On Sag ami Bay 



catch of slippery blennies. Near by we found a 

 singular wave-worn cavern, the widened end of a 

 long fault which cuts across the entire island and is 

 similarly gouged out on the north opening. Within, 

 its sides are lined with a long series of stone images or 

 jizos, besides a coiled snake, an elephant, and various 

 other real or symbolic figures. 



When we left the picture island, O-Cho-San fol- o-cho 

 lowed us across the bridge, calling out sayonara ^ an ' s 

 (goodby) to all her associates, as though taking to the taking 

 road with the Daibutsu combination. Neither pretty 

 nor refined but full of good nature, she was one of the 

 most joyous little creatures we met in Japan. 



Following by rail the curved shores of Sagami Bay, 

 the car windows affording exquisite views of Fuji- 

 yama, we next reached the high peninsula of Izu 

 bounding the bay on the south, and continued up the 

 ravine of a boisterous stream through hills covered 

 with pine and bamboo, the latter looking like gigantic 

 feathery ferns. Then crossing the mountain pass at 

 picturesque Gotemba, we stopped for the night at 

 Numazu, "swamp town," the entrance to a smiling 

 plain, the richest district of all Japan. In Numazu 

 an incongruous Methodist chapel, barn-like and 

 painted dull red, contrasted strangely with the 

 dainty Japanese homes. It seemed to me that while 

 giving these people lessons in religion, we might learn 

 from them something of beauty and fitness. 



The joy of the house at our inn, the Sugimoto, was 

 a little three-year-old who bowed to the ground with 

 absurdly solemn face according to the best etiquette. 

 All took a hand in spoiling him, I with the rest, for 

 Japanese children are a constant delight except when 

 stunted by poverty and disease. 



C 21 3 



