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Every evening she lingers on his summit, and when at last she leaves him, his lofty crest is bathed in soft purple light. In the evening the Matchless Mountain seems to rise higher and higher into the skies, until no mortal can tell the place of his rest. Golden clouds enfold Fuji-yama in the early morning.
One morning, when the heavy mists of the valley lay in masses of pink against the deeper purple of the mountain, and his Highness, the sun, his face flushed from his long climb, was sending his first glances over the sunny peaks of Fuji-yama, Yuki San arose, after a sleepless night, and faced the morning with sorrowful eyes.
Cognate instances might be multiplied. In the year 1193, the first case of the vendetta occurred in Japan. Yoritomo organized a grand hunting party on the moors at the southern base of Fuji-yama. Among those that accompanied him was Kudo Suketsune, who had done to death Soga no Sukeyasu. The elder was killed in the enterprise; the younger, captured and beheaded.
And so I offer you the same footing that I do your nephew good wages, good fare, and an opportunity to see the world." No answer whatever. "Do you remember the Bay of Naples, at sunset, as we saw it when we first steamed in on the old City of Berlin, Helena?" No answer. "And do you recall Fuji-yama, with the white top remember the rickshaw rides together, Helena?" No answer.
Having said so much by way of preface, I beg my readers to fancy themselves wafted away to the shores of the Bay of Yedo a fair, smiling landscape: gentle slopes, crested by a dark fringe of pines and firs, lead down to the sea; the quaint eaves of many a temple and holy shrine peep out here and there from the groves; the bay itself is studded with picturesque fisher-craft, the torches of which shine by night like glow-worms among the outlying forts; far away to the west loom the goblin-haunted heights of Oyama, and beyond the twin hills of the Hakoné Pass Fuji-Yama, the Peerless Mountain, solitary and grand, stands in the centre of the plain, from which it sprang vomiting flames twenty-one centuries ago.
It is related that timbers of sufficient scantling could not be found anywhere except in the forests at the base of Fuji-yama, and Ieyasu employed fifty thousand labourers at a cost of a one thousand ryo in gold, for the purpose of felling the trees and transporting them to Kyoto. The operations furnished evidence of the curiously arbitrary methods practised officially in that age.
The few remaining years of Tsunu's life were spent as a pious pilgrim to Fuji-yama, his well-loved mountain. Since his death he has been honored as a saint who brings prosperity to the people of his native country. Shokujo, daughter of the Sun, dwelt with her father on the banks of the Silver River of Heaven, which we call the Milky Way.
It had sprung up in a single night, while they slept. Flames and huge stones were hurled from its summit; the peasants feared that the demons from the under-world had come to wreak vengeance upon them. But for many generations there have been peace and silence on the heights. The good Sun-Goddess loves Fuji-yama.
Summoning the winds to its aid, it puts out the lights, and disappears. The Suit of Feathers is the title of a very pretty conceit which followed. A fisherman enters, and in a long recitative describes the scenery at the sea-shore of Miwo, in the province of Suruga, at the foot of Fuji-Yama, the Peerless Mountain.
In the morning every mountain had disappeared; not one of the hills that they loved was to be seen. A blue lake lay before them. It was none other than the lute-shaped Lake Biwa. The mountains had, in truth, traveled under the earth for more than a hundred miles, and now form the sacred Fuji-yama. As Tsunu stepped out of his hut in the morning, his eyes sought the Mountain of the Gods.
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