noto, an unexplored corner of japan-第3章

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his　eyes　riveted　on　the　boy；　visions　of　a　possible　catch　chasing

themselves　through　his　brain。　　I　watched　him；　while　the　crowd　behind

stared　at　me。　　We　made　quite　a　tail　of　curiosity。　　The　opiate　was

having　its　effect；　I　began　to　feel　soporifically　calm。　　Then　I　went

up　to　the　restaurant　in　the　park　and　had　lunch　as　quietly　as

possible；　in　fear　of　friendly　discovery。



Sufficiently　punctual　passengers　being　now　permitted　to　board　the

next　train；　I　ensconced　myself　in　a　kind　of　parlor　compartment；　which；

fortunately；　I　continued　to　have　all　to　myself；　and　was　soon　being

rolled　westward　across　the　great　Musashi　plain；　ruminating。　　My　chief

quarrel　with　railway　rules　is；　I　am　inclined　to　think；　that　they

preach　to　the　public　what　they　fail　to　practice　themselves。　　After

having　denied　me　a　paltry　five　minutes'　grace　at　the　station；　the

officials　proceeded　to　lose　half　an　hour　on　the　road　in　a　most

exasperating　manner。　　Of　course　the　delay　was　quite　exceptional。　

Such　a　thing　had　never　happened　before；　and　would　not　happen

againtill　the　next　time。　　But　the　phenomenal　character　of　the

occurrence　failed　to　console　me；　as　it　should　no　doubt　have　done。

My　delay；　too；　was　exceptionalon　this　line。　　Nor　was　I　properly　

mollified　by　repeated　offers　of　hard…boiled　eggs；　cakes；　and　oranges；

which　certain　enterprising　peddlers　hawked　up　and　down　the　platforms；

when　we　stopped；　to　a　rhythmic　chant　of　their　own　invention。



The　only　consolation　lay　in　the　memory　of　what　travel　over　the

Musashi　plain　used　to　be　before　trains　hurried　one；　or　otherwise；

into　the　heart　of　the　land。　　In　those　days　the　journey　was　done　in

jinrikisha；　and　a　question　of　days；　not　hours；　it　was　in　the　doing；

two　days'　worth　of　baby　carriage；　of　which　the　tediousness　lay

neither　in　the　vehicles　nor　in　the　way；　but　in　the　amount　of　both。

Or；　if　one　put　comparative　speed　above　comparative　comfort；　he　rose

before　the　lark；　to　be　tortured　through　a　summer's　day　in　a　basha；

or　horse　vehicle；　suitable　only　for　disembodied　spirits。　　My　joints

ached　again　at　the　thought。　Clearly；　to　grumble　now　was　to　sin

against　proportion。



Besides；　the　weather　was　perfect：　argosies　of　fleecy　cloud　sailing

slowly　across　a　deep　blue　sky；　a　broad　plain　in　all　its　spring

freshness　of　color；　picked　out　here　and　there　with　fruit　trees

smothered　in　blossom；　and　bearing　on　its　bosom　the　passing　shadows　of

the　clouds　above；　in　the　distance　the　gradually　growing　forms　of　the

mountains；　each　at　first　starting　into　life　only　as　a　faint　wash　of

color；　barely　to　be　parted　from　the　sky　itself；　pricking　up　from　out

the　horizon　of　field。　　Then；　slowly；　timed　to　our　advance；　the　tint

gathered　substance；　grew　into　contrasts　that；　deepening　minute　by

minute；　resolved　into　detail；　until　at　last　the　whole　stood　revealed

in　all　its　majesty；　foothill；　shoulder；　peak；　one　grand　chromatic

rise　from　green　to　blue。



One　after　the　other　the　points　came　out　thus　along　the　southern　sky：

first　the　summits　behind　Ome；　then　Bukosan；　like　some　sentinel；

half…way　up　the　plain's　long　side；　and　then　range　beyond　range

stretching　toward　the　west。　　Behind　Bukosan　peeped　Cloud's　Rest；　the

very　same　outline　in　fainter　tint；　so　like　the　double　reflection

from　a　pane　of　glass　that　I　had　to　shift　to　an　open　window　to　make

sure　it　was　no　illusion。　　Then　the　Nikko　group　began　to　show　on　the

right；　and　the　Haruna　mass　took　form　in　front；　and　as　they　rose

higher　and　the　sunbeams　slanted　more；　gilding　the　motes　in　the　heavy

afternoon　air；　they　rimmed　the　plain　in　front　into　one　great　bowl　

of　fairy　eau　de　vie　de　Dantzic。　　Slowly　above　them　the　sun　dipped　to

his　setting；　straight　ahead；　burnishing　our　path　as　we　pursued　in　

two　long　lines　of　flashing　rail　into　the　west…northwest。　　Lower　he

sank；　luring　us　on；　and　lower　yet；　and　then　suddenly　disappeared　

beyond　the　barrier　of　peaks。



The　train　drew　up；　panting。　　It　was　Takasaki；　now　steeped　in　saffron

afterglow。　　The　guards　passed　along；　calling　out　the　name　and　

unfastening　the　doors。　　Everybody　got　out　and　shuffled　off　on　their

clogs。　　The　baskets；　Yejiro；　and　I　followed；　after　a　little；　through　

the　gloaming。



It　was　not　far　to　the　inn。　　It　was　just　far　enough；　at　that　hour；　to

put　us　in　heart　for　a　housing。　　Indeed；　twilight　is　the　time　of

times　to　arrive　anywhere。　　Any　spot；　be　it　ever　so　homely；　seems

homelike　then。　　The　dusk　has　snatched　from　you　the　silent

companionship　of　nature；　to　leave　you　poignantly　alone。　　It　is　the

hour　when　a　man　draws　closer　to　the　one　he　loves；　and　the　hour　when

most　he　shrinks　from　himself；　though　he　want　another　near。　　　It　is

then　the　rays　of　the　house　lights　wander　abroad　and　appear　to　beckon

the　houseless　in；　and　that　must　be；　in　truth；　a　sorry　hostelry　to

seem　such　to　him。



Even　Takasaki　bore　a　look　of　welcome　alike　to　the　foreign　and　the

native　stranger；　which　was　certainly　wonderful　for　Takasaki。　　The

place　used　not　to　fancy　foreigners；　and　its　inns　bandied　the　European

traveler　about　like　a　bale　of　undesirable　merchandise　with　the　duties

still　due。　　But　now；　what　a　change！　　The　innkeeper　not　only　received

us；　but　led　the　way　at　once　to　the　best　room；a　room　in　the　second

story　of　the　fireproof　storehouse　at　the　back；　which　he　hoped　would

be　comfortable。　　Comfortable！　　The　room　actually　proffered　us　a　table

and　chairs。　　No　one　who　has　not；　after　a　long　day's　tramp；　sought　in

vain　to　rest　his　weary　body　propped　up　against　a　side　beam　in　a

Japanese　inn　can　enter　into　the　feeling　a　chair　inspires；　even　long

afterward；　by　recollection。　



I　cannot　say　I　loved　Takasaki　in　former　days。　　Was　it　my　reception　or

was　it　sentiment　that　made　me　see　it　all　now　through　a　mist　of　glamour？

Unsuspected　by　us；　that　atmosphere　of　time　tints　everything。　　Few

things　but　look　lovelier　seen　down　the　vista　of　the　years。　　Indeed；

sentiment　is　a　kind　of　religion；　or　is　it　religion　that　is　a　kind　of

sentiment？　　Both　are　so　subtly　busy　canonizing　the　past；　and　crowning

with　aureoles　very　every…day　things　as　well　as　very　ordinary　people。　

Not　men　alone　take　on　a　sanctity　when　they　are　no　more。　







III。　



The　Usui　Pass。



The　first　object　to　catch　my　eye；　when　the　shoji　were　pushed　apart；

the　next　morning；　was　a　string　of　the　ubiquitous　paper　fish；　dangling

limp　in　the　motionless　May　air　from　a　pole　in　a　neighboring　yard；

highly　suggestive　of　having　just　been　caught　for　breakfast。　　The

sight　would　have　been　painfully　prophetic　but　for　the　food　we　had

brought　with　us；　for；　of　all　meals；　a　Japanese　breakfast　is　the　most

cold；　the　most　watery；　and　the　most　generally　fishy　in　the　world。

As　it　was；　breakfast　consisted　of　pathetic　copies　of　consecrated

originals。　　It　might　have　been　excellent　but　for　the　canned　milk。　



No　doubt　there　are　persons　who　are　fond　of　canned　milk；　but；　for　my

part；　I　loathe　it。　　The　effect　of　the　sweetish　glue　upon　my　inner　man

is　singularly　nauseating。　　I　have　even　been　driven　to　drink　my

matutinal　coffee　in　all　its　after…dinner　strength　rather　than

adulterate　it　with　the　mixture。　　You　have；　it　is　true；　the　choice　of

using　the　stuff　as　a　dubious　paste；　or　of　mixing　it　with　water　into　a

non…committal　wash；　and；　whichever　plan　you　adopt；　you　wish　you　had

adopted　the　other。　　Why　it　need　be　so　unpalatably　cloying　is　not

clear　to　my　mind。　　They　tell　me　the　sugar　is　needed　to　preserve　the

milk。　　I　never　could　make　out　that　it　preserved　anything　but　the

sugar。　Simply　to　see　the　stuff　ooze　out　of　the　hole　in　the　can　is

deterrent。　　It　is　enough　to　make　one　think　seriously　at　times　of

adding　a　good　milch　cow　to　his　already　ample　trip　encumberment；　at

the　certain　cost　of　delaying　the　march；　and　the　not　improbable　chance

of　being　taken　for　an　escaped　lunatic。　　Indeed；　to　the　Japanese　mind；

to　be　seen　solemnly　preceding　a　caravan　of　cattle　for　purposes　of

diet　would　certainly　suggest　insanity。　　For　cows　in　Japan　are　never

milked。　　Dairy　products；　consequently；　are　not　to　be　had　o