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This gentleman was peculiarly fortunate to recall Fujisan, and the orange orchards and the girl." "I believe you are right. One life is about enough for most of us. Memory is all very fine; but you'd want a life set apart for remembering the others after awhile." "Why do you not add, 'And that would bore one? Most of the men I know would say so." "Well, I never used the word that way in my life.
Reflected, too, were the serrated ridges of Awa's and Kasusa's mountain-peaks and their ravines, dark and mysterious, with little villages of grey huts surmounted by high-pitched roofs of thatch clustering here and there along the beach to starboard, while, to port, dominating all else, towered high in air the majestic, snow-crowned peak of Fujisan, its summit blushing a delicate rosy pink in the first light of dawn.
A familiar figure along the Japanese highways and byways is that of the pilgrim going to see some famous shrine, or, most often of all, marching towards Fujisan, the sacred mountain. The Fuji pilgrim may be known by his garb. He is dressed in white, with white kimono, white socks and gaiters, and straw sandals.
S.S. "VOLGA," CHINA SEA, Christmas Eve, 1878. The snowy dome of Fujisan, reddening in the sunrise, rose above the violet woodlands of Mississippi Bay as we steamed out of Yokohama harbor on the 19th, and three days later I saw the last of Japan a rugged coast, lashed by a wintry sea. THE PALACE, VICTORIA, HONG KONG, December 27. Of the voyage to Hong Kong little need be said.
Its name is Fujisan, or Fusi-Yama, and it stands near the sea and the capital city of Tokyo. It is of most beautiful shape, an almost perfect cone, and it springs nearly 13,000 feet into the air. From the sea it forms a most superb and majestic sight.
Although the speed of the train was nothing to boast of, I found the journey interesting, for the scenery, with its little grey villages of thatched, wooden houses, and the temples with their quaintly shaped roofs on the one hand, and the sea on the other, with its islands, wooded gardens, and hundreds of fishing-boats, with Fujisan always dominating everything else, were all novelties to me.
On the morning of the day which witnessed my arrival in the Land of the Rising Sun, the berth-room steward who brought me my early cup of coffee informed me, with a broad grin of satisfaction, that we were in Sagami Bay; that it was a beautiful morning, but very cold; and that he would advise me to turn out at once if I desired to obtain the best possible view of Fujiyama, or Fujisan, as the Japanese love to call it.
As a child he has taken many a trip with his father and mother to admire the acres of plum or cherry blossom in a park or temple-garden; as a man he lays his work aside and goes to see the same spectacle with redoubled delight. "For his heart is in Japan, with its junks and Fujisan, And its tea-houses and temples, and the smiling rickshaw-man."
Every morning Mount Blanc sends a message to Pike's Peak, and it sends it on over the waters to Fujisan. The bosom of the earth thrills with nervous energy; the air is charged with electric force; the blue ether of the universe throbs with motion. Nature knows no environment; but man is fettered, a spirit in a cage, a mournful soul that seeks companionship in misery.
We have heard of Fujisan, the famous mountain; we have talked of tea-houses and temples; and now we must say something about the rickshaw-man or boy, a very important person indeed in Japan. He is not important because of riches or rank, for, as a rule, he is very poor and of the coolie order; he is important because he is so useful.
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