AT KAMAKURA
Nan found her sister waiting for her; the others had gone to their
rooms. "Well," exclaimed Mary Lee, "you did take your time. What became
of you? We never once caught a glimpse of you after we reached the
grounds."
"We went to see the flowers the first thing, and that occupied some
time. Where were you?"
"Oh, we started off in exactly the opposite direction, so no wonder we
missed one another. What did you think of it, Nan?"
"It was most interesting."
"I thought the crowds were quite as fascinating as the show. Did you
ever see so many little children and so many poor little youngsters
with babies on their backs? They seemed perfectly content and happy,
both babies and their carriers, but it was funny to see the babies'
heads bob around with no one to mind in the least. The little girls
never appear to be aware that the babies are there; they go skipping
or bobbing or playing while the babies are like great big bundles and
nothing more."
Nan told her experience with one little girl and baby, Mary Lee
listening attentively. "Well, you did make more of your opportunities
than we did," she admitted regretfully.
"I think it was partly because I had so good a companion," returned
Nan. "I thought at first that I should like Mr. Montell better than Mr.
Harding, but I have changed my mind."
"Mr. Montell is much better looking."
"Yes, and an interesting talker, but once you know Mr. Harding you
find that there is really more to him. You know what a dear child Nell
always was, so sympathetic and genuine; I fancy her brother is much the
same."
Mary Lee laughed. "Take care, Nan. You are such an enthusiastic old
dear that you will be investing the young man with all sorts of
beautiful characteristics he doesn't possess, once you get your vivid
imagination into real good working order."
Nan smiled. "Oh, I am perfectly sound and whole so far, though one
never can tell where lightning will strike. You may fall a victim
yourself."
Mary Lee looked grave and then she said in a low tone, "You know
it would be impossible, Nan. You must leave me out of all such
conjectures. There was never any one but Phil and there never will be."
Nan gave her sister a compassionate hug, and realized that Mary Lee's
devotion to the young cousin who had died was not a mere matter of
months, but that it was a thing of years if not of a lifetime. She
changed the subject. "Did you see Aunt Helen when you all came in? Did
she say what we were to do to-morrow?"
"Both she and Mrs. Craig were up," Mary Lee told her, "and they have
arranged for a trip to Kamakura, they told me."
"Where that huge statue of Buddha is, the one that is called the Dai
Butsu? I am glad we are going there. How many are going? All of us?"
"Yes, and Mr. Montell; he has promised to take his camera, so we can
have some pictures to send home."
Nan was thoughtful for a moment. "I don't believe Mr. Harding can go,
for he said something about being on duty to-morrow morning. We shall
have to leave him behind."
"And you will be sorry?"
"I certainly shall. One man doesn't go around when there are three
girls."
Mary Lee laughed, and the two settled themselves for the night.
The party that started for Kamakura the next morning did not consist
however of five women and one man, for Colonel Craig joined them and
proved to be a most acceptable addition, a fine soldierly, courteous
man who was a mine of information. The journey, to what was once a
city of a million souls, was made by train, but was continued by
_jinrikisha_ to the great image which was the special object to be
visited.
"Isn't it a queer little train?" said Eleanor as she seated herself.
"It reminds me of those in Italy," returned Nan; "they always seemed
such harmless well-meaning little things that wouldn't hurt you for
the world. Do see that picturesque little village, Eleanor. Isn't
it just like the pictures with the straw-thatched houses? Those are
rice-fields, of course, there where the people are wading. Such a
horrid sloppy way of getting a crop. I should think they would hate it,
but I suppose the 'honorable rice' is too precious a product for them
to consider the manner of its growing or harvesting; the main thing is
to get it any old way."
"Aren't those wonderful groves of trees?" returned Eleanor, observing
on her part. "There are mountains, Nan, beautiful purple mountains, but
it is rather sombre scenery, don't you think?"
Here Mr. Montell came over to speak to them. "You mustn't expect to see
a glorious city," he told them, "for it has suffered from terrible
fires and from a great tidal wave which destroyed most of the many
temples. There are still some left, nevertheless, and these we shall
see."
In spite of this warning it was a surprise to the girls to behold
a queer little village wandering between hills and showing a canal
worming its way through it. The houses were very old, straw-thatched
and gray, with strange grasses, and even flowers, growing on their
ancient roofs.
Nan caught her breath. "How desolate!" she gasped. "Could one ever
imagine this was once a busy, restless city with magnificent buildings,
temples and wonders of all kinds?"
"Some of the wonders still remain, as you will see," said Colonel Craig
as he helped her into a _jinrikisha_. "When you have seen the Dai Butsu
you will acknowledge that even a Japanese fishing village retains some
of its ancient glory."
They bobbed along behind the huge spreading hats of the runners and
presently entered a long avenue of trees to go through a temple gateway
and a long courtyard.
Suddenly the runners stopped, and the visitors, looking up, saw
the huge statue before them. One after another alighted from the
_jinrikishas_ and gathered around Mr. Montell and Colonel Craig.
"Isn't he enormous?" cried Mary Lee looking up at the colossal figure
seated in a lotus flower.
"He is nearly fifty feet high," said the colonel.
"And he isn't in a temple, but just in plain out-of-doors," remarked
Eleanor.
"There was a temple once," her uncle told her. "You can see some of the
bases of its sixty-three pillars if you look for them. The great tidal
wave destroyed it, and the surrounding buildings, away back in the
fifteenth century. So far as we know the statue was cast about 1252. It
is made of bronze. The eyes are four feet long and the distance across
the lap from one knee to the other is thirty-five feet, so now you can
get some idea of his bigness."
They all stood in silence looking up at the renowned figure with a
real reverence. Nan slipped her hand into her Aunt Helen's. "I love
his gentle smile," she whispered. "How placid he looks after all the
great convulsions of nature, the ravages of time and all the desolating
things that have happened around him."
Her aunt responded with a little pressure of the hand. "He is a
lesson, dear, to all of us. Did the colonel read you the inscription
at the gateway? I have written it down." She read from her note-book:
"O stranger, whosoever thou art, and whatsoever be thy creed, when
thou enterest this sanctuary remember that thou treadest upon ground
hallowed by the worship of ages. This is the temple of Buddha and the
gate of the Eternal, and should therefore be entered with reverence."
"Could any one feel anything else but reverence?" returned Nan. "And
not only reverence but a real awe and certainly a great admiration."
"Shall we go inside?" asked Mr. Montell who had been busy with his
camera and who now came up. "You know there is a small opening in the
side of the big lotus-blossom on which Buddha is sitting. There is a
shrine to Kwannon inside and if you care to climb up a ladder you can
go as far as the shoulders and have a peep at the grounds."
Nan shook her head. "No, let those who are not impressed as I am
descend to such things; I don't want to remember that I climbed to his
shoulders; I only want to remember his kind smile and his half-shut
eyes. It is the most wonderful thing I have seen in Japan except
Fujiyama."
"Harding ought to be here," laughed Mr. Montell. "He feels just as you
do about the Dai Butsu."
Allowing the others to penetrate to the interior of the statue,
Nan seated herself at some distance and gave herself up to a
contemplation of Buddha. She was rather glad to be alone for she was an
impressionable young person and a dreamer of dreams. For some time she
sat lost in her thoughts, and carried back, back how many centuries.
All sorts of strange fancies possessed her, and at last she could
scarce have told where she was.
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.
[Illustration: CHAPTER VII
A FEAST OF BLOSSOMS]