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Updated: June 21, 2025
Only the level blue of the flood under the hollow blue of the sky and, just beyond the promontory, one far, small white speck: the sail of a junk. The horizon is naked. Gone! but how soundlessly, how swiftly! She makes nineteen knots. And, oh! Koto-shiro-nushi-no-Kami, there probably existed eggs on board! KITZUKI, July 20, 1891. AKIRA is no longer with me.
'Ah! komban, Akira. 'To-night, says Akira, seating himself upon the floor in the posture of Buddha upon the Lotus, 'the Bon-ichi will be held. Perhaps you would like to see it? 'Oh, Akira, all things in this country I should like to see. But tell me, I pray you; unto what may the Bon-ichi be likened?
This, as translated by Akira, is the substance of the text of the paper numbered fifty-and-one: 'He who draweth forth this mikuji, let him live according to the heavenly law and worship Kwannon. If his trouble be a sickness, it shall pass from him. If he have lost aught, it shall be found. If he have a suit at law, he shall gain.
There is not a cloud in the blue not even one of those beautiful white filamentary things, like ghosts of silken floss, which usually swim in this most ethereal of earthly skies even in the driest weather. A sudden shadow at the door. Akira, the young Buddhist student, stands at the threshold slipping his white feet out of his sandal-thongs preparatory to entering, and smiling like the god Jizo.
The boy said to him, "I have been waiting for you" and the boy was Bimbogami. 'There was another priest who for sixty years had tried in vain to get rid of Bimbogami, and who resolved at last to go to a distant province. And the boy answered, "I am going to travel with you. I am Bimbogami." 'Then is there no way, Akira, by which Bimbogami may be driven away?
Akira leads the way in silence to where other steps descend into a darker and older part of the cemetery; and at the head of the steps, to the right, I see a group of colossal monuments, very tall, massive, mossed by time, with characters cut more than two inches deep into the grey rock of them.
'Yes, will you come to my room? asks Akira. 'It is not far in the Street of the Aged Men, beyond the Street of the Stony River, and near to the Street Everlasting. There is a butsuma there a household shrine -and on the way I will tell you about the Bonku. So, for the first time, I learn those things which I am now about to write.
'Mokugyo, says Akira. It is the same Buddhist emblem as that hollow wooden object, lacquered scarlet-and-gold, on which the priests beat with a padded mallet while chanting the Sutra. And, finally, in one place I perceive a pair of sitting animals, of some mythological species, supple of figure as greyhounds.
She talks and laughs with Akira; she prepares the tea, pours it out in tiny cups and serves it to us, kneeling in that graceful attitude picturesque, traditional which for six hundred years has been the attitude of the Japanese woman serving tea. Verily, no small part of the life of the woman of Japan is spent thus in serving little cups of tea.
The little temple beyond contains no celebrated image, but a shari only, or relic of Buddha, brought from India. And I cannot see it, having no time to wait until the absent keeper of the shari can be found. 'Now we shall go to look at the big bell, says Akira.
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