Part 5

Urashima at last said to the princess, “Beloved princess, I have spent these months of our life together in happiness so great that I would that it could last forever. I remember, however, my old home and the dear ones I left there. Give me leave, therefore, to return to earth for but a day, that I may see them once more. They know not where I am. They know nothing of my happiness. Let me go, and quickly I will return.”

“Alas, my beloved, you will never return,” she said. “Never more will your deep sea home see you again,--that my poor heart tells me. But if the yearning for home has seized you, I may not keep you here. Go, but take this with you,” and she handed him a casket made of a single pearl and set with a picture of the princess. “So long as you keep this unopened you may return; but open it, and you will never see me again. Farewell.”

So Urashima returned to earth bearing with him the little casket.

His home seemed strange to him. The village street was not what it used to be; his father’s house no longer stood beneath the tall bamboo; he saw no familiar faces. At last, puzzled and distressed, he asked a passer-by if he knew aught of the people of Urashima.

“Urashima!” he answered in amazement. “He was drowned in the sea, many, many years ago. His people all lie buried on the hill. Their very tombs are lichen-grown with age.”

“Am I dreaming,” cried Urashima. “My Sea Princess, what have you done to me?”

Then seizing the casket he gazed upon the face of the nymph and as he did so a strange desire came over him to see what was within. He opened it just a crack and a thin, gray smoke rose toward heaven, and in the curling clouds he seemed to see the lovely form of the princess, and her eyes gazed sadly at him. Then he looked down at himself in wonder. From a stalwart youth he had become a white-haired old man; and, weeping bitterly, he stretched forth his hands to the sea.

“Ah, my princess, farewell forever. Without thee I faint and die. Thy love alone gave life,” and he sank down upon the sands and was no more.

He had been gone from earth a thousand years.

THE FIREFLY OF MATSUI

Shizoku of Matsui loved a maiden called Kennei-Botaru, for she was bright and sparkling. Late one snowy night he was returning from a wedding party when amidst the tiny snowflakes which were beginning to fall, he saw a strange light flicker and flash before him.

“Kagaribo mo Hotaru mo hikaru Genji kama!”[16]

he exclaimed, wondering that the O-botaru (great firefly) should be flitting about in winter snows.

As he gazed upon it, the creature flashed and darted toward him and so annoyed him that he thrust at it with the stick he carried.

Hither and yon it flashed, like a will-o’-the-wisp until at last it darted away into the garden of the house wherein dwelt his betrothed.

The next day he saw his beloved, and she said to him shyly, “Last night I had a strange dream. I thought I had wings and could fly and that I was flying through the night. It was cold and there was snow in the air and I said to myself, ‘Where is my beloved that I may fly to his breast and be warm?’ Then I saw you coming swiftly toward the bridge with your lantern, though the moon shone bright in the heavens. Then I flew to you, but you were not overjoyed to receive me. You struck at me and drove me from you, and I fled in terror into the garden where I hid myself in the heart of a plum blossom, and the snow fell upon me and I was cold. Then I awoke and I was afraid, and something whispered to me ‘His heart is cold to you as was the heart of the plum blossom when the snow fell upon it!’ What means my dream?”

“Indeed, I can not tell,” he made answer. “But I know well you read its meaning wrong. Were I to drive you from me and you to seek another, then would your heart’s resting place be cold as was the plum blossom of your dream. But trouble not yourself, beloved, for never shall I drive you away,” and he smiled upon her and the heart of O Botaru San was comforted.

[Illustration: “HE THRUST AT IT WITH THE STICK”]

FOOTNOTES:

[16] “Is that the glimmer of far festal fires, Or the shimmering of the firefly? Ah, it is the Genji!”

THE MOUNTAIN ROSE

Ota Dakwan was a noble _daimio_.[17] His castle was filled with retainers who waited upon him, at his least word flying to obey his commands. Men vied with each other to do him honor, bowing low before him as he passed and saying “Behold Ota Dakwan, the Daimio!”

Young maidens blushed at his name and when the moon shone through the lattice, sighed to the nightingale to sing the praises of this splendid warrior.

Honors crowded thick upon him, but of it all he wearied and often sought the forest, there to hunt in solitude. Where the great trees spread their branches and the bamboos and the pines talked together he spent many hours, returning to his castle at night, weary, but with his game bag full.

Often people said to him, “What do you find so wonderful in the forests of the hill country?”

“Sunlight and shade,” he answered, “everglade and waterfall, game to hunt and no one to say me nay; above all, the mighty mountain, cool and aloof as is the spirit of the great;” and at his answer men wondered.

One day Ota Dakwan hunted long upon the mountain-side, so long that he wandered far from home and a great storm of rain came upon him, from which there was no shelter. He was glad, therefore, when in a lonely spot he saw a tiny cottage beside a grove of great bamboos, and he ran to it for shelter.

Within was a young maiden who smiled upon him, but spoke not. She was beautiful as a dream though poorly clad, and he said to her, “Will you lend me a straw rain coat? for every tree in the forest sends down her showers and I shall be drenched before I can reach my home.”

The maiden blushed deeply and without a word hastily left the room. In a moment she returned, her delicate cheeks flushed pink, carrying a _yamabuki_[18] blossom which she placed in his hand, still with no word, only a sigh and a blush.

“What means this?” he asked, much puzzled. “I ask protection from the rain and you give me a flower. Were you not as fair as the first cherry blooms of spring, I could find it in my heart to be angry with you. Speak!” But she only shook her head and sighed, and, angry at last, he turned on his heel and left her, going forth into the rain, the flower still in his hand.

[Illustration: “SHE RETURNED CARRYING A _YAMABUKI_”]

He, the adored of all Yedo, to be laughed at by a mere country maiden who would not even speak to him! At this thought his heart rose within him, but remembering how sweetly she smiled and how like a rose she blushed, his anger melted away.

“She was as the flower she gave me, a mountain rose,” he thought to himself. Then he raised the delicate blossom to his face and its sweet scent was as the breath of morning, fresh and kind. The rain ceased, and hurrying homeward he was met by his head man who greeted him anxiously. To him he told his strange adventure, and the head man said, “The poet says ‘the mountain rose has many petals but it has no seed.’[19] The maiden meant to tell you in poetic vein that she possessed no rain coat. She is the fair, dumb daughter of your lordship’s keeper, and they are very poor.”

“They shall be so no longer,” said the daimio. “For one with so fair a soul should have fairer surroundings, and one upon whom the gods have laid a finger should have kindness from those of this world.”

Then he showed much kindness to her father, and to the maiden, sending to them gifts of rice and tea and rich garments. And oftentimes, when tired with his morning’s hunt, he would rest within the little lonely hut, and Yamabuki would serve him a cup of tea with a shy grace. Whenever he spoke to her it was with kindness and she would smile and blush and sigh a little, while he murmured to himself, “The god of silence laid his finger upon your lips, Yamabuki, little silent one.”

FOOTNOTES:

[17] Lord or knight.

[18] Wild rose.

[19] _Mino_, the Japanese word for “seed,” means also a rain coat.

THE EVIL ONE AND THE RAT

When the Spirit of Creation had finished his work, he came down from Heaven and gazed upon what he had done.

He saw the mountains gleaming pure against the blue, the rivers winding silvery to the sea, the rice fields lying warm and moist in the valleys--and it was good. He gazed upon the trees waving in the wind, the iris fields and the lotus ponds, the cherry blooms and the plum blossoms, and he smiled well pleased.

Then the Evil One appeared to him and with a hateful voice said, “Do not flatter yourself that you have done all well in this world. Indeed you have not. There are many things which are neither pretty nor useful. See how ugly this thistle is, and of what use is the bramble? Had I made things I would have done much better.”

Then the Spirit of Creation was very angry. He thought a thing of wrath and created a rat. It was large and fierce, and it quickly jumped into the mouth of the Evil One and bit out his tongue. Then was the Evil One in great rage and he uttered horrid cries and danced an evil dance upon the grass. He thought to himself, “Since the rats are here, they shall be made to be a torment to the earth,” and he made them increase greatly until they overran the Land of the Ainu.

[Illustration: “HE DANCED AN EVIL DANCE UPON THE GRASS”]

At this the people were very unhappy. “Oh, Creating Spirit,” they cried, “take away these pests, for they eat our grain and our rice, they gnaw our huts, they frighten our children. Destroy them, oh kind Creating Spirit.”

But the Spirit shook his head. “Not so,” he said, “I may not destroy that which I have once made. But I will create another thing which shall war with the rats, and so you shall be helped in your distress.”

He created straightway cats and the cats warred greatly upon the rats so that they grew less. Then were the people pleased and rejoiced, but an old man said to them, “Speak not evil of the rats, nor of anything which the Creating Spirit has made. It must be that the Creating Spirit is displeased when his works are spoken ill of, for he punished the Evil One for so doing. Besides, everything created is of some use. Even the rat bit off the tongue of the Evil One.”

THE PAINTER OF CATS

Once upon a time a long, long time ago there was a boy who was clever and polite and kind, and it would seem as if he was a very fine boy indeed. But he had one fault. He would draw pictures of cats.

Now that does not appear to be a very bad fault, but the trouble was that Kihachi would not do anything else. He drew cats at school when he should have been studying his lessons. He drew them when all the other children were at play and when it would have been far better for him to have been running and jumping.

When his brothers and sisters were sleeping peacefully at night upon their wooden pillows, Kihachi would arise from his sleeping mat and, stealing to the paper partitions of the little room into which streamed the moonlight, he would draw cats. In the early morning when the sun gleamed over the tiny garden and the dew lay like jewels upon the rice fields, still Kihachi could be found drawing cats.

He drew large cats and small cats, mother cats and kittens. He drew them even upon his clothes, and this caused his mother much annoyance, though she was very patient. When, however, it came to pass that she found a whole family of kittens playing their pranks, in pencil, upon her own best _obi_,[20] she felt that something must be done.

“My lord,” she said to her husband, “this boy and his cats make me too much trouble. I have done everything to cause him to stop, but to no avail. I have even burned him with the _moxa_[21] but still he does not cease. He says he can not. Our other sons are able to help you in the field and our daughter is a great assistance to me in the household. But Kihachi does not work, and his schoolmaster says he will not study. He will do nothing but draw cats. What shall we do with him?”

“It may be that so strange a boy will grow up to be something quite different from us,” said his father. “He is always agreeable. Every morning he says most politely, ‘O hayo, O tat’ San, O hayo, O oka San.’[22] It seems to me _Bot chan_[23] is not bad. Perhaps he would make a good priest. Let us take him to the temple and see if he will not there forget his cats.”

So they took him to the temple and the priest received them with courtesy. “Enter, honorably enter!” he said, and they entered saying, “We have brought to you our youngest boy in the hope that you will graciously permit him to become your acolyte.”

The priest asked Kihachi many questions, very difficult ones, and these he answered so cleverly that the old man said to the parents, “This child is destined to be great. He is very clever. Leave him with me and I will teach him all he needs to become a priest.”

So Kihachi stayed in the temple and he studied very hard. He liked to get up early as the mists were breaking over Fuji San and the temple bells were ringing in the dawn. He loved to sit in the twilight when the flowers of the _yamabuki_ are mirrored in the still marsh waters. He loved to pluck the primrose, flower of happiness, and to twine it with the _nanten_[24] into wreaths for the shrine of Buddha. He liked to read and to study the sacred books and he learned many prayers, but still he liked to draw, and still he drew cats.

He drew them on the margins of the books, on the prayer rolls, on the very _kakemonos_[25] of the temple, and this much displeased the good old priest.

At last he could not stand it any longer and he called the boy to him. Kihachi bowed very low, his hands and forehead touching the floor.

“Bot chan,” said the priest, “you will never make a good priest. You may some day become a great artist, but you will never be anything else. You had better go away from the temple and seek your fortune in the world. Here is a bag of rice for you. Put it in a bundle of your clothes, and go, and may good fortune go with you. I will give you one last bit of advice. When darkness gathers, fear great places, seek small shelter.”

Kihachi thanked the priest and went mournfully away from the temple. It seemed to him as if he was always to be unhappy because of his cats, but he could not help drawing them. He was afraid to go home, for he knew his father would punish him for disobeying the priest. He did not know what to do. At last he thought of a large temple in the next village, and wondered if some of the priests there would not take him for an acolyte.

“At least I can try,” he said, and hurried on, hoping to reach the temple before night.

It was a long way, and his feet grew very sore and he was tired. So it was a great disappointment when he reached the temple to find it deserted. Not a priest was there to offer incense, not an acolyte to ring the temple bells.

“How strange it is that everything is covered with dust! There are cobwebs spun over the altars!” he said. “It seems to me an acolyte is needed. I shall stay at least for the night and perhaps to-morrow the priests may return. They will commend me if I make things very clean.”

He laid down his bundle and began to clean the temple with a will, and soon it was quite free from dirt and dust. Then he sat down and rested, but noticing a large screen with quite a blank space upon it, he drew out his writing box and began to draw cats as hard as he could draw.

He thought nothing of how time was passing until suddenly he noticed it was growing quite dark, and he began to be a little afraid. He looked about him. How huge and deserted seemed the temple hall! How small a boy he was! Then he remembered the old priest’s parting words, “When darkness hovers, fear great places, seek small shelters.” Surely this was a great place! He hunted about hoping to find a small place which might be safer, and, surely enough, there was a tiny recess in the wall with a door which could be slid into place. He entered and found there was just room enough for him to curl up and go to sleep, which he did, for he was so tired that sleep came to him quickly.

[Illustration: “HE BEGAN TO DRAW CATS”]

He slept soundly, but at last was awakened by a loud noise. It seemed as if a thousand ogres were fighting, and with the noise of the fighting came horrid screams. Kihachi was afraid to make a peephole in the paper partition, and so he lay very still until at last there was a more awful scream than before and the sound of a heavy fall. Then all was still.

Kihachi lay quite still until the morning light began to creep into his cabinet, and then he thought, “I must get up and ring the dawn bell; for when the priests return they will be pleased to find that I have attended to everything.”

So he jumped up and hastened to ring the bell. Pure and clear its tones rang out over the cool morning air, and Kihachi noticed figures in the valley below moving rapidly, and he said, “Here come the priests. I hope they will be pleased with what I have done.”

Then he went to look at the cats he had drawn in the great temple hall the night before. But what a sight met his eyes! Upon the floor of the temple was a pool of blood and beside it the body of a fierce and terrible rat, the largest he had ever seen. It was as large as a cow, indeed it was a monster rat goblin.

“What killed you?” he cried, “there must have been a battle royal here in the night, for I heard sounds as if an army of cats was let loose.”

Then his heart stood still, for he saw that the mouths of all the cats he had drawn were covered with blood!

“My cats killed the rat goblin!” he cried joyfully; and at that moment he heard steps and turning, saw the headman of the village with several other men entering the temple.

“What does this mean?” asked the headman. “Do you not know that this temple is haunted by a terrible rat goblin? Surely you did not spend the night here?”

“I spent it quite comfortably,” said Kihachi, “and I think the goblin is dead.” Then he showed the headman the rat and his cats, and told him what had happened in the night. The headman said, “It is well that you obeyed the old priest’s instructions to ‘seek small shelters.’ This goblin has haunted the temple for many months and no one who has come here has ever returned. Your cats are very lifelike; I believe that some day you will be a great artist. In the city yonder you will find my brother. Go to him and tell him your story. He will help you. You have done my village a good turn with your cats, so here is a present to help you along;” and he gave him twenty _yen_.

Then was Kihachi very glad in his heart, and he made his thanks to the headman and went his way.

And thereafter, when he became a great artist and taught many boys to draw, he laughed as he told his pupils, “My first great picture was a drawing of cats, and for it I received twenty _yen_.” And his pupils were much astonished and called him always “The Painter of Cats.”

FOOTNOTES:

[20] Sash.

[21] Punk.

[22] Good morning, Father--Good morning, Mother.

[23] Boy.

[24] Heavenly bamboo, a tree with bright scarlet berries.

[25] Hangings or pictures.

THE COMING OF BENTEN SAMA

Long ago the river of Kashigoye flowed into the sea by the Marsh of the Terrible Dragons. The dragons were five, and yearly they came forth and devoured the maidens of the village and there was no way to hinder. But the people cried loudly to Benten Sama, the goddess of mothers, the bestower of love and beauty.

Now Benten Sama had many sons: Daikoku, who gives wealth, Ebisu, who is the god of fishermen, Hatei, who is full of mirth, and others equally renowned.

Of all these sons, Benten Sama loved Ebisu best, and for his sake all fishermen were dear to her. When, therefore, O Ume San, daughter of the headman of the village, besought the blessing of the gentle goddess upon her lover, a fisherman, Benten Sama listened.

“Goddess of Mercy,” murmured the girl. “Send thy blessing upon him, for my honorable father will not consent to our union. He says, ‘When the five Dragons of the Marshlands are no more thou shalt marry this fisher lad.’ I pray you, gentle goddess, soften the heart of my father, and may thy son Ebisu bestow his favor upon Hakuga.”

[Illustration: BENTEN SAMA]

Benten Sama listened to the girl’s prayer and smiled. She whispered to her son and he was kind. He filled Hakuga’s nets with fish and these brought many _yen_. He then approached the father of O Ume San and besought of him his daughter, his Go-between[26] saying, “Honorably deign to listen to the prayer of Hakuga and give to him your daughter, for he has many _yen_!” But the father replied ever the same, “When the five Marsh Dragons are no more,” and the Go-between returned sadly to Hakuga.

Then the maiden prayed again to Benten Sama and she said, “Kind Goddess, hear! Send some curse upon the five Marsh Dragons, that Hatei your son may bestow mirth upon us, for we are sad.”