CHAPTER VII
A FEAST OF BLOSSOMS
"The cherry blossoms are here, so says the paper this morning," announced Mr. Harding as the girls came down to breakfast one day in April.
"The paper says so? What do you mean?" said Eleanor.
"It is so important an event, my dear, that the papers always spread the news abroad," her brother told her. "There will be great doings and we must not miss them."
"Well, I am sure I am pleased to see something more than temples and shrines and such old stuff," returned his sister. "What special form of enticement can you offer us?"
"I was going to suggest a picnic. To be sure Uyeno Park will be crowded with thousands of people who will take a lunch and go there to enjoy the blossoms, but as we shall want to see the crowd as well as the cherry trees we can be satisfied to become parvenu for once."
Eleanor laughed. "As if we never did anything but ride in coaches of state and sit on a raised dais when we are at home. What do you say, girls?" She turned to Mary Lee and Nan.
"It will be great," cried Nan enthusiastically, and Mary Lee agreed, if less heartily.
"We might take a boat and go out on the river," Mr. Harding suggested. "Ever so many persons do that; in fact, I don't know that the river will be any less crowded than the shore; still we can keep a little more to ourselves in a boat. You know the river Sumida's east bank shows ranks of cherry trees which will exhibit finely from the river. We can go ashore any time we like to see the people and can pick out some good place to take a lunch. Would you rather we took a hamper along or shall we depend upon a tea-house or inn or something like that?" He turned to Nan.
The girls consulted together for a while and then gave it as their decision that it would be best to take a hamper. "You see," said Nan, "when there are such crowds it will be difficult to be properly served and one may be starved before getting anything to eat."
"Most wisely concluded," approved Mr. Harding. "Well, we will talk it over with the others and if they all want to do something else there will be at least some of us to vote for the picnic."
But the others were quite satisfied with the arrangement although Mrs. Craig at first proposed that they should return to the hotel for lunch. This plan was so distinctly opposed that she laughingly gave in. "Oh, dear, dear," she cried, "I wouldn't come back for the world. I am sorry I spoke. I never met such a unanimity of opinion."
"We want to forget that there are such things as hotels, if we are to appreciate the spirit of the Feast of Cherry Blossoms," declared her nephew. "It is an outdoor festival entirely and doesn't mean conventionality of any kind."
"Oh, very well, very well, I give in," replied his aunt, "but if Miss Corner and I get tired of crowds and sharp sunlight and noise, you must allow us the privilege of coming back when we feel like it."
"We shall not put the least restraint upon you," spoke up Eleanor. "Neal and I are perfectly capable of chaperoning these two girls and Mr. Montell, who, of course, will come, too; he has been talking about the cherry blossoms ever since we came."
"I will go and call him up," said her brother, "and then, Nell, suppose you and I have a secret session to talk over what is to be packed in the hamper."
"You'd better let me have a word to say about that," spoke up Mrs. Craig. "Eleanor doesn't know anything about what Tokyo can provide, and I have had experience, plenty of it."
She was allowed to take part in the conference while the Corners went off to write letters knowing there would be no further opportunity for such things that day. However, the start was not made till nearly noon, Mr. Montell appearing at the last moment, breathless and fearing lest they had gone without him.
"Couldn't help it," he replied in answer to Mr. Harding's reproach. "Had to get off some stuff in time for the mail steamer and sat up nearly all night in order to get it done; it was a long story, and simply had to be done. Awfully sorry."
"You haven't kept us waiting so very long, Mr. Montell," Eleanor told him. "Neal, himself, wasn't on time."
"But I was detained at the office," explained Neal.
"Well, that is no better excuse than mine," retorted Mr. Montell.
"Here, here, stop your quarreling, you children," cried Mrs. Craig. "You are wasting time. Is everything ready, Neal? Then come along." So off they started to where the jinrikishas were in waiting and it was not long before they were afloat on the river Sumida, upon the top of a flower-adorned pleasure boat from which they could see many other as odd looking crafts, some of them bearing companies of singing girls.
"Isn't it a gay sight?" cried Nan. "It reminds me a little of a fête on the Grand Canal at Venice, only there one sees no such flowers as these and there is no such bright color among the costumes."
"It is stretching one's imagination rather far," said Mary Lee, "for I don't see any resemblance except that there are boats and singing."
"You are so very literal," declared her sister. "I didn't mean that it was exactly like, only that the spirit is the same and one gets something the same feelings."
For a mile along the bank of the river the flowering trees extended presenting an array of double blossoms under which the limbs were bending. Unlike our own cherry blossoms these were of pale pink, and against the blue sky looked like huge bouquets.
"I think the trees at Uyeno Park are really more beautiful," said Mrs. Craig critically. "I think we shall have to see those to-morrow. The blossoms do not last long and that is one reason of their attraction. The Japanese admire very much the dropping petals and refer to it often in their poetry. You see it, too, in their decorations. The double blossoms which you see here do not mean fruit after a while, for even the cherries of the single blossoms are not of much account, far inferior to ours."
"Isn't it so with most of the fruit here?" asked Mary Lee.
"With most, yes, although there is a small orange that is pretty good, and one can get quite nice figs. They raise small fruits, too, which are not half bad, but our American markets supply much better things than one can get here."
Nevertheless when the lunch hamper was opened, there was such a display of food as might be seen on a similar occasion at home.
"Hard-boiled eggs," cried Nan, peering into the basket. "Now I do feel as if I were really on a picnic. Chicken salad, is that? Good. I feel more and more at home. What else is there? Candied ginger, sardines and crackers, cheese, imported of course. I think this is doing pretty well for a foreign land. I observe you have some of those nice little rice cakes as a native production and – a bottle of wine, as I live."
"It is considered a flagrant omission if one doesn't taste wine at this special festival," explained Mr. Montell. "The natives indulge in their saké or rice-wine almost too freely, but I observe that Harding has been careful to observe moderation and has furnished only a very light variety which will hurt no one."
"Well," said Miss Helen, "I don't see that we have anything to complain of and are to be congratulated upon having so wise and efficient a caterer as Mr. Harding."
"Oh, don't lay it to my door," protested the young man. "Nell suggested the eggs and Aunt Nora a lot of the other things."
It was a merry little party which enjoyed their luncheon in sight of the flowering trees and within sound of many merrymakers strumming on samisens, singing in queer strident voices perfectly unintelligible songs and, once in a while, getting a little too uproarious over their gourds of saké.
"They have flower festivals right along through the year, don't they?" said Eleanor. "What will be the next to come?"
"The wistaria," Mr. Montell told her. "A good place to see those flowers is at the temple of Kameido, here at Tokyo, I am told. It is believed that the vines of wistaria flourish better if wine is poured upon their roots and so many a drop is allowed to trickle from the wine-cups used there."
"After the wistaria, what?" inquired Mary Lee.
"The iris. Where's a good place to find those, Neal?" Mr. Montell turned to his friend.
"Just right here close to this river, at a place called Horikiri. It is a great sight to see the crowds on the river then. The flower blooms in June in what is the rainy season, but there are opportunities of getting out between drops. After the iris come the midsummer flowers, the peony and the lotus. The lotus has a religious significance and is specially dedicated to the water goddess Benten whose temple we are going to see at Enoshima. Of course we know the chrysanthemum comes in the fall; it is made much of because it is about the last flower of the year. Many think it the national flower, but the cherry blossom is really that, although the chrysanthemum is honored at court and a magnificent show is given every year in the palace gardens. The royal bird of Japan is the crane as you may have guessed for you so often see it in decorations."
"Isn't it interesting?" whispered Nan to her aunt, "and don't you wish we had sentiment enough to do such things at home? Is the chrysanthemum the very last flower festival of the year?" She turned to ask Mr. Harding.
"Oh, no; at least I should say that with slight modification. The Maple Festival is the last, but that is not exactly a flower festival; it is given at the time when the maple leaves show their most brilliant colors. Other trees turn at the same time and it is the time for picnics and for gathering mushrooms which is made a jollification. You make up a party to gather mushrooms in the country and you enjoy the autumn foliage at the same time."
"What fun! I am going to organize just such a sport when I go home," declared Nan.
Luncheon over, they all decided to join the crowd on the banks of the river. Nan found herself by Mr. Harding's side as they joined the throng of revelers. "I want to tell you about a princess of the old days," he said. "She was not a reasonable young person and declared that she was going to give a cherry-blossom party although the month was December. As a princess must have anything she desired, the court was in despair till some one hit upon a happy plan. The result was that an army of workers was set about making paper blossoms, pink and white, which were fastened on the bare trees and gave so realistic a look to them that the garden party was a great success."
"Where could that happen but in Japan?" said Nan, pleased with the tale. "They make paper flowers so wonderfully that I can imagine the effect was all that could be desired. I have but one thing against these really fascinating people, and that is their music. Did you ever hear anything so dreadful as that singing, for instance?"
"Yet I have heard some little songs which were quite lovely. There is a lullaby which I recall, and which I am sure you will agree is as tender and plaintive as anything we could produce. If I had my violin here I could show you how it goes."
"Oh, do you play the violin?" Nan asked eagerly.
"Yes, a little, and you play the piano very well."
"Nell told you that, of course. I don't play anywhere near as well as I want to, but I do enjoy it. Is your violin here, and can't you play for us some time?"
"I have it at my rooms, but please don't think I am anything of a musician although my violin is a great solace to me. When my aunt gets back to her own house we must have some music. She has a piano there, you know."
Nan gave a sigh of pleasure. "I didn't realize how I missed my music till you began to talk about it," she said. "Even Japan has some disadvantages."
"But doesn't one enjoy a thing all the more after he has been deprived of it a while? We can make but one prayer to Kwannon, you remember, and I suppose that means that we should not ask too much of heaven."
Nan's eyes looked starry and bright as they always did when she was deeply interested. "I liked Kwannon," she said, "but I believe I liked the great bronze Buddha better."
"I thought you did, and so I brought you a little souvenir to-day to commemorate that visit to Kamakura." He drew from his pocket a very small but exquisitely carved figure of the Buddha. It was of jade, and was really a most beautiful piece of work.
"For me?" exclaimed Nan, as he gave it into her hand.
"If you will honor me by taking it. I thought you would like it as a souvenir."
"I should love it, but I don't know if I ought – " She hesitated.
"To take it from your friend's brother? Why not? It is not such a mighty gift."
"No," returned Nan doubtfully, "only it is so very beautifully done, and is really a treasure. I am afraid I shall have to take it."
Mr. Harding laughed.
Nan grew confused. "Oh, please don't think I mean that I don't appreciate it, for I do, very much. It is because I want so dreadfully much to keep it that I was afraid I shouldn't."
"Then please don't have any more compunctions."
"I won't, and I thank you so much. I consider it one of my very greatest and most valuable gifts."
"You will see so many more rare and beautiful things while you are here that you will soon learn how insignificant this little souvenir is. Isn't this a gay and happy crowd? Like a flock of bright butterflies, isn't it? They all wear their very best on such a day."
"The children particularly. What gorgeous kimonos and obis some of them have, and how they do love flowers."
They wandered on, sometimes coming up to the rest of their party, sometimes falling behind, and at last all returned to the boat for another slow journey on the river, and at last to return to the hotel well pleased with this first of their picnics in Japan.
The next day gave promise of rainy weather, and so they hurried to the Uyeno Park to see the trees there, which were already shedding their blossoms. These trees, it must be said, were more impressive in size and showed, against a background of evergreen trees, to better advantage than had those on the cherry avenue along the banks of the river. They contrasted well, too, with the surroundings.
"And here," said Mr. Montell, "is where we hang verses on the trees, I hope you all have yours ready."
There was a scramble for paper and pencils, and each one set about the task of writing rhymes in order to follow out the pretty custom. Presently Nan jumped up and waved her paper. "My ode is completed," she cried.
"You might know Nan would be the first," remarked Eleanor. "Rhyming always came as easy to her as rolling off a log. Let's see, Nan."
But Nan shook her head. "No, it might spoil the charm. I am going to dispose of it at once." This she did, picking out a particularly lovely tree whose low-hanging branches allowed her to reach up higher than could most of the young Japanese maidens who had already followed the custom.
"This is literally hanging one's verses in the wind as Emerson said," Nan remarked as she came back. "Who is next?"
There was no immediate answer but presently Mr. Harding left his place and Nan, watching, saw that he had hung his paper by the side of hers. "I don't see how he knew exactly which tree and which branch," she said to herself, and was convinced that he must have watched her very closely.
In due time the little poems were all tied in place and then Mrs. Craig declared that it was time to go. It was always a temptation to stop at some of the many curio shops on the way, but this time they were carried to their destination without any delay for it was beginning to rain, and although they were well sheltered by the curtains of the jinrikishas, they did not fancy being caught out in a downpour.
That night Nan took out her little jade figure and showed it to Mary Lee, telling of having been given it by Mr. Harding.
"It seems to me you have a case," declared Mary Lee. "Nobody has taken the trouble to pick me out a souvenir as fine as that."
"Perhaps some one will," returned Nan nonchalantly. "Don't you think this is a particularly good piece of carving? I was always crazy about jade and I am pleased beyond words to have this. I felt awkward about taking it at first because it is really valuable."
"Or would be at home. No doubt one can pick up such things here for very little, that is if one knows where to go."
That eased Nan's conscience and she put away the small charm without further qualms.
They had been in bed some time when from Mary Lee came the question, "Do you ever hear from Rob Powell, Nan?"
"I haven't heard for some time," returned Nan.
"Does he know you are here?"
"I don't think so, unless Rita has told him."
"Who wrote last, you or Rob?"
"He did, I believe."
"Nan Corner, I believe you have turned him down, yet you used to like Rob."
"I liked him very much but I was never in love with him, if that is what you mean."
"You used to talk about him a lot."
"Probably because I wasn't in love with him."
Mary Lee turned this speech over in her mind and decided that when Nan began to talk about Neal Harding a great deal she might take it for granted that there was no sentiment on Nan's side in that quarter. That Neal was strongly attracted to Nan she required not much perspicuity to see, and Mary Lee determined that she would keep her eyes open and, what was more, she would make a study of the young man, for it would be hard for any one to be found quite good enough for this eldest of the four Corners, the others thought. "If it gets very serious I will talk to Aunt Helen about it," decided Mary Lee, and with this thought in her mind, she glided into the land of dreams.
CHAPTER VIII
FLYING FISH
The rain lasted several days, the weather promising to be damp, humid and unpleasant from this time out. "Japan is most enervating," sighed Miss Helen. "Of course I knew its reputation as to climate, but I didn't quite realize how devitalizing it really would prove to be. If you girls have energy enough to go forth in the rain to view temples and curios and mission schools, you must not count on me as a constant companion." So the young people "flocked together," as Eleanor put it, and spent a part, at least, of each day in seeing shrines and such temples as could be reached without too much effort. Mrs. Craig was occupied in arranging for quarters at some cooler spot in the mountains and Miss Helen was half inclined to yield to her persuasions to become a neighbor if a suitable house could be found.
"I think it would be great fun to have a Japanese house of our own, for a little while anyhow," said Mary Lee, but Nan was not so sure that she wanted to leave Tokyo yet.
"There is much more to see," she urged as her reason.
"We could come back to it," argued her aunt.
"But it will get hotter and hotter," said Nan, "and more mosquitoish and we shall not want to come back until the summer is over," she added.
"Well, we needn't begin to argue about it yet," put in Mary Lee, "for we couldn't go anyhow until Mrs. Craig finds a place for us, and that will not be so easy to do."
So they lingered on in the rain, amusing themselves in many ways. Mr. Harding was very busy just at this time and was not able to give them much of his society, but Mr. Montell appeared frequently and Colonel Craig escorted them to many interesting places, to the museum in Uyeno Park, to the Zoölogical Garden, to Asakusa, or up and down the Ginza, the principal shopping street of the city.
"For my part," said Nan one day, as she and Mary Lee were being drawn rapidly through the rain to make a second visit to the temples of Asakusa, "I think it is really amusing to see the streets on a rainy day. It is ridiculously funny to watch the people with paper umbrellas and those queer clogs. Look at our runner, too; isn't he a sight, with his queer hat and that straw thatch of a cloak to keep off the rain? He looks so like the pictures we see that when I get to dreaming I can fancy the whole thing is unreal and that I am not here at all, but am looking at a moving picture show."
"Yes, but the jinrikisha men don't say 'Hi! Hi!' every few minutes as this one does," returned Mary Lee who was tenacious in the matter of absolute facts.
Nan laughed. The two were so very different, yet as they grew older were closer companions than they had been in their early days. Common experiences at college and in their travels had given them a better relation.
As they peeped out from behind the oilcloth curtain which protected them from the rain, they could see other jinrikishas drawn by similar straw-draped coolies, the water dripping down their legs, and their ceaseless note of warning calling attention to their advance through the narrow streets. They could see, too, women and children trotting along on their high clogs and wearing their rain-proof garments over which they held their umbrellas of oiled paper, so that, in spite of rain, the scene was not lacking color. Once in a while, a Buddhist priest or nun would be seen, and through the open fronts of the tea-houses along the way could be discerned squatting figures before tiny tables, eating with chop-sticks.
"Wouldn't it be fun to have a real Japanese party when we get back?" said Mary Lee. "We can get some chop-sticks and lacquered trays and things such as they have here."
"So we could," Nan fell in with alacrity. "We could have a hibachi, too, and we might, on a pinch, arrange a room just as one would look in a Japanese house here."
"And serve tea and rice cakes."
"Yes, and learn exactly the way to present a tray and to make a ceremonial bow. We could wear kimonos, of course, and could try to do our hair in Japanese style. We must get very handsome obis, for they are what determines a Japanese girl's dress."
"Do you notice how little jewelry they wear? Scarce any except handsome hair ornaments."
"That is so. We must not forget to buy some more hair ornaments; they will make lovely Christmas gifts. It will entertain us on some of the rainy days to go forth and provide the proper things for a real Japanese tea. We can have Joe come over to help us, and it will be great larks."
"We can give one another Japanese names; they have such funny ones. Imagine being called Bamboo Corner, or Tiger Corner, or some such queer name."
"But some of the names are very poetical, and not unlike those we use, flower names, like Lotus and Plum; those are not very different from our Rose and Violet."
"But nobody would think of calling a daughter Years of Bliss, not in the old United States."
"An Indian might, and as I think of it the Japanese do give names which mean in their language much the same that Indian names mean."
"I hadn't thought of that, but I believe you are right," returned Mary Lee.
They had now arrived before the gateway to the Park Asakusa, seeing before them oddly-shaped stone lanterns. On each side stood guardian figures known as the Two Kings. Once inside the gate were paved walks bordered by ancient cedar trees, hardly in keeping with the booths and shows which occupied the grounds. In spite of rain these were in operation, for here was a perpetual market-place where one could be amused on any day. The jinrikishas stopped to allow the party to alight and they all then stood before the great five-storied pagoda with its red roof.
"Shoes off, slippers on," said Eleanor slipping off her foot gear.
"And don't forget to wash your face and hands, nor your mouth and hands at the stone trough," Nan reminded her. They all went through this ceremony and went further in encountering the dealers in incense to be burned before the gods, and the sellers of rice for the sacred pigeons.
"We must get something for the horse," said Mary Lee, and after supplying herself with some cooked peas on a small plate she offered the food to a snow-white, pale-eyed animal who is dedicated to the goddess Kwannon. This office performed, they went inside to feed the pigeons and to hear an interesting talk from Colonel Craig who had made a study of this old temple.
The place was dimly lighted and full of the smoke of incense which, rising continually, made all objects indistinct, – glimmering Buddhas, strange pictures, streamers, banners, statues. The sound of chanting, and of startlingly queer musical instruments mingled with the clapping of the hands of worshipers kneeling before the various altars, while not in the least restrained, little children ran softly over the pavement laughing as they threw their handfuls of rice to the fluttering pigeons.
After they had made their rounds and had heard about early and late Japanese architecture, about other Pine Tree temples than that of Asakusa, and about the various shrines including that of the little Bindzuru, made of red lacquer and seated in a chair, they felt the pangs of hunger and were glad when the colonel proposed an adjournment to one of the various tea-houses in the grounds.
"We can refresh the inner man and then we can go to the circus or the museum or anywhere else you like," he said.
So off they went under the dripping cedars to find a modest little tea-house where they were received thankfully and were served a simple meal by a little smiling musmeé who drew up the tiny low tables before them where they sat hunched up on the floor cushions. The colonel and Nan found it hard to dispose their feet gracefully, much to the entertainment of the small maid who knelt before them to present her lacquered tray.
"Watch how she does it," whispered Nan to her sister, "for we must learn the trick before we leave this little country."
Mary Lee nodded understandingly and kept her eyes on the girl who smiled in response to such close observation.
The meal over, off they went to the museum and, but for the rain, would have stopped to see a fortune-teller who tried to lure them into her booth.
"We couldn't understand what she said, so what's the use?" remarked Mary Lee.
In some such manner were many rainy days spent, but at last there came a morning in May when the sun shone, and when from houses far and near floated strange figures of fish, "The Honorable Carp," for this was the Boy's Festival, and, as good luck would have it, the sun shone.
"Come and see! Come and see!" cried Mary Lee as she looked from the window that morning. "Isn't it a sight?"
"What is?" Nan hurried over. "Oh, we forgot entirely that this would be the fifth of May and that we might expect to see his honor, the carp, flying all over the city."
"I remember now, and Mr. Montell told us all about it. The carp is the symbol of courage and bravery which are the two things Japanese boys are taught to acquire."
"Those qualities, and loyalty to the emperor for whom any one of them would cheerfully die and say thank you."
"Why carp, I wonder. Why not shark or whale or dolphin, for example?"
"Because the carp is supposed to smile sweetly when you carve a slice from his living self, and to say, 'Hack away, good people; it doesn't hurt me and seems to please you.'"
"So that is why they serve them alive at dinners. I suppose it is to keep the much admired qualities continually in evidence. It doesn't seem quite fair to poor Brer Carp, whatever effect it may have on the little boys."
"I wonder why five fish are flying from that house over there," said Nan looking in the direction where the figures which, made like a bag and filled with the blowing wind, swelled their sides and flopped their tails quite realistically.
"There must be five boys in that house and the biggest fish stands for the youngest and littlest boy."
"Stands, did I hear you say?"
"Well then, wriggles or swims, whatever you like."
"I wonder what those little gilt baskets represent. They are baskets, aren't they? Over there on the long bamboo pole in front of that house that has the three fishes flying."
"Oh, those are supposed to hold the rice balls with which they feed the real fish. Some of the houses have other ornaments, you see; flags and signs and things. It looks very gay, doesn't it? But there isn't much of a crowd on the street, no more than usual."
"I like that legend of the koi, as they call the carp. He is said to be very persevering about swimming up-stream against the rapids and when he actually can fight his way up a waterfall he is caught up by a white cloud and becomes a dragon."
"That is why so many dragons, then."
"And by the same token, it is the why of fishes and waterfalls, and little gold balls in so many of the decorations. Isn't it queer that no matter at what time of year a boy is born his birthday is celebrated on May fifth?"
"Quite a matter of economy where there are several boys. Do you remember how Jack always used to feel aggrieved, when she was little, because she and Jean had to celebrate their birthday on the same day? She felt that you and I had the best of it because there were two days of feasting and party-giving instead of one for the two of us."
"Dear old Jack," said Nan with a sigh. "I tell you, Mary Lee, it will be mighty good to see those twinnies again and mother. As for mother it seems a year since we left her."
"We mustn't get homesick on a festival day. Let us go down and hear what is going on that we can join in. No doubt Mrs. Craig will have something on hand for to-day."
But there was nothing more exciting proposed than a ride through the streets and an invitation from the colonel to dine at some pleasant spot out of town where they could see a mass of iris in bloom.
Meantime, Mr. Harding, who had a little leisure from his duties at the legation, entertained them with stories of the festival. "I have a Japanese friend who has told me some interesting things about his boyhood," he began. "It used to be the custom to decorate the fronts of the houses with iris leaves on May fifth, at least such houses as might be the home of a boy, and in order that the lads should have a definite idea of what real fighting meant and in order to inure them to hardship they were obliged to rise at three or four o'clock on a winter morning, then, barefoot and with but one garment upon his little body, the youngster had to go to the fencing field where he had to do his best at sword play. He was not more than eight years old when he was expected to do this in order that he might learn not to fall into luxurious habits."