Noto, An Unexplored Corner of Japan | Page 5

special qualification much increased his charm as a
fellow-traveler. He neither spoke nor understood English, of course,
and surprised me, after surprising himself, on the last day but one of
our trip, by coming out with the words "all right." His surname,
appropriately enough, meant mountain-rice-field, and his last name
--which we should call his first name--was Yejiro, or
lucky-younger-son. Besides cooking excellently well, he made paper
plum blossoms beautifully, and once constructed a string telephone out
of his own head. I mention these samples of accomplishment to show
that he was no mere dabbler in pots and pans.
In addition to his various culinary contrivances we took a large and
motley stock of canned food, some of his own home-made bread, and a
bottle of whiskey. We laid in but a small supply of beer; not that I
purposed to forego that agreeable beverage, but because, in this
Europeanized age, it can be got in all the larger towns. Indeed, the beer
brewed in Yokohama to-day ranks with the best in the world. It is in
great demand in Tokyo, while its imported, or professedly imported,
rivals have freely percolated into the interior, so popular with the upper
and upper middle classes have malt liquors become. Nowadays, when a
Japanese thinks to go in for Capuan dissipation regardless of expense,
he treats himself to a bottle of beer.
These larder-like details are not meant to imply that I made a god of my
palate, but that otherwise my digestion would have played the devil
with me. In Japan, to attempt to live off the country in the country is a
piece of amateur acting the average European bitterly regrets after the
play, if not during its performance. We are not inwardly contrived to
thrive solely on rice and pickles.
It is best, too, for a journey into the interior, to take with you your own
bedding; sheets, that is, and blankets. The bed itself Yejiro easily
improvised out of innumerable futons, as the quilts used at night by the

Japanese are called. A single one is enough for a native, but Yejiro,
with praiseworthy zeal, made a practice of asking for half-a-dozen,
which he piled one upon the other in the middle of the room. Each had
a perceptible thickness and a rounded loglike edge; and when the time
came for turning in on top of the lot, I was always reminded of the
latter end of a Grecian hero, the structure looked so like a funeral pyre.
When to the above indispensables were added clothes, camera, dry
plates, books, and sundries, it made a collection of household gods
quite appalling to consider on the march. I had no idea I owned half so
much in the world from which it would pain me to be parted. As my
property lay spread out for packing, I stared at it aghast.
To transport all these belongings, native ingenuity suggested a thing
called a yanagigori; several of them, in fact. Now the construction of a
kori is elementally ingenious. It consists simply of two wicker baskets,
of the same shape, but of slightly different size, fitting into each other
upside down. The two are then tied together with cord. The beauty of
the idea lies in its extension; for in proportion as the two covers are
pulled out or pushed home will the pair hold from a maximum capacity
of both to a minimum capacity of one. It is possible even to start with
more than a maximum, if the contents be such as are not given to
falling out by the way. The contrivance is simply invaluable when it
comes to transporting food; for then, as you eat your way down, the
obliging covers shrink to meet the vacuum. If more than one kori be
necessary, an easy step in devices leads to a series of graded sizes.
Then all your baskets eventually collapse into one.
The last but most important article of all was my passport, which
carefully described my proposed route, and which Yejiro at once took
charge of and carried about with him for immediate service; for a wise
paternal government insisted upon knowing my intentions before
permitting me to visit the object of my choice.

II.
Off and On.
It was on the day but one before the festival of the fifth moon that we
set out, or, in English, the third of May; and those emblems of good
luck, the festival fishes, were already swimming in the air above the
house eaves, as we scurried through the streets in jinrikisha toward the

Uyeno railway station. We had been a little behindhand in starting, but
by extra exertions on the part of the runners we succeeded in reaching
the station just in time to be shut out