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The new road is not without its sensation to such as dislike looking
down。 Fortunately； the jinrikisha men have not the instinct of
packmules to be persistently trifling with its outer edge。
In addition to the void at the side； another showed every now and then
in front； where a dip and a turn completely hid the road beyond。
The veritable end of the world seemed to be there just ahead； close
against the vacancy of space。 A couple of rods more and we must step
offindeed the end of the world for us if we had。
When the road came to face the Oya shiradzu； ko shiradzu； it attacked
the rise by first running away from it up a stream into the mountains；
a bit of the wisdom of the serpent that enabled it to gain much
height on the bend back。 Trees vaulted the way tapestrying it with
their leaves； between which one caught peeps at the sea； a shimmer of
blue through a shimmer of green。 The path was strung with pedlars
and pilgrims； the latter of both sexes and all ages； under mushroom
hats with their skirts neatly tucked in at the waist； showing their
leggings； the former doing fulcrum duty to a couple of baskets swung
on a pole over their shoulders。 The pilgrims were on their way back
from Zenkoji。 Some of them would have tramped over two hundred miles
on foot before they reached home again。 A rich harvest they brought
back； religion； travel； and exercise all in one； enough to keep them
happy long。 I know of nothing which would more persuade me to be a
Buddhist than these same delightful pilgrimages。 Fresh air； fresh
scenes on the road； and fresh faith at the end of it。 No desert
caravan of penance to these Meccas； but a summer's stroll under a
summer's sky。 An end that sanctifies the means and a means that no
less justifies its end。
While we were still in the way with these pious folk we touched our
midday halt； a wayside teahouse notched in a corner of the road
commanding a panoramic view over the sea。 The place was kept by a
deaf old lady and her tailless cat。 The old lady's peculiarity was
personal； the cat's was not。 No self…respecting cat in this part of
Japan could possibly wear a tail。 The northern branch of the family
has long since discarded that really useless feline appendage。 A dog
in like circumstance would be sadly straitened in the expression of
his emotions； but a cat is every whit a cat without a continuation。
With the deaf old lady we had； for obvious reasons； no sustained
conversation。 She busied herself for the most part in making dango；
a kind of dumpling； but not one calculated to stir curiosity； since
it is made of rice all through。 These our men ate with more relish
than would seem possible。 Meanwhile I sat away from the road where I
could look out upon the sea over the cliffs； and the cat purred about
in her offhand way and used me incidentally as a rubbing post。 Trees
fringed the picture in front； and the ribbon of road wound off through
it into the distance； beaded with folk； and shot with sunshine and
shadow。
I was sorry when lunch was over and we took leave of our gentle
hostesses； tabbies both of them； yet no unpleasing pair。 A few more
bends brought us to where the path culminated。 The road had for some
time lain bare to the sea and sky； but at the supreme point some fine
beeches made a natural screen masking the naked face of the precipice。
On the cutting above； four huge Chinese characters stood graved in
the rock。
〃Ya no gotoku； to no gotoshi。〃
〃Smooth as a whetstone； straight as an arrow；〃 meaning the cliff。
Perhaps because of their pictorial descent； the characters did not
shock one。 Unlike the usual branding of nature； they seemed not out
of keeping with the spot。 Not far beyond； the butts of the winter's
neve； buried in dirt； banked the path。
For miles along the raod the view off was superb。 Nothing bordered
one side of the way and the mountain bordered the other。 Far below
lay the sea； stretching away into blue infinity； a vast semicircle of
ultramarine domed by a hemisphere of azure； and it was noticeable how
much vaster the sea looked than the sky。 We were so high above it that
the heavings of its longer swells were leveled to imperceptibility；
while the waves only graved the motionless surface。 Here and there
the rufflings of a breeze showed in darker markings； like the changes
on watered silk。 The most ephemeral disturbance made the most show。
Dotted over the blue expanse were black spots； fishing boats； and a
steamer with a long trail of smoke showed in the offing； stationary
to the eye； yet shifting its place like the shadow of a style when
you forgot to look。 And in long perspective on either hand stretched
the battlement of cliff。 Visual immensity lay there before us； in
each of its three manifestations； of line； of surface； and of space。
We stood still； the better to try to take it inthis grandeur
tempered by sunshine and warmth。 Do what he will； man is very much
the creature of his surroundings yet。 In some instant sense； the
eyes fashion the feelings； and we ourselves grow broader with our
horizon's breadth。 The Chaldean shepherds alone with the night had
grander thoughts for the companionship； and I venture to believe that
the heart of the mountaineer owes quite as much to what he is forced
to visage as to what he is compelled to do。
We tucked ourselves into our jinrikisha and started down。 By virtue
of going； the speed increased； till the way we rolled round the
curves was intoxicating。 The panorama below swung to match； and we
leaned in or out mechanically to trim the balance。 Occasionally； as
it hit some stone； the vehicle gave a lurch that startled us for a
moment into sobriety； from which we straightway relapsed into
exhilaration。 Curious this； how the body brings about its own
forgetting。 For I was conscious only of mind； and yet mind was the
one part of me not in motion。 I suppose much oxygen made me tipsy。
If so； it is a recommendable tipple。 Spirits were not unhappily
named after the natural article。
It was late afternoon when we issued at last from our two days
Thermopylae upon the Etchiu plain。 As we drew out into its expanse；
the giant peaks of the Tateyama range came into view from behind
their foothills； draped still in their winter ermine。 It was last
year yet in those upper regions of the world； but all about us below
throbbed with the heartbeats of the spring。 At each mile； amid the
ever lengthening shadows； nature seemed to grow more sentient。
Through the thick air the peaks stood out against the eastern sky； in
saffron that flushed to rose and then paled to gray。 The ricefields；
already flooded for their first working； mirrored the glow overhead
so glassily that their dykes seemed to float； in sunset illusion；
a mere bar tracery of earth between the sky above and a sky beneath。
Upon such lattice of a world we journeyed in mid…heaven。 Stealthily
the shadow