The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1904-09-16
Dune
he Story of a
Little Japanese
Girl and the
Cherry Bios
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The sun was warm on the matched
roofs and the groves Of trees. and
merry crowd filled the streets of the
little Japanese village, for it was the
festival of the cherry blossoming.
In Japan the Sunrise Kingdom"
as it is called, the calendar is divided
into the time Of the poisoning OF the
flowers. The camellia, sometimes
shrouded in snowfiakes. helps to ush-
or in the New Year; then, after few
weeks of cold rains and dull skies.
the branches CT the witherad old
black plum trees are starred with
fragrant white flowers, followed soon
by the y-blossoming, and unit!
November, when the brilliant maple
leaves light up the scene, this gentle
people count the seasons in flowers.
In this little village most of the
cottages had matched caps on their
heads. Some were worn with age
and rain, but Dame Nature had
patched them with velvety MOSES
until the whole village looked like a
picture. There were only two streets
and these ran almost at RICH: angles
like a rude cross. The SEA, curving
far inland, Rugged the houses with
caps of thatch on two sides, so that
one could hardly help looking out
over the water wherever he stood.
Even though they wsaried of the seas
rough caresses they could not run
away, for great hills guarded them
at the rear, and only stepped away
q little at one side to let the smiling
rice fields climb down, terrace by
terrace.
If you have never seen a Japanese
rice field you would be surprised to
see one. The plants are set cut in
the mushiest mud that you can think
of. The workmen wade up to their
knees in this thin mud and set out
the plants; then, as they grow up,
there are men and boys who weed
them, stopping all day until their
backs are weary. At first the field
looks like a great pond or lake; then
some morning you lcok across it and
1t is all emerald green. A week or
so later, the wind blowing across it
ripples the rice stalks like long,
green waves and 1t is beautiful. Rails
ed paths cross the field and inciosa
them, and in the corners are great
beds of pink lotus flowers. something
like pink water-lilies, with broad, fat,
pad-like leaves. If you look across the
fields at nightfall, you may occasion
ally see crane standing on enc foot,
and looking like bird stuck down on
a Tong black stick. If the crop ma
lures early in the season you will
hear more frogs croaking than you
ever heard before, for the fine, fat
bugs that live in the mud are just
to frog taste. Looking down on the
fields from high up on the mountain
side 1t looks as though someone had
made them to order leveled eff ter
race on the steep slope and showed
each one in, for there is level space
with rice field slid over it. then a
climb and another deld. sometimes
four or FIVE in succession. hen the
rice begins to ripen the bids must
be kept away by boys witt wooden
.clackers, something like those our
boys play with. But the fields are
wide and the birds SO hungry and ag-
gravating, that it could npt by any
stretch Of the word be called fun for
q wide-awake boy.
But we must go back I'd the little
village with matched roots and the
merry crowd in the streets. There
were women in gay kimo1os of silk
and crepe, with huge sAshes and
wooden clogs. their hair piled high in
black coils. There were little maids
like women of small size. rally the
wee maids sash was soft and the
grown-up sash was stiff ans wide. The
babies were strapped on Jfhe back of
mother or sister, but sc me learned to
cling and get comfortable position.
Their heads, bare and shining, ex-
cept for a few tufts of black hair,
wobbled and bobbed as if they would
roll of, but their soft. tiny hands
chung tightly to the neck of the bear
er, and they never cried.
There were little men in long robes,
jinriksha runners in washbowl-shaped
straw hats, laborers with bare brown
legs wearing blue coats with big let
ters stamped on the back. and oyer