The Four Corners in Japan

Presently some one descending from a jinrikisha caught sight of her sitting there, chin in hand, her eyes fixed on the statue. He made his way rapidly to her side, stood for a moment watching the rapt expression of her face, then very softly he spoke, "Miss Nan."

She looked up with a start. "Why, Mr. Harding," she said, "I thought you couldn't come."

"I found that I could get off after all," he replied coming over and seating himself by her side. "Where are the others and what are you doing here all alone?"

"The others are feeling and touching and prying, as if it were not enough to look and become absorbed into the soul of Buddha."

"Oh, you have the fever," cried her companion. "I knew you would get it and that is why I so wanted to be here to-day. I knew how impressed you would be with the wonder of it. Doesn't it express all the peace and the calm you ever dreamed of as existing in Nirvana? Shall you ever forget it?"

"Never, never. I cannot tell you what heights I have climbed while I have been sitting here, nor what dreams I have dreamed, nor where my soul has wandered."

"I saw all that in your face as I came up and I hated to disturb your dreams, yet I wanted to share them. Whenever I have felt homesick and discouraged I have come here and never have I failed to find comfort."

Nan turned to smile and to nod understandingly. Then for a moment the two sat looking at one another. Nan saw a pair of hazel eyes; a rather lean face, smooth shaven; a mouth not small but well-shaped; a rather large nose; a forehead, broad and low, above which was a crop of brown hair of uncertain shade. Not good looking in the least was this brother of her old college mate, but it was a face which could show tenderness, courage and unselfishness and she decided that she liked it very much.

On his part the young man saw a girl with eager, long-lashed gray eyes, a sweet mouth, a clear, colorless complexion and masses of dark hair; not so pretty as her sister Mary Lee, but with a more expressive face and to his mind a more attractive one.

Nan's gaze was the first to falter. She arose rather hastily. "I believe they are looking for me. Shall we go up there and join them? I believe they are buying photographs."

They walked slowly up the paved path, the sunshine and the waving trees about them. Once or twice they stopped while Mr. Harding pointed out some remnant of bygone splendor, a pile of stones, a distant tori-i, but at last they reached the others.

"We are going to have lunch before we go to the temple of Kwannon," Mrs. Craig told them after greeting her nephew whose coming was a surprise to every one. "There is a little inn back there. We can take our jinrikishas back to it."

"Oh, dear, must we eat?" sighed Nan. "I don't feel as if I could lose a moment in this wonderful place. Is it far to the temple of Kwannon and couldn't one walk?"

"Oh, yes, one could walk easily enough, but it seems to me that one could do it better after partaking of a meal," replied Mrs. Craig. So Nan, all unwillingly, followed the rest and in a short time they found themselves on the verandah of the Kaihin-in, the small hotel to which they had come for their meal. They could see a small strip of blue sea between pine woods and sand-dunes, but the famed island of Enoshima was not in sight, though the colonel told them it could be seen from a point a little further on. "We must go there some day," he said, "for it is well worth a visit, and is often included in this trip to Kamakura, but I realize that you are not the kind of rushing Americans who wish to see everything sketchily rather than a few thoroughly, so I think we would better save Enoshima for another day."

"I certainly second that motion," spoke up Nan. "I couldn't come here too often; it perfectly fascinates me."

A queer little meal was served them, – rice, eggs, dried fish, strange sweetmeats, the tender young shoots of the bamboo, and various other things untouched by the guests because undistinguishable. Then forth again they fared to the hill behind the great Dai Butsu where they should find the temple of the great goddess of mercy and pity, she to whom all Japanese mothers pray, for she is the children's protector, they believe.

Before ascending the steps before the temple, the group stood to look off at the blue sea and the plain of Kamakura below them. "To understand Kamakura you must know something of its history," said the colonel, "but we mustn't take time for that to-day, though I advise you to read up when you get back. Japan is so full of history, folk-lore and religious traditions that one can understand only a little of her great sights until he has made a study of certain great personages and certain events."

An old priest in white robes appeared at the entrance, as they came up, and invited them to enter the dim interior, but the great goddess was not to be seen at once. It required a golden means to bring visitors this privilege, though the party lingered to look upon the things at once before them, strange votive offerings, images, lanterns, inscriptions. Leading the way through a low doorway, the priest ushered them into a dark and lofty place where at first nothing was visible but the glimmering light of his lantern.

"Are you able to distinguish anything?" whispered Mr. Harding to Nan.

"Not yet," she answered. "How mysterious it is. Will you tell me what we are expected to see?"

"Wouldn't you rather the mystery would unfold itself?"

"Yes, I believe I would. Now I see something that looks like a great golden foot. Another foot. I see some ropes hanging. What are they for?"

The answer came when the priest hung a couple of lanterns to the ropes and as these were slowly drawn up, the outlines of a figure were disclosed. Further and further swung the lanterns while expectation increased.

"I can see the hand," said one.

"Another hand holding a flower," said another.

"The face! the face! there it is," cried Nan, as a smiling visage at last shone out of the dimness.

"There is more yet," Mr. Harding told her. The "more" proved to be the crown of maiden's faces in pyramidal shape which surmounted the statue. The strangely shining figure in the midst of darkness was very eerie and effective, and they all came away much impressed.

"There are many legends concerning the Kwannon," the colonel told them. "She is supposed to have given up her right to heavenly peace that all mankind should be saved by her prayers. She never refuses a petition except when it is twice made in her name of Hito Koto Kwannon, as it is not the proper thing to address her twice by this title. Under her orders the god Jizo Sama looks after the ghosts of little children. She loves animals and some of the peasants take their cattle to certain shrines to receive her benediction. She represents all that is womanly and loving, and is really one of the very choicest of all the deities."

"I am getting bewildered with all these deities and sub-deities," declared Eleanor. "They don't seem very beautiful, only very large and uncouth."

"That is because you have no imagination, my dear," said her brother. "When you have read all the wonderful legends of this land, you may be more interested."

"Oh, dear, I never did care for mythology," returned she. "I would much rather see shops than shrines, and real people than images."

"Philistine of Philistines, isn't she, Miss Nan?"

"Well, I am sure I couldn't spend hours over dead religions and old worn-out traditions as you do," retorted Eleanor. "You should see Neal when he gets hold of a book of Japanese folk-lore; he is fairly daffy."

Neal and Nan looked at one another and smiled. Each knew that Eleanor was a dear girl but was by no means a creature of sentiment. As if by common consent these two fell behind the others.

"Let us find the sea," said Mr. Harding, and following a rugged path which led to the shore, passing down old stone steps, or under ancient gateways, between rocky walls, they finally came to the sea which lay blue and smiling before them. Wonderful color, mysterious light bathed earth, water, and sky, touching the soft green of a small island near by, shimmering upon the silver and sapphire of the water and turning the sands to mellow gold.

"How wonderfully beautiful," said Nan after she had silently gazed upon the fairy-like scene. "Is it the island Enoshima?"

"Yes, it is Enoshima, the tortoise, the Sacred Isle," her companion told her.

"How does one get to it? It almost seems as if we might be spirited there, or as if we could suddenly develop wings which would carry us."

"There is a perfectly simple way of going at low tide, for there is a little causeway over which one can pass safely. The tide is up now, but we will come when it isn't."

"And that means there is another beautiful thing to do. It looks to me as if we could make Tokyo our headquarters for months to come and yet not exhaust all the fascinating things within an hour's distance of it."

"That is quite true, but when the hot weather comes you will be glad to go up into the mountains somewhere."

"I think that is what Aunt Helen is planning to do. I think we must turn back now for the others are going."

They left the shining sands, where many little children were picking up the beautiful shells which lay in great numbers about them, and followed the rest of the party to the spot where the jinrikishas were waiting, but they walked so slowly that they were the last to arrive.

"It is much too beautiful to leave," explained Nan. "Couldn't we come and stay a little while at either Kamakura or Enoshima, Aunt Helen? There must be somewhere we could be comfortable."

"We shall see," her aunt replied. "We might stay a night or two, perhaps, but we will determine later."

So, leaving the children on the sands, and the goddess in her temple, they were borne swiftly through the desolate and forsaken streets of the once great city that they might take their train back to town.

CHAPTER VII

A FEAST OF BLOSSOMS

"The cherry blossoms are here, so says the paper this morning," announced Mr. Harding as the girls came down to breakfast one day in April.

"The paper says so? What do you mean?" said Eleanor.

"It is so important an event, my dear, that the papers always spread the news abroad," her brother told her. "There will be great doings and we must not miss them."

"Well, I am sure I am pleased to see something more than temples and shrines and such old stuff," returned his sister. "What special form of enticement can you offer us?"

"I was going to suggest a picnic. To be sure Uyeno Park will be crowded with thousands of people who will take a lunch and go there to enjoy the blossoms, but as we shall want to see the crowd as well as the cherry trees we can be satisfied to become parvenu for once."

Eleanor laughed. "As if we never did anything but ride in coaches of state and sit on a raised dais when we are at home. What do you say, girls?" She turned to Mary Lee and Nan.

"It will be great," cried Nan enthusiastically, and Mary Lee agreed, if less heartily.

"We might take a boat and go out on the river," Mr. Harding suggested. "Ever so many persons do that; in fact, I don't know that the river will be any less crowded than the shore; still we can keep a little more to ourselves in a boat. You know the river Sumida's east bank shows ranks of cherry trees which will exhibit finely from the river. We can go ashore any time we like to see the people and can pick out some good place to take a lunch. Would you rather we took a hamper along or shall we depend upon a tea-house or inn or something like that?" He turned to Nan.

The girls consulted together for a while and then gave it as their decision that it would be best to take a hamper. "You see," said Nan, "when there are such crowds it will be difficult to be properly served and one may be starved before getting anything to eat."

"Most wisely concluded," approved Mr. Harding. "Well, we will talk it over with the others and if they all want to do something else there will be at least some of us to vote for the picnic."

But the others were quite satisfied with the arrangement although Mrs. Craig at first proposed that they should return to the hotel for lunch. This plan was so distinctly opposed that she laughingly gave in. "Oh, dear, dear," she cried, "I wouldn't come back for the world. I am sorry I spoke. I never met such a unanimity of opinion."

"We want to forget that there are such things as hotels, if we are to appreciate the spirit of the Feast of Cherry Blossoms," declared her nephew. "It is an outdoor festival entirely and doesn't mean conventionality of any kind."

"Oh, very well, very well, I give in," replied his aunt, "but if Miss Corner and I get tired of crowds and sharp sunlight and noise, you must allow us the privilege of coming back when we feel like it."

"We shall not put the least restraint upon you," spoke up Eleanor. "Neal and I are perfectly capable of chaperoning these two girls and Mr. Montell, who, of course, will come, too; he has been talking about the cherry blossoms ever since we came."

"I will go and call him up," said her brother, "and then, Nell, suppose you and I have a secret session to talk over what is to be packed in the hamper."

"You'd better let me have a word to say about that," spoke up Mrs. Craig. "Eleanor doesn't know anything about what Tokyo can provide, and I have had experience, plenty of it."

She was allowed to take part in the conference while the Corners went off to write letters knowing there would be no further opportunity for such things that day. However, the start was not made till nearly noon, Mr. Montell appearing at the last moment, breathless and fearing lest they had gone without him.

"Couldn't help it," he replied in answer to Mr. Harding's reproach. "Had to get off some stuff in time for the mail steamer and sat up nearly all night in order to get it done; it was a long story, and simply had to be done. Awfully sorry."

"You haven't kept us waiting so very long, Mr. Montell," Eleanor told him. "Neal, himself, wasn't on time."

"But I was detained at the office," explained Neal.

"Well, that is no better excuse than mine," retorted Mr. Montell.

"Here, here, stop your quarreling, you children," cried Mrs. Craig. "You are wasting time. Is everything ready, Neal? Then come along." So off they started to where the jinrikishas were in waiting and it was not long before they were afloat on the river Sumida, upon the top of a flower-adorned pleasure boat from which they could see many other as odd looking crafts, some of them bearing companies of singing girls.

"Isn't it a gay sight?" cried Nan. "It reminds me a little of a fête on the Grand Canal at Venice, only there one sees no such flowers as these and there is no such bright color among the costumes."

"It is stretching one's imagination rather far," said Mary Lee, "for I don't see any resemblance except that there are boats and singing."

"You are so very literal," declared her sister. "I didn't mean that it was exactly like, only that the spirit is the same and one gets something the same feelings."

For a mile along the bank of the river the flowering trees extended presenting an array of double blossoms under which the limbs were bending. Unlike our own cherry blossoms these were of pale pink, and against the blue sky looked like huge bouquets.

"I think the trees at Uyeno Park are really more beautiful," said Mrs. Craig critically. "I think we shall have to see those to-morrow. The blossoms do not last long and that is one reason of their attraction. The Japanese admire very much the dropping petals and refer to it often in their poetry. You see it, too, in their decorations. The double blossoms which you see here do not mean fruit after a while, for even the cherries of the single blossoms are not of much account, far inferior to ours."

"Isn't it so with most of the fruit here?" asked Mary Lee.

"With most, yes, although there is a small orange that is pretty good, and one can get quite nice figs. They raise small fruits, too, which are not half bad, but our American markets supply much better things than one can get here."

Nevertheless when the lunch hamper was opened, there was such a display of food as might be seen on a similar occasion at home.

"Hard-boiled eggs," cried Nan, peering into the basket. "Now I do feel as if I were really on a picnic. Chicken salad, is that? Good. I feel more and more at home. What else is there? Candied ginger, sardines and crackers, cheese, imported of course. I think this is doing pretty well for a foreign land. I observe you have some of those nice little rice cakes as a native production and – a bottle of wine, as I live."

"It is considered a flagrant omission if one doesn't taste wine at this special festival," explained Mr. Montell. "The natives indulge in their saké or rice-wine almost too freely, but I observe that Harding has been careful to observe moderation and has furnished only a very light variety which will hurt no one."

"Well," said Miss Helen, "I don't see that we have anything to complain of and are to be congratulated upon having so wise and efficient a caterer as Mr. Harding."

"Oh, don't lay it to my door," protested the young man. "Nell suggested the eggs and Aunt Nora a lot of the other things."

It was a merry little party which enjoyed their luncheon in sight of the flowering trees and within sound of many merrymakers strumming on samisens, singing in queer strident voices perfectly unintelligible songs and, once in a while, getting a little too uproarious over their gourds of saké.

"They have flower festivals right along through the year, don't they?" said Eleanor. "What will be the next to come?"

"The wistaria," Mr. Montell told her. "A good place to see those flowers is at the temple of Kameido, here at Tokyo, I am told. It is believed that the vines of wistaria flourish better if wine is poured upon their roots and so many a drop is allowed to trickle from the wine-cups used there."

"After the wistaria, what?" inquired Mary Lee.

"The iris. Where's a good place to find those, Neal?" Mr. Montell turned to his friend.

"Just right here close to this river, at a place called Horikiri. It is a great sight to see the crowds on the river then. The flower blooms in June in what is the rainy season, but there are opportunities of getting out between drops. After the iris come the midsummer flowers, the peony and the lotus. The lotus has a religious significance and is specially dedicated to the water goddess Benten whose temple we are going to see at Enoshima. Of course we know the chrysanthemum comes in the fall; it is made much of because it is about the last flower of the year. Many think it the national flower, but the cherry blossom is really that, although the chrysanthemum is honored at court and a magnificent show is given every year in the palace gardens. The royal bird of Japan is the crane as you may have guessed for you so often see it in decorations."

"Isn't it interesting?" whispered Nan to her aunt, "and don't you wish we had sentiment enough to do such things at home? Is the chrysanthemum the very last flower festival of the year?" She turned to ask Mr. Harding.

"Oh, no; at least I should say that with slight modification. The Maple Festival is the last, but that is not exactly a flower festival; it is given at the time when the maple leaves show their most brilliant colors. Other trees turn at the same time and it is the time for picnics and for gathering mushrooms which is made a jollification. You make up a party to gather mushrooms in the country and you enjoy the autumn foliage at the same time."

"What fun! I am going to organize just such a sport when I go home," declared Nan.

Luncheon over, they all decided to join the crowd on the banks of the river. Nan found herself by Mr. Harding's side as they joined the throng of revelers. "I want to tell you about a princess of the old days," he said. "She was not a reasonable young person and declared that she was going to give a cherry-blossom party although the month was December. As a princess must have anything she desired, the court was in despair till some one hit upon a happy plan. The result was that an army of workers was set about making paper blossoms, pink and white, which were fastened on the bare trees and gave so realistic a look to them that the garden party was a great success."

"Where could that happen but in Japan?" said Nan, pleased with the tale. "They make paper flowers so wonderfully that I can imagine the effect was all that could be desired. I have but one thing against these really fascinating people, and that is their music. Did you ever hear anything so dreadful as that singing, for instance?"

"Yet I have heard some little songs which were quite lovely. There is a lullaby which I recall, and which I am sure you will agree is as tender and plaintive as anything we could produce. If I had my violin here I could show you how it goes."

"Oh, do you play the violin?" Nan asked eagerly.

"Yes, a little, and you play the piano very well."

"Nell told you that, of course. I don't play anywhere near as well as I want to, but I do enjoy it. Is your violin here, and can't you play for us some time?"

"I have it at my rooms, but please don't think I am anything of a musician although my violin is a great solace to me. When my aunt gets back to her own house we must have some music. She has a piano there, you know."

Nan gave a sigh of pleasure. "I didn't realize how I missed my music till you began to talk about it," she said. "Even Japan has some disadvantages."

"But doesn't one enjoy a thing all the more after he has been deprived of it a while? We can make but one prayer to Kwannon, you remember, and I suppose that means that we should not ask too much of heaven."

Nan's eyes looked starry and bright as they always did when she was deeply interested. "I liked Kwannon," she said, "but I believe I liked the great bronze Buddha better."

"I thought you did, and so I brought you a little souvenir to-day to commemorate that visit to Kamakura." He drew from his pocket a very small but exquisitely carved figure of the Buddha. It was of jade, and was really a most beautiful piece of work.

"For me?" exclaimed Nan, as he gave it into her hand.

"If you will honor me by taking it. I thought you would like it as a souvenir."

"I should love it, but I don't know if I ought – " She hesitated.

"To take it from your friend's brother? Why not? It is not such a mighty gift."

"No," returned Nan doubtfully, "only it is so very beautifully done, and is really a treasure. I am afraid I shall have to take it."

Mr. Harding laughed.

Nan grew confused. "Oh, please don't think I mean that I don't appreciate it, for I do, very much. It is because I want so dreadfully much to keep it that I was afraid I shouldn't."

"Then please don't have any more compunctions."

"I won't, and I thank you so much. I consider it one of my very greatest and most valuable gifts."

"You will see so many more rare and beautiful things while you are here that you will soon learn how insignificant this little souvenir is. Isn't this a gay and happy crowd? Like a flock of bright butterflies, isn't it? They all wear their very best on such a day."

"The children particularly. What gorgeous kimonos and obis some of them have, and how they do love flowers."

They wandered on, sometimes coming up to the rest of their party, sometimes falling behind, and at last all returned to the boat for another slow journey on the river, and at last to return to the hotel well pleased with this first of their picnics in Japan.

The next day gave promise of rainy weather, and so they hurried to the Uyeno Park to see the trees there, which were already shedding their blossoms. These trees, it must be said, were more impressive in size and showed, against a background of evergreen trees, to better advantage than had those on the cherry avenue along the banks of the river. They contrasted well, too, with the surroundings.

"And here," said Mr. Montell, "is where we hang verses on the trees, I hope you all have yours ready."

There was a scramble for paper and pencils, and each one set about the task of writing rhymes in order to follow out the pretty custom. Presently Nan jumped up and waved her paper. "My ode is completed," she cried.