# Folk-Lore Record/Volume 1/Some Japan Folk-tales

SOME JAPAN FOLK-TALES.
LONG time ago the priest of a Buddhist Temple at Tatebayashi, in the province of Pekin, found an old iron boiler amongst a lot of lumber, one of the kind of teakettles formerly used on great occasions. It looked as if it had been ill-used, it was so old and battered. But the priest was a thrifty man, and a lover of old-fashioned things; so he was looking to see what he could make use of amongst the lumber that his predecessor had left behind him. He cleaned the old kettle, and, filling it with water, set it on the fire to boil. To his great amazement it seemed to move, and the head, tail, and four legs of a badger seemed to grow out of it, before he could say the ever-ready prayer of his sect. It then jumped from the fire and tried to escape; but the priest calling to the neophyte to come and aid him, they beat the badger down with brooms and caught it, and put it into a box. Now there was a dealer in old metal in the village who was known to the priest, and the neophyte was sent to bring him to the temple, but nothing was to be said about the tricks of the pot. When the box was opened to show the dealer, it seemed to be the same old rusty, dirty thing it was before the priest cleaned it, so the dealer would not give more than about ten cents for it. The priest, however, after some attempts to obtain more for such a heavy kettle, closed the bargain, glad to be rid of it.
The dealer found it heavier to carry than he at first thought, but he managed to get it home. The same night he was awoke from his sound sleep by noises that seemed to come from the corner where he had placed the tea-kettle, but they ceased when he sat up to watch. ​Fancying there might be a thief, he was cautious; and presently, in place of the pot, he saw a great badger dancing about, in a way that astonished him, skipping from place to place and balancing itself in the strangest attitudes until the poor man was quite frightened. Early the next morning he went to a friend, another old-metal dealer, and told him about the badger's tricks. This old man had heard when a child about the story of a tea-kettle that was bewitched, and he thought that perhaps the one bought from the priest might be the same. He advised his friend, therefore, to exhibit the kettle as a curiosity, for, if the badger's good will and confidence could be gained, it would bring its possessor a fortune. He also advised that no prayers should be said, or religious ceremony observed, near the place where the tea-kettle was, as such would annoy the badger and interfere with the exhibition. The dealer took his friend's advice, and, erecting a temporary building, succeeded in getting the badger to show off his tricks in public. When the tea-kettle was placed on the stage it would not move till there was a crowded audience; then, assured that every one had paid his entrance fee, it would gradually develop head, limbs, and tail, and go through the funniest performances on a tight-rope, with umbrella, fans, &c, dancing and tumbling, finally disappearing suddenly, and here the old rusty tea-kettle would be seen back on the stage again.
The dealer became a very rich man, but he feared he had incurred the wrath of Nin-rai-oama (Buddhist divinity), and he therefore made presents of money to the temples that the priests might pray for him, and avert the punishment he feared he had incurred; for, by giving up a portion of his wealth, he hoped to enjoy the remainder for many years, and be sure of a happy hereafter free of trouble. The priest who had sold the tea-kettle was a clever man, and had no difficulty in obtaining enough money to build a fine new temple, the dealer believing he was thus making the road easy for himself in the next world. There was a special place built for the tea-kettle. It was canonized, and named "Great Enlightened Spirit of Bum-buku;" and is still to be seen.
SHIPPEI TARO,
N the good old time, when young gentlemen were proud of the knowledge of fencing, and, not like those of this degenerate age, effeminate rakes, who spend their time dallying with dancing and singing girls, it was the custom for the young cavaliers to travel about and meet renowned swordsmen in order to practise manly accomplishments, become expert, used to hardship, and gain health and vigour.
One of these students, who was roaming about the northern province, one night lost his way in the hills, and, becoming weary and foot-sore before he could find a habitation, joyfully espied a little wayside shrine, which he found was only just large enough to permit him to sleep inside. In the middle of the night he was aroused by a great noise made by a gathering of cats, which he could see by the faint light of the rising new moon were gamboling and evidently enjoying themselves. He fancied he could hear voices repeatedly saying, "Don't tell Shippei Taro: don't let him know,"—and then the cats would dance about with great glee. Being tired, and withal a little afraid, he did not dare to disturb their frolics. In the morning, feeling very hungry, he was anxious to find the nearest house, so followed the first path he met with, which, showing signs of recent footsteps, gave him hope; but before he had gone far he heard cries of women, their voices sounding as if they were in great distress. Hurrying on, he came to a young girl crying bitterly, and seated on a bundle of firewood, which she had evidently been sent to gather. She told him that every year it was the custom to offer a sacrifice of a young maiden to the mountain god, that it had fallen to her lot for this year, and that in two days she would be the victim offered up. Further inquiry convinced him that this had something to do with what he had witnessed the night before. He accompanied her to the village, and, giving her the best encouragement he could to cheer her up, hurried on, and after satisfying his cravings with a hasty ​meal made inquiries about "Shippei Taro." This he was told was the name of a fine hunting-dog belonging to the Prince, who had left it in the care of an agent while his master was away at court. So off our hero trudged, and, telling the agent his story and fears, borrowed the dog. Fortunately this agent was a learned man and had been one of the most active of the disciples of the tenets of Haji-no-Tsukune, who was renowned in history for having substituted clay figures for living sacrifices.
Now it was the custom to put the victim in a cage, so the student took the dog to the vicinity of the shrine, and, secretly communicating to the girl and her mother his intentions of attempting a rescue, watched his opportunity to substitute the dog for the girl. The following night the cats again assembled, and this time an enormous tom-cat, who seemed to be leader, appeared the most active. The student could hear voices, and to his astonishment heard the cats talking about and glorying in their anticipated feast, for it seems they would devour the poor girl as they had always done the former victims.
The student at last let loose Taro, who first siezed Master Tom-cat, and made short work of him and scores of the others. It turned out these were ghouls in the form of cats, so the student's enchanted sword was made to do good work in seconding Taro's brave work.
The student, imitating the great ancestor of the Emperor, Susa No, claimed the pretty maid as his wife, and the story becoming widely known, greatly contributed to the abolition of this hideous custom.
SUSA NO AND THE OROCHI.
HEN Susa No was banished for his wild conduct, he wandered homeless through the mountains for a long time. One day while trying to find his way through the thick forests of the country of Idzumo, at a place called Hino Kawa Kami, he heard voices of women crying as if in great trouble. Making his way speedily in the direction of the voices, he soon came to an old man and woman and a young girl, and, inquiring the cause of their weeping and cries of distress, he was told that the deity of the mountain was propitiated by the yearly offering of a human sacrifice, a young maiden, and that it had fallen to the lot of their daughter to be the next victim; also that there was a monster known as "Eight-forked-great-serpent," an eight-headed reptile vomiting flame, that appeared at the shrine during the time of sacrifice every year.
Susa No offered to rescue the maiden, unknown to any one but themselves, if they would give her to him to be his wife. Of course he would have to convey her speedily away, but she must first go through the ordeal of being taken to the place of sacrifice by her parents. The maiden joyfully consented, and was glad to have such a noble looking man as her rescuer and future lord and master.
Susa No secretly procured eight large earthen jars and buried them opposite the shrine, so that they could not be seen during the ceremony. He also obtained a quantity of strong spirit, and hid it in the forest near at hand; then, when all the people had departed before the sun had set, leaving the maiden alone, for they feared the dreadful orochi, Susa No filled the jars with the spirit, and with drawn sword awaited the monster. He then released the maiden, but bade her remain in the shrine to attract the reptile, persuading her to have no fear, as he bore a charmed life.
When the orochi, believing every one to have gone, approached the shrine with horrible noise and dreadful flaming eyes and tongues, the maid was much frightened; but, as Susa No had anticipated, it scented ​the spirit in the eight jars, and dipping a head into each, did not leave a drop in them. The strength of the spirit speedily took effect, so that the monster fell an easy prey to the brave Susa No. Now, as serpents are said to join readily again when cut, he hewed the orochi to pieces all but the tail. This resisted his efforts, so cutting it open he found therein the blade of a sword, now known as Mura Kumo Isurugi.
Susa No subsequently erected a shrine, and composed a poem, which may be rendered thus:—
Countless piling clouds Idzumo's rocky heights envelop, My spouse there have I placed, A fence around her raised, My strong arm protects her.
MOMOTARO.
NCE upon a time there was an old couple who had no children, and, being poor, could not adopt any. They grieved over their lonely lot, and often prayed and paid visits to neighbouring shrines, that they might not be left deserted in their last days, They were kind, honest, and devout, and their neighbours agreed that they were worthy, deserving folk.
One day, after returning from a visit to a shrine, Granny was at the stream washing, when she saw floating along a fine ripe peach. Instead of at once greedily eating it, she put it carefully away to give to her old man. When she had given it to him, and he was about to divide it with a knife to give her half, it burst open and out dropped a little boy.
The old couple were delighted, and, believing the gods had sent them at last the long-hoped-for child, they planned a round of thanksgiving visits, to be made as soon as possible.
The boy was named Momotaro, and in course of time grew to be a fine lad, and the old man had him taught all the manly accomplishments, for poverty was not necessarily a hindrance to a willing and apt pupil.
When he had reached the age to think and act for himself, he was ​constantly thinking how he could best reward the old people for their kindness to him, and he set out on a pilgrimage to certain shrines, believing the good spirit would aid him. He had a dream that decided him as to his course in search for wealth and fame. There was an island said to be inhabited by demons who guarded fabulous treasures of precious things, hid in the caves, and fastened up with great metal doors, guarded by dragons and ghouls; and he dreamt he had been to this demons' isle, that he had overcome the demons, killed the guards, and forced the gates, and that the spirits in the form of animals had aided him in finding the treasure.
Momotaro now practised the use of heavy weapons until he became wonderfully expert. But the old folk were unwilling that he should incur such danger. He could be happy with them in their poverty: if they lost him they would be unable to replace him. But he persuaded them that the gods, who had sent him to them in a peach, would not desert them or him now.
So at last he started on his perilous adventure. His pet dog ran after him and asked to be taken: he would be good and not bark. The old folk had given Momotaro a lot of cakes to eat on the road, and he gave the dog some. By-and -by they met a monkey, who asked Taro where he was going, "and what have you got those great weapons for? " "I am going to the Demons' Isle to kill the demons and take the treasure home to my old folks as some return for their kindness: here is some cake for you master monkey," said Taro. "Then I will go with you and help you," said the monkey. Taro thanked him, and gave him some cake. So the three went along together until they met a pheasant, who seemed to be a friend of the monkey. Taro gave him some cake, and when he heard where Taro was going he offered to join the party and help. So Taro was glad he gave him some cake, but wondered how his three friends were going to help him.
When they reached the shore there was only one boat, and it was a long way off. The monkey told the dog to swim out with him on his back. He thus managed to untie the boat and bring it back. The pheasant flew out and helped with his wings too, the dog swam with the rope in his mouth dragging the boat, while the monkey paddled. ​When Taro got in, the pheasant flew to the island to spy out a place where they might land before the demons saw them, so that they would have time to hide the boat, for without it they would not be able to return with the treasure.
When they had landed and hidden the boat, Taro was guided by the pheasant to the cave, where he rapped, but got no answer. He then broke it open and found himself inside the palace of the demon-king. The pheasant flew over, the monkey climbed in, and the dog ran about the palace searching for the place where the treasure was, and when they had found it they came and told Taro. Then the monkey set fire to a place to attract the demons, the dog barked, and the pheasant made a great noise with his wings and tail on the roof, and thus Taro got the treasure away safely to the boat. When the demons found out their loss, they ran after Taro, but, while the dog bit them, the pheasant picked out their eyes, and the monkey jumped on them and scratched their faces. Taro beat them badly, so they begged for life, which he promised to spare if they would show him all the treasure. This they did, and he made them carry it to the boat, and then got away home as quick as he could with his three friends.
Taro and his friends were now happy, but the pheasant flew away to seek in the gardens of the princes the most beautiful lady in the land for Taro's wife. Taro's fame as a brave and rich man was great, so that he could choose where he liked, and thus he was able to fulfil the wishes of his kind old friends, who lived to see their great-grandchildren.
URA SHIM A TARO:
ARO was the son of a poor fisherman and his wife, who were worthy, devout people, and taught their only boy to be pious, kind-hearted, and honest. They looked forward to a happy old age. One day when out fishing the boy caught a turtle, which immediately begged to be released. The fact ​of its speaking to him assured him that it must contain the spirit of some human being, so he gave it freedom. The turtle then invited him to travel, and he, being assured his parents would not want in his absence, set out with his new friend. Finally they arrived at a beautiful palace built of coral and pearl, and his companion was suddenly transformed into a beautiful girl. He lived with her for a long time; but being anxious to see his good old parents again, he wished to visit them, and on departing on his journey was presented with a casket, which, so long as it remained unopened, gave him power to return at will, or to become possessed of anything he wished for. The casket also carried with it the gift of immortal youth. After a time, however, his curiosity overcame his prudence and he opened the casket, when it immediately melted away and. disappeared, leaving him suddenly an old man.
[Another version of the story represents Taro retaining the casket unopened (it only bringing him unlimited wealth), and living happily, after providing for his parents, and that a grandson opened it.]
THE LOST FISH-HOOK.
HI-KO, the fourth son of Ni-ni-gi, was the first of hunters, and was ever successful. His elder brother Ho-no tried fishing, but in vain; he never caught anything, so he agreed to change places with his brother. The result was that Ho-no did not get anything for his efforts, and Hi-ko not only did not catch any fish, but lost the hook, a big fish having made off with it.
Now, as this was a very serious loss, Ho-no was very angry with his brother Hi-ko, besides he was jealous of him, and, even when lli-ko made a great number of hooks, Ho-no refused them, unreasonably demanding the return of the lost one. Hi-ko was much grieved at his elder brother's harshness and unforgiving spirit and went to the sea-shore, at his wit's end what to do. While wandering along the beach he met an old man of very venerable appearance, who kindly inquired the cause of his grief. Hi-ko, glad to have some one to advise with in ​his tribulation, told the old man about the loss of the hook and his brother's anger. The old man told Hi-ko that he was the "Venerable Ixiiler of the Tides," and that he could aid him. A wicker basket Avas speedily woven, as if by magic, and the old man directed Hi-ko to go afloat in it and search for his hook, rather than return and bear with his brother's unkindness.
Hi-ko gladly followed the advice, and, confident that the old man meant him well, set off without fear, for he was brave and honest. Before he had drifted far, he felt himself sinking rapidly down into the depths of the sea, and he could soon see spread before him a beautiful lake, on the banks of which grew an immense tree. Not far from the tree Hi-ko saw the entrance to a beautiful palace that turned out to be the Dragon Shrine or Sanctuary. Hi-ko, looking over the edge of his basket, saw a lovely maiden leave, the shrine and approach the lake with a crystal vessel as if going to draw water, and in his eagerness and surprise he lost his balance and fell out, alighting in the branches of the tree. The noise startled the maiden, and, seeing the reflection of Hi-ko in the water beneath, she looked up, and saw the original in all his manly beauty just above her, gazing at her with admiration. The maiden, dropping her crystal water-holder, hastened back to the temple, and, meeting an old man at the entrance, pointed out to him Hi-ko in the branches of the tree. She said, "Surely this must be a son of the gods, he is so beautiful;" and, if it was one of these divine beings come from Japan, he should be treated with kindness and invited to their home.
This old man was Wada Zumi ("Wide-spread oceans"), and the beautiful maiden was his daughter, the Peerless Jewel lady.
Hi-ko was therefore invited by both to become their guest, and their friendly reception induced him to tell them of his misfortune, and of his meeting with the old man of the tides. The host promised to assist his guest, but did not mention that really he was aware of all this before, and that his friend of the tides had done him a good act to send in his direction so worthy a husband for his daughter.
The impatience and anxiety of Hi-ko, being allayed by hopes of finding the missing hook, were indeed soon forgotten in the companion​ship of the Peerless Jewel maiden. In the meantime the fishes of the sea were ordered to assemble for examination, but no tidings came of the lost hook. The mutual love of the young couple caused the hook to be forgotten, and they were united, and for three years lived happily, Hi-ko having no desire to return. At length Hi-ko desired to revisit for a short time his own country, and wished another effort to be made to find the hook, so the fishes were once more ordered to assemble.
The red-fish sent excuses, pleading indisposition, but a lobster was heard to say, that, peering out of a crevice, he saw that the red-fish had a sore mouth, as if something extraordinary was the matter. This gave a clue, and true enough there was the long-sought-for hook in the truant's mouth. Peerless Jewel had not, as heretofore, when she feared to lose her handsome lover, discouraged the search: her happy state made her anxious to see the land of her husband's race, and he being of Imperial birth it was advisable she should go.
Hi-ko, happy in the recovery of the lost hook, and with a parting gift from Wada Zumi of two jewels, the possession of which gave him control over the flowing and receding tide, set out to prepare a fitting place to receive Peerless Jewel; and Wada Zumi told him it would be pleasing to the eight hundred million divine spirits, that he should build a roof of cormorant's wings, beneath which his child should first see the sun, for he would be the ancestor of the future emperors. Hi-ko then departed on a crocodile, and landed safe.
When he met his brother and returned the hook, his reception proved that the loss of the hook was not the real cause of anger, and, when his brother attacked him and would have slain him, he remembered the tide jewels, and touching them commanded the tide to rise. Touching the other jewel Hi-ko caused the water to recede again, and he set to work to build the roof of cormorant's wings. Before this was finished Peerless Jewel had landed, bringing with her a lady more beautiful than a jewel, her youngest sister. Peerless Jewel's time of travail had approached unexpectedly, and she enjoined Hi-ko not to approach her, for dire would be the consequences. He in his anxiety could not desist, but he was punished by seeing his beautiful Peerless Jewel transformed ​into a crocodile that disappeared in the sea, leaving her child wrapped in sea-grass in the arms of her sister. The child was named U-ga-ya-fuki-awa-sedzu No Mikoto, "the royal child born beneath the unfinished canopy of cormorant's wings."
Henceforth the sea became inaccessible to man, and the jewels lost their virtue to control the tides, for the fault of Hi-ko.
U-ga-ya wedded the sister of Peerless Jewel, and lived 836,042 years. He was the first whose end was mortal, the first to die, and was interred (the first burial) at Wagashuayama in the province of Hinga.
TAMA MONO MAYE.
UNEHITO, the 74th of the Emperors (A.D. 1108 to 1123), now known by his posthumous title of Toba-no-In, became ill, but the doctors could not discover the cause or nature of the malady. At length Abe, the court astrologer, was consulted. He had heard some time previously that one night, when the Emperor was feasting, a sudden gust of wind had extinguished the lights, and, to the great amazement and terror of the company, the favourite mistress of the emperor, the lovely Tama Mono Maye, was noticed to emit a strange coloured luminous halo, which seemed to fill the air. This woman's origin was a mystery, but she seemed to have power to charm all who approached her. Abe suspected the emperor was bewitched by Tama, whom he considered to be no common mortal; and now he gave this as his opinion of the cause of the illness of the emperor. The favourite soon became aware that Abe had denounced her, and had him summoned to the royal presence, where she with great craftiness completely overbore him in argument. She obtained an imperial order for his disgrace and confinement within his own gates. Now Abe's wife had formerly been an inmate of the chief minister's household, and by her influence through this channel obtained a further hearing for her husband. Abe then erected an altar within the palace grounds, at which to pray for the ​recovery of the sick emperor, and then tried to induce him to approach it, under the plea of honouring it with his presence. This request, as he foresaw, was not granted, so he then induced the courtiers of both sexes to follow his own example, and at last only the favourite remained. She had avoided to the last by many cunning artifices every attempt made by Abe to get her within the precincts of the shrine. But she was at last without any excuse; even the emperor became suspicious, as the twenty-one days of fasting and prayer by Abe approached an ending; so she was compelled to go. The moment she stepped upon the matting at the foot of the shrine she was transformed into a white-visaged nine-tailed fox, and then vanished. The Emperor recovered and lived for some years after.
Two brave warriors and skilful archers were ordered by the Emperor to seek the fox and destroy it. The search was tedious, but at last it was found in the wild plain of Nasu, in the province of Shiinotsuke. Surrounding the place with men so that it could not escape, they unearthed and shot it. Immediately a large rock appeared on the spot, and such was its power of destruction, that no beast or bird ever approached it and survived; no mortal, even, was safe. At length a fence had to be erected round it, to keep the unwary or ignorant from harm.
About fifty years after, a priest of a religious sect, then but lately founded as an offshoot of some older Buddhist sects, devoted himself to subduing the demon, and, taking with him a large hammer, approached the dreaded rock, reciting prayers, and then struck it violently, keeping time to his chanting and breaking large pieces off. At length the figure of the beautiful Tama Mono Maye appeared, and she reproached him for hurting her; but the priest was well prepared to resist her spells; so he continued to pray that the soul thus confined within the demon might be purified and released, and become a spirit absorbed into eternity.
His prayers seem to have succeeded, as the rock has ever since been harmless.
THE LOVING WIFE.
URING the days of the Emperor Sen-ka Ten O (about A.D. 536 to 539) there was war between Japan and Corea. An expedition was sent to the provinces where fighting was going on, and with it went Sate Hiko, son of Otonomo Kanemura. The ships set out from Hizen, and the friends of the warriors ascended the hills to' see them as far on their voyage as possible. Sayo Hime, the wife of Sate Hiko, climbed higher than the rest, and when on the summit of Matzoura hill stood and prayed for her dear lord's safe and speedy return. Such was the intensity of her prayers and thoughts that she became petrified into a stony figure, and thus remains an enduring monument of what a true wife should be in her husband's absence—cold to all. Thus it is that the name of Sayo Hime is a household word in Japan for a faithful wife and devoted affection.
THE SPARROW'S WEDDING.
N the days of old, there lived in the forest at the back of an old shrine, not far from the pathway, a sparrow called Chiyo-suke. He had been for a long time looking about for a suitable wife for his eldest boy Chiyo-taro, being anxious that he should settle down and become more steady and industrious. As usual, he had formerly arranged with a neighbour a match between his daughter and Chiyo-taro, but the girl had died, and the boy was now, as his father thought, free. Such was not the case, however, because one day, when Chiyo-taro went to visit the shrine of his tutelary saint, he met the daughter of Suzu-yemon, and was so much charmed by her pretty face and modest ways that he fell in love with her directly, and, boy-like, suddenly decided that he would have her or none for his future wife. When he went home he took the first opportunity to confide his wish to his mother, and, as she had heard the story of Suzu-yemon, all about his being caught and his tongue cut by the cruel old woman, and also how kind and dutiful his daughter Osuzu always was to her friends, ​she promised to help him. Chiyo-suke was sorry his son had not made a grander match, but, as there was nothing to be said against the character of Osuzu and her family, he, with a little coaxing, consented.
The next thing to be done was to find some elderly woman, who was intimate with both families and a good match-maker, to act as a gobetween in such cases, and who was smart and clever in finding out everybody's business. Now there is rarely much trouble in finding out such a one, for, if they manage well, they are sure to receive nice presents from all parties, and they generally try hard to earn them. Dressing herself in her best clothes, and asking that one of Chiyo-suke's maidservants might attend upon her to make a little more show, the match-maker paid a visit to Osuzu's family. The good folk guessed the object of the visit to be an offer of marriage for their daughter, but as in duty bound, according to olden custom, they cleverly avoided appearing to know it, and evaded every attempt to bring round the chat to that subject. After many pipes of tobacco had been whiffed, and tiny cups of tea sipped, they at length admitted that Osuzu was not as yet betrothed, but they were in no hurry, there was plenty of time, and her pretty face and cleverness would get her a rich husband by-and-by. The match-maker hinted that Chyo-suke's son would be a very good match. He was rich, handsome, and clever, not any worse than other young men, and so forth. She pressed her point, and finally obtained the consent of Osuzu's friends to return to Chiyo-suke and arrange for a formal meeting of the two families.
Elated with her success, she commenced in earnest, and the result was that in a few days the middlemen or witnesses were appointed. The bridal gifts were chosen by the bridegroom, amongst other things a beautiful girdle, a bundle of white fibre, fish, wine, &c.
In return the bride's family sent him a complete dress of ceremony, wine, &c, and on the day of the wedding her bridal outfit would be sent to her future home.
A lucky day was now chosen for Osuzu to leave her old home, to go to her future one. Chiyo-taro's friends and neighbours met at his house on the evening of the happy day with their paper lanterns, which they lighted to go to meet the bride and her friends.
When the chair in which Osuzu was carried arrived at her new ​home, she was lifted out of it and carried into the house with a great fuss, for it is not lucky to allow the bride to walk in for the first time lest she should touch with her feet certain places, and that would be a bad omen. She was first taken to the Buddha shelf, the family shrine, and to the Shelf of the Gods and other places, to kneel before them and pray to be admitted into the family, and for prosperity to her new home—she still wearing her beautiful new silk dresses and the veil of floss silk over her head. Then she was led to the best room, where a grand feast was spread out, and seated beside Chiyo-taro. They drank wine from the same cup, whilst the friends clapped their hands and congratulated them. She was then led to a side room, and her robes were changed for a beautiful bright-coloured crepe dress and a gold brocade girdle. During the feast her robes were changed several times, to exhibit to admiring friends the extent of her wardrobe, and by the time daylight was dawning every one had feasted so heartily that they Avere nearly all asleep.
This was said to be the grandest wedding known in the forest for many long years. Chiyo-taro was a good, kind, husband, and he and Osuzu were happy and prospered, living to a good old age.
A GUILTY CONSCIENCE.
ONG ago there was a lazy man whom the little children of the village always teased and played pranks upon when they could. One very warm day they found him asleep in the shade, so they twisted up some paper and put the end in his nose; they watched until he awoke, taking care, however, to be at a safe distance.
The tickling of the paper in his nose woke him, and putting his hand up to his face he felt the paper, and started in a great fright shouting out, "Oh! Oh, have I been changed to an ox, tied by the nose, to be a beast of burden; is this a punishment for my sins?"
THE MAID WHOSE FACE WAS HIDDEN UNDER A BOWL.
N olden time there lived in an out-of-the-way place, in the province of Yamato, an old couple who had a very pretty daughter, an only child. Her father died while she was yet a little girl, leaving her and her mother in great want. They were of noble birth, but civil war had driven the father to hide himself in this place, and pride had prevented him making any effort to regain a position by humbling himself to his successful enemies, When the little maid was thirteen years old her mother fell sick.
The poor woman, fearing she would never recover, was in great distress before her death; the thought of leaving her lovely child alone in the world, without friends or protector, troubled her. She sent the maid for a large wooden bowl, and, when she brought it, directed her to put it on her head upside down so as to hide her face, and told her that when she became an orphan it was on no account whatever to be taken off until she was married of her own free will to the man of her choice. The mother died the same night, and the maid found the bowl could not be moved, and thus it remained for years. Her beauty became more marked every year and attracted much attention, but she firmly repelled all advances made her. Her hereditary pride, however, sustained her in her efforts to earn an honest, though a scanty and precarious, living, and she refused all proffers that appeared to be dictated by charity or evil intent.
Now there was in this village, as in all others, a "great man," and he was both rich and clever. Having formerly been an officer at court, he had sent his son to replace him, and take advantage of the opportunity to study. The lady of the house was in delicate health, so he, hearing of the "beautiful maiden with the wooden bowl," took her under his protection, and she became the lady's waiting-maid. In time the son returned satiated with the follies and pleasures of the gay capital, and he was not slow to notice the beauty and modesty of his step-mother's handmaiden; indeed before long he made fierce love to her, which she haughtily repelled, and her resentment only made ​him the more eager to possess her. His family tried to dissuade him, and the unjust and unkind remarks he was forced to hear only the more determined him to obtain her as his wife.
Her fair features, elegant bearing, well-chosen language, and her few accomplishments, made her an object of envy to the country lasses, but her lover's city experiences had taught him to know her true worth. Even when he had gained the unwilling consent of his friends, he had yet to obtain the maid's own free consent; but one night, having dreamed her mother had visited her and advised her to consent, she finally allowed a lucky day to be chosen.
Great was the stir made in preparing for the wedding ceremonies and feastings. Many were the remarks made, but the faithful and love-smitten swain heeded not the banter of his acquaintances of both sexes, and, as a diversion, set himself to work laying out the garden, and fitting up the apartments set apart for him by his father for himself and his bride.
Before the wedding, frequent efforts were made to remove the bowl, and the well-meaning, but too officious, friends only desisted when they found their efforts fruitless, and that they caused the maiden much pain. However, in the evening, when the final hymeneal wine cup had passed between them, the wooden bowl suddenly split asunder, and, disappearing with a great clash and rattle, left a shower of all kinds of precious and beautiful presents on the train of the bride's robes. She told her spouse about her mother appearing to her in her dream, and promising that, if they were true and faithful to each other, happiness and prosperity would be their lot through life. Let us believe it was so with the faithful swain and his pretty maid with the wooden bowl.