The Days of a Man 1900 



Fujiyama Just beyond Numazu we had our finest view of 

 revealed Fuji, which had thrown off its cloud-cloaks and stood 

 revealed in dazzling beauty, a stately cone and very 

 high when thus viewed from sea-level. But native 

 artists always exaggerate its steepness, a natural 

 thing to do as I myself found when I tried to 

 sketch it. 



At Nagoya we caught a glimpse of the famous 

 many-flounced castle, then passed on through a level 

 country wondrously pretty with green rice fields, 

 bamboo-fringed hills, and villages smothered in 

 foliage, till we came to Lake Biwa, the largest expanse 

 of water in Japan. From there the road winds 

 northward up and across the hills, then down to 

 Tsuruga on the tideless Japan Sea. That night we 

 lodged at the Kumagai, kept by peasant folk, bashful, 

 awkward, and well-meaning as all the country people 

 seemed to be. But the burly landlord scolded his 

 help in a loud voice assumed to impress the guests. 

 Early next morning he led us to market, paying for 

 and carrying our purchases, evidently proud of his 

 unusual responsibility. Crude though he was, we 

 found him very intelligent, a fine, virile, out-of-doors 

 man. That he wore only an open shirt and a towel 

 did not disconcert us, as one soon learns to overlook 

 unconventionality! Later in the day, however, we 

 moved closer to the water, finding Daikoku Inn at 

 the port better suited to our purposes. This is a 

 charming little hotel; in the office sang a dainty blue 

 white-bellied and fork-tailed swallow which had built 

 its nest on a shelf out of reach by little boys. The 

 eldest son of the household, an officer in the garrison 

 near by, invited us to tea with four of his courteous 

 brother lieutenants. One of these claimed to speak 



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