　her　icy　bell…glass　over　the　noises　of　the　field；　he　must

needs　invent　some　jingle　to　wile　his　ears　withal。　



Once　past　the　houses　w