Part 3

“Twenty days’ journey,” he made answer, being a rude fellow and unkind. He wished to annoy her, for he knew well it was not so far.

[Illustration: “I WILL HERE MAKE MY OFFERING”]

“Alas!” she sighed. “I shall never reach that sacred shrine! How then shall my dear husband be brought back to me! Surely the gods will hear the prayer of a faithful wife, no matter where she may be. I will here make my offering and my prayers, and the Eternal Kindness will hear.”

Then she hung some coins upon a pine tree, and prayed earnestly that the gods would bless her husband and take her to him.

The farmer heard her, but his heart was still hard, and when she went aside to rest he tried to steal the money from the tree. But the gods had heard her prayer, and the tree suddenly turned into a two-headed serpent which spit fire at the thief’s approach. The farmer was so terribly frightened, that he repented that he had been so unkind; and he took the woman by the hand and led her in safety to the shrine she sought.

Then were her prayers answered, for the gods softened the heart of the Mikado, and when one told him of the devotion of this good wife, he sent for her to come to his throne.

“So faithful a woman should have a reward,” he said. “What will you that I bestow upon you?”

“The return of my husband, Most Revered One,” she answered; and straightway he sent word to Ononatakamura to come back from exile.

Of the pine tree upon which the money had been hung they made a shrine. Whoever was ill of any complaint, and prayed there, was made well; and whoever besought there any favor of the gods was sure to receive it in abundance. And from that time the place was called the “Shrine of the Hang-the-Money-Up Tree.”

THE GODDESS OF GREEN-GROWING THINGS

Amaterasu, the sun goddess, loved the earth. So long had she shone upon it with her gracious light that it was to her as a beloved child and she wished for it all good things. When she found growing from the body of Ukimochi, whom Susanoo had slain in wrath, a mulberry tree, and also a silkworm, rice grains, barley and beans she said to herself,

“Behold, the gods make good to grow out of evil. From death comes life. The slaying of Ukimochi was a deed of wrath, yet from it will come peace to the people of the earth.”

She made barley and beans the seeds of dry places, and rice the seeds of moor and fen. Mulberry trees she planted upon the hillsides, and upon these she reared silkworms so that the art of silk-weaving might begin.

Having thus given to the world things of such usefulness and beauty, the sun goddess desired to have them cared for. So she commanded Susanoo to send to earth his daughter, Mihashirano. He obeyed and the daughter came down from heaven. But she could find no place to live, and therefore wandered for a long time to and fro in Nippon.

One day a fisherman named Sakino, who lived at Itsuku, one of the isles of the sea, was casting his nets near Okanoshima. As he fished he saw a curious boat with a bright red sail coming towards him. There seemed something strange about the boat; and Sakino waited until it sailed close to him. Then he beheld upon it the goddess Mihashirano, who spoke to him.

“Sakino,” she said, “long have I passed to and fro in the Isles of Many Blades, and watched by field and moor and hillside to see the life-giving seeds which Amaterasu bestowed upon you. Well nourished have they been and watched so that you have had much rice and barley. Now, wherefore have I not a shrine built in my honor, where men may come to bring thanks, and where I may dwell in peace?

“Go thou to the Mikado and request that he build for me a temple at Miyajima; then will I protect the Mikado’s land forever and ever.”

Sakino hastened to Kioto and revealed all this to the Mikado. At that time there was a great famine in the far provinces of Nippon, and the Mikado said, “The goddess is displeased with us, and so this famine has come upon my people. Hasten your return to Itsuku and build there a temple to do her honor. Here is much treasure; go quickly and build.”

[Illustration: “IT FLEW AHEAD OF SAKINO’S BOAT”]

Sakino was delighted with this task, and he hurried homeward as fast as he was able. He could not at first decide which would be the best place for the temple, so he sailed around the islands seeking the loveliest spot. Then as he sailed a strange thing chanced; for from the very top of the mountain flew a huge bird, and it flew ahead of Sakino’s boat all the way. This he took as an omen, and he followed the bird closely until it stopped and hovered over a wooded hillside.

“Here we shall build the temple of Mihashiranohime-o-kami, the gentle goddess of the earth’s fruitfulness. We shall raise a temple to do her honor,” he cried. “The torii shall rise up out of the sea; the light-bearing pillars shall guard the entrance, and men shall come from far and near to see the shrine. Then shall they see how the Goddess of Green-growing Things is honored in the Land of Many Blades.”

This he did and the goddess dwelt happily in her abode, and there was no more famine in the land; for the shrine of the Goddess of Green-growing Things is to this very day honored in the isles of Nippon.

THE KNIGHTLY WASTE-PAPER MAN

I

There was once a young noble who was very poor. He was a Samurai who had offended his lord and so was obliged to leave his own province and travel in search of employment. It was very hard for him to find anything to do, for neither he nor his fair young wife had been taught to work.

“Alas! my bride! White as the lily art thou and tender as the carnation,--to what has thy love for me brought thee!” he cried.

But Tsuiu caressed him sweetly and said, “I am happy since my lord has taken me with him. The good-luck god will surely hear our prayers and we shall find a fortunate issue.”

Then was the soul of Shindo lightened and he strode along the highway gladly, and Tsuiu walked beside him, and the breath of the morning was sweet and kind. They walked for many hours and found no rest; but the music of the grass-larks was sweet and the sun was bright.

But when the shadows began to fall, and the fireflies to flit among the tall grasses, and the moon to creep slowly above the crest of the mountains, the little wife drew closer to Shindo San; for in her terror she saw robbers in every tree and bush.

“Be not afraid, my beloved,” he said, as he drew her within his sheltering arms. “See! here is a pleasant knoll beneath this sendai tree. Wrap yourself in my mantle. Pillow your head upon my arm. Then may the god of dreams send you a good-luck dream and may your slumber be sweet. I will watch!”

“I will obey, my lord,” said Tsuiu. She closed her eyes, and, holding the left sleeve of her kimono across her face, she was soon fast asleep.

Shindo watched and waited, his hand upon his sword; but he too was weary, and soon his eyes closed and his head drooped. He slept and dreamed that two huge dragons came out of the West and sought to devour them; and lo! as he cried aloud in terror for the safety of Tsuiu San, a greater Dragon came out of the East and devoured the first two, and he and his bride escaped.

Then he awoke suddenly and sprang to his feet, putting O Tsuiu San behind him, for robbers were upon him, and there were two. He drew his sword and fought fiercely, but they well-nigh overpowered him. He felt his strength fail. The blood was gushing from a wound in his arm. Suddenly there appeared upon the scene a ronin who quickly put to flight the robbers and saved the life of Shindo.

Then he and O Tsuiu San thanked the ronin very heartily, and finding the morning dawn at hand, and hearing the morning bell from a distant temple, they started on their way.

“Tell me first, whence you come and whither you go,” said the ronin. “For I well see that you are of better times, and that misfortune has brought you here.”

“We are in dire distress,” said the Samurai, “and I have scarce a _yen_[8] to buy rice for the breakfast of my wife.” Then he told all their story to the ronin, who, being of a good heart, was grieved at their sorrows.

“It is little that I can do for you myself,” he said, “since I am but a wanderer with nothing in my sleeves. But come with me and I will set you in the way of making a good but simple friend. Yonder are the towers and temples of Yedo,” and he pointed to the roofs of a city gleaming gold in the morning sun. “In a certain street lives a tradesman, a poor fellow, yet of a good heart. He bears the name of Chohachi. Seek him and tell him I commend you to his kindness. My road lies elsewhere. _Sayonara!_”[9]

Bidding good-by to the ronin, the two hurried on and finding Chohachi, he took them in and made them welcome. There they remained several days until O Tsuiu San recovered from her fatigue, and Shindo from his wound. Then Chohachi spoke.

“Honored One,” he said, “very welcome are you and yours to the shelter of our roof tree, but the rice pot holds not enough for four. Is there any way in which you are able to make the pot boil?”

“Good friend,” replied Shindo, “in the house of my fathers the rice pot ever boiled without assistance from me. I know no way.”

Chohachi knit his brows.

“Can the Honorable One teach the young men to fence?”

“Alas,” cried Shindo. “I have little skill as a swordsman. I fear I know not enough to teach fencing.”

“Can the Honorable One teach writing?” demanded Chohachi.

“Of that I know even less,” replied his guest, so mournfully that Chohachi hastened to reassure him. “Some way shall be found to boil the pot even if we have to hunt the magic paddle of the Oni.”

So the tradesman thought and thought.

“What can this dear fellow do?” he asked himself.

“It must be something of the easiest for he seems not to have much thought for trading. I have it! He shall be a waste-paper man! A boy or a simpleton could do that!”

So he purchased a light pole of bamboo with two baskets at the end, and a pair of bamboo sticks. He called the Samurai “Chobei,” for Shindo was too fine a name for a waste-paper man, and the Samurai was started in business.

The first day Chobei lost himself, and had to pay a man to guide him home. He had bought no waste paper and Chohachi laughed at him, and scolded, too, saying,

“Call out! No one will know what you want if you walk about the streets in silence like a monk!”

Chobei was anxious to do all things right, for it pained him to be depending upon the good trader, and it hurt him still more to think of little O Tsuiu San sitting all day over her embroidery, trying to earn a few coins with which to boil the pot.

So, in order to grow used to the sound of his own voice, he went to an open lot, where there was not a house in sight, and shouted, “Waste paper! waste paper!” all day until he was hoarse. The street boys thought he was mad, and they laughed at him and threw stones. Then he went home more discouraged than ever, and Chohachi, choked with laughter, explained again patiently,

“See, good Samurai, go into the back streets; rich people do not sell waste papers. Talk with the women, engage them with pleasant words and flattery, and then say, ‘Perhaps you have some waste paper to sell.’”

[Illustration: “CHOBEI WENT FORTH TO TRY AGAIN”]

So Chobei went forth to try again, and this time he sought in the poorer streets. There young women were washing upon the steps, children were playing upon the pavement, old women were talking in the doorways, and to them all Chobei smiled and bowed, “May the sun goddess smile upon you, honorable august Madame,” he would say with his most courtly air. “That you and your honorable family are in good health is my wish. It gives me pleasure to meet you. I am from a far street and I ask the honor of your acquaintance. Have you any waste paper to sell?”

Although the good women understood, he might have left unsaid all his remarks except the last. But they were pleased with his air, and they ransacked their houses for waste paper. They called him the “Knightly Waste-paper Man,” and soon he had a very good trade and earned many _yen_, which Chohachi helped him carefully to spend. Then O Tsuiu San and the little daughter whom the gods sent to them, were well cared for.

II

One day the Knightly Waste-paper Man was crying his wares through the streets when he saw a crowd about a man who had fallen by the way.

“’Tis but a starving beggar,” said one. But Chobei had learned much in the days when he had walked the streets without a _sen_[10] in his sleeves, and his heart was tender. He hurried to the beggar’s aid and to his surprise found that he was no other than Bun-yemon, the ronin who had helped him to escape from his home, when his lord was angry so long ago. He caused him to be taken up and carried home.

That night Chobei talked long with Tsuiu.

“Gratitude is a sacred duty,” he said. “But for this ronin perhaps we should have been murdered, and now that he has reached this low estate, it is our place to help him, but how?” O Tsuiu San sighed.

“In all these years, my lord,” she said, “we have lived by the favor of the gods, but we have saved nothing. How much should we give Bun-yemon?”

“Not less than twenty-five gold _rio_,[11]” said Chobei. “It is a fortune! There is but one way in which we might obtain it. We might sell Iroka.”

“Sell my daughter!” cried Tsuiu. “My lord, my lord!” and she wept bitterly. Chobei wept also, but at last he said,

“It is terrible for me as well as for you, but do you not see that there is no other way?”

“There is no other way,” said Tsuiu, to whom the will of her lord was law.

Then they told Iroka all the story and she said,

“Honorable parents, there is no other way. Permit me to be sold, for it is an honor for me to become a geisha for the debt of my parents.”

Therefore, with many tears, they sold Iroka and, as she was very pretty, they obtained for her the sum of five and twenty gold _rio_.

This Chobei bore to Bun-yemon who refused to take it; but Chobei, pretending to restore it to his own pocket, slipped it into a lacquered box and departed. After he was gone, the wife of Bun-yemon found the money, and her husband was very angry with her, that she had not watched more carefully.

“This good fellow should never have given me the money,” he said. “He is poor--only a waste-paper man. I will not take it for anything. You must carry it back.”

“But I know not where he lives,” said the wife. “And since you have the money, let me go to the pawnshop and redeem your jeweled sword, that we may sell the sword for a larger sum. Then we can pay back Chobei and still have something for ourselves.”

After much coaxing Bun-yemon at last consented to do this and redeemed the sword. But the pawnbroker’s clerk was angry, for he had expected to own the sword for the small sum which had been lent Bun-yemon. So he accused Bun-yemon of stealing the money and officers came and carried him to prison, setting a watch upon his wife.

She, however, determined to free her husband. The Machi-Bugyo of Yedo was the most righteous of judges and she went straight to him, escaping from the watchful eye of the officers when there was a fire in the neighborhood and every one was much excited. She found the Machi-Bugyo, as he was riding to inspect the firemen, and she knelt in the dust, catching hold of his bridle rein.

“Most noble Machi-Bugyo,” she cried. “Honorably deign to listen. They have taken my husband from me, and they accuse him unjustly. You, who are the friend of the poor, save him!”

The Lord of the city listened, and, being of a good heart, he had compassion upon the wife of Bun-yemon. He ordered the clerk of the pawnbroker to appear before him, and also Bun-yemon. And Chobei, hearing of the trouble, appeared and told that he had given the twenty-five gold _rio_. Bun-yemon was therefore cleared from the charge of theft.

“Go in peace,” said the Machi-Bugyo to him. “The master of the evil clerk shall pay a fine of one hundred gold _rio_, because a master should have only honest servants. The wicked clerk shall be put to death, for he witnessed falsely against an innocent man. The gold shall be given to Bun-yemon who must, with twenty-five _rio_, redeem the daughter of Chobei.

“As for you, Chobei, you have done well in paying your debt of gratitude at so great a cost to yourself; and your daughter is to be commended for her obedience. Take this reward for you both,” and he gave him a hundred _yen_. “Be dismissed, for I have spoken.”

Then were all happy, for Iroka was returned to her parents and Chobei’s friend, Chohachi, was rewarded for his kindness of heart.

The whole matter soon coming to the ears of the Shogun, he commanded the old lord of Chobei to forgive him and restore him to his home. Then was Chobei, whom men again called Shindo, very happy, and he no longer cried “Waste Paper!” through the back streets of Yedo. But there he is not forgotten, for when the women gather to gossip they speak of him with smiles, saying ever of him, “Isuzure wo kite mo kokoro wa nishiki (coat of rags, heart of brocade).”

FOOTNOTES:

[8] Japanese coin equivalent to our dollar.

[9] Good-by.

[10] A Japanese coin equivalent to our cent.

[11] A Japanese ounce.

THE HUNTER AND THE PRIEST

There was once a hunter who dwelt in the village of Kyoto and sought his game upon the mountain of Atagoyama. He was proud of being so mighty a hunter, for he never came empty-handed from the forest; yet at times he felt ill at ease. This was because he made a daily business of killing, and so he was displeasing to the Buddha.[12]

To set his conscience at rest, therefore, he often made offerings of rice and fruit to a certain holy priest who dwelt in a little shrine upon the mountain-side.

The priest was very good. Studying the sacred books he dwelt in the solitude of the forest. He was so far from the homes of men that he would have fared ill had it not been for the visits of the hunter who brought to him supplies of things to eat.

One day the hunter came to the temple.

“Honorable one,” he said politely, “I have brought you a bag of rice. May each grain be a prayer for me.”

“Good friend,” said the priest, “I thank you, and in return I will show you a miracle. For many years I have read and studied and reflected upon the Holy Books and it may be that I am receiving my reward. Know then, that each night the Buddha comes to me, here at the temple, riding upon an elephant. Do you not believe? Then tarry and see.”

[Illustration: “I WILL SHOW YOU A MIRACLE”]

Speaking respectfully to the priest, the hunter said, “I long to see this wonderful thing.” But in his heart he said to himself, “This thing can not be true.”

Then he turned to the little temple boy and asked, “Have you seen this marvel?”

“Six times I have seen Fugen Bosatsu and fallen before him,” said the boy; and the hunter marveled again.

Dark and silent was the night, save for the wind spirit who swept through the trees, now whispering softly, now moaning as if in pain. Behind the clouds the moon hid herself, throwing now and again fitful gleams across the little shrine at the door of which knelt the priest and his acolyte. Behind them stood the hunter, his heart filled with unbelief. No word was spoken and only a quick indrawing of the hunter’s breath betokened his amazement as the vision came.

In the east arose a star, which grew and grew until the whole mountain-side seemed light; and then there appeared a snow-white elephant with six huge tusks. Upon his back was a rider, and as the figures neared the temple, the priest and the temple boy threw themselves upon the ground, praying aloud to the Fugen Bosatsu.

But the hunter had no prayer within his soul. This thing seemed to him not holy but accursed, and, springing in front of the priest, he set a shaft, drew his bow to the full, and sent his arrow straight to the heart of the Buddha. Straight to the heart it went, clear to the feathers of the shaft, and lo! a terrible cry rent the air. No longer was there white light over the mountain. All was darkness.

“Demon in human form!” cried the priest. “Is it not enough that you spend your vile life destroying God’s creatures upon the earth? To this sin, must you add that of destroying Buddha himself?”

“Not so,” replied the hunter. “Be not so rash. Judgment of others is far too great a sin for one so holy as yourself. Listen, and I will explain what I have done. I have not destroyed the Buddha. You have been deceived. Do you think it is possible that I could see Fugen Bosatsu? I am a mighty hunter, stained with the blood of living creatures. This is displeasing to the Buddha. Now then, would he reveal himself to me? The boy too is but a lad, and why should he see holy visions? You think because you have read and studied much, and because you are of a pure life and a truthful tongue that the Buddha desires to do you honor and reveal to you Fugen Bosatsu. No, good sir, for were this true, you alone could see the vision and it would not be vouchsafed to two sinful ones beside.

“Indeed, you saw not Fugen Bosatsu, but something deceiving and false; and when the morning comes I will prove to you that I speak the truth.”