Over a long bridge and under a tall torii we roll into upward-sloping
streets. Like Enoshima, Kitzuki has a torii for its city gate; but
the torii is not of bronze. Then a flying vision of open lamp-lighted
shop-fronts, and lines of luminous shoji under high-tilted eaves, and
Buddhist gateways guarded by lions of stone, and long, low, tile-coped
walls of temple courts overtopped by garden shrubbery, and Shinto
shrines prefaced by other tall torii; but no sign of the great temple
itself. It lies toward the rear of the city proper, at the foot of the
wooded mountains; and we are too tired and hungry to visit it now. So we
halt before a spacious and comfortable-seeming inn,--the best, indeed,
in Kitzuki--and rest ourselves and eat, and drink sake out of exquisite
little porcelain cups, the gift of some pretty singing-girl to the
hotel. Thereafter, as it has become much too late to visit the Guji, I
send to his residence by a messenger my letter of introduction, with an
humble request in Akira's handwriting, that I may be allowed to present
myself at the house before noon the next day.
Then the landlord of the hotel, who seems to be a very kindly person,
comes to us with lighted paper lanterns, and invites us to accompany him
to the Oho-yashiro.
Most of the houses have already closed their wooden sliding doors
for the night, so that the streets are dark, and the lanterns of our
landlord indispensable; for there is no moon, and the night is starless.
We walk along the main street for a distance of about six squares, and
then, making a turn, find ourselves before a superb bronze torii, the
gateway to the great temple avenue.