 Chapter 8 of Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan. Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan by Richard Gordon Smith. A Miraculous Sword About the year 110 B.C., there lived a brave prince known in Japanese history as Yamato Daki no Mikoto. Footnote, Yamato Daki no Mikoto, one of the eighty children of the Emperor Keiko, was a great hero of the prehistoric age. While yet a stripling, he was sent by his father to destroy the rebels of western Japan. In order to accomplish this end, he borrowed the gown of his aunt, who was high priestess of Issu, and thus disguised made the rebel chieftains fall in love with him while carousing in the cave where they dwelt. Then suddenly drawing a sword from his bosom, he smote them to death. He next subdued the province of Ismo, and finally conquered eastern Japan, which was at that time a barbarous waste. After many adventures, both warlike and amorous, he died on the Homeward March to Yamato, where the Emperor, his father, held court. Footnote, Yamato Daki no Mikoto, one of the eighty children of the prehistoric age. He was a great warrior, as was his son, who is said to have been a husband to the Empress Jingo. I presume a second one, for it could not have been the Emperor who was assassinated before the Empress' conquest of Korea. However, that does not very much matter to my story, which is merely the legend attached to the miraculous sword known as the Kasangi no Surugi, the grass-cutting sword, which is held as one of the three sacred treasures and is handed down from father to son in the imperial family. The sword is kept at the Asuwa Shrine in Awari Province. At the date given by my interpreter, 110 BC, I should add, or thereabouts, allowing large margins, Yamato Daki no Mikoto had been successful at all events in suppressing the revolutionists known as the Kumaso in Kyushu. Being a man of energy and possessing a strong force of trained men, he resolved that he would suppress the revolutionists up on the northeastern coasts. Before starting, Yamato Daki no Mikoto thought he should go to east to worship in the temples to pray for divine aid and to call on an aunt who lived near. Yamato Daki spent five or six days with his aunt, Princess Yamato Him, to whom he announced his intention of subduing the rebels. She presented him with her greatest treasure, the miraculous sword, and also with a tinder and flint box. Before parting with her nephew, Yamato Him no Mikoto said, This sword is the most precious thing which I could give you and will guard you safely through all dangers. Value it accordingly, for it will be one of the sacred treasures. Legend says that, in the age of the gods, Susan Ono Mikoto once found an old man and a woman weeping bitterly, because a mammoth eight-headed snake had devoured seven of their daughters, and there remained only one more whom they felt sure the eighth serpent's head would take. Susan Ono Mikoto asked if they would give him the daughter if he killed the snake, to which they gladly assented. Susan No filled eight buckets with sake wine, and put them where the serpent was likely to come, and hiding himself in the vicinity awaited events. The monster came, and the eight heads drank the eight buckets full of sake, and became naturally dead, drunk. Susan No then dashed in, and cut the beast to bits. In the tail he found a sword, the celebrated and miraculous sword. Kusangi no Surgi, the grass-cutting sword of our story. After bidding farewell to Yamato Him No Mikoto, the prince took his departure, setting out for the province of Surgruga on the eastern coast, to find what he could hear, it being in a turbulent state, and it was there that he ran into his first danger, and that his enemies laid a trap for him through their knowledge that he was fond of hunting. There were some immense rush plains in Surgruga, province where now stands the village of Yitsu-Mura. Yeta means Burning Fields. It was resolved by the rebels that one of them should go and invite Yamato Daki to come out and hunt, while they were to scatter and hide themselves in the long grass, until the guide should lead him into their midst, when they would jump up and kill him. Accordingly they sent to Yamato Daki a plausible and clever man, who told him that there were many deer on the grass plains. Would he come and hunt them? The man volunteered to act as guide. The invitation was tempting, and, as he had found the country less rebellious than he had expected, the prince accepted. When the morning arrived the prince, in addition to carrying his hunting-bow, carried the sword given him by his aunt, the princess Yamato. The day was windy, and it was thought by the rebels that as the rushes were so dry it would be more sure and less dangerous to themselves to fire the grass, for it was certain that the guide would make the prince hunt up wind, and if they fired the grass properly the flames would rush with lightning speed towards him and be absolutely safe for themselves. Yamato Daki did just as they had expected. He came quietly on, suspecting nothing. Suddenly the rushes took fire in front and at the sides of him. The prince realized that he had been betrayed. The treacherous guide had disappeared. The prince stood in danger of suffocation and death. The smoke, dense and choking, rushed along with rapidity and great roaring. Yamato Daki tried to run for the only gap, but was too late. Then he began cutting the grass with his sword to prevent the fire from reaching him. He found that whatever direction he cut in with his sword the wind changed to that direction. If to the north he cut the wind changed to the south and prevented the fire from advancing further. If to the south the wind changed to the north and so on. Taking advantage of this Yamato Daki retaliated upon his enemies. He got fire from his aunt's tinderbox and where there was no fire in the rushes he lit them, cutting through the grass at the same time in the direction in which he wished the fire to go. Rushing thus from point to point he was successful in the endeavor to turn the tables on his enemies and destroyed them all. It is important to note that there is in existence a sword said to be this sword in the Atsuah Shrine Owari Province. A great festival in honor of it is held on June 21 every year. From that place Yamato Daki no Mikoto went on to Segami Province. Finding things quiet there he took a ship to cross to Kazua Province accompanied by a lady he deeply loved who was given the title of Hime Princess because of Yamato Daki's rank. Her name was Takibana. They had not got more than ten miles from shore when a terrible storm arose. The ship threatened to go down. This, said Takibana Hime, is the doing of one of the sea goddesses who thirst for men's lives. I will give her mine, my lord, perhaps that may appease her until you have safely crossed the wicked sea. Without further warning Takibana Hime cast herself into the sea, the waves closed over her head to the concertation and grief of all and to the breaking of Yamato Daki's heart. As Takibana Hime had expected, the sea goddess was appeased. The wind went down, the water calmed, and the ship reached Kazua Province in safety. Yamato Daki went, as far as Yizou, putting down small rebellions on the way. Several years afterwards, accompanied by many of his old officers, he found himself back on the side of a hill in Sagami Province, overlooking the place where her Takibana Hime had given up her life for him by throwing herself into the sea. The prince gazed sadly at the sea, and thrice exclaimed, with tears flowing down his cheeks, brave though he was, Azuma Waya, alas, my dearest wife, and Eastern Japan, about the middle, has since then been called Azuma. End of Chapter 8 Recording by Linda Ray Nielsen, Vancouver, B.C. Chapter 9 Of Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Linda Ray Nielsen, Vancouver, B.C. Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan by Richard Gordon Smith The Procession of Ghosts Footnote Somewhere between the years 1400 and 1550 there lived a family of celebrated painters covering three generations and consequently difficult to be accurate about. There were Tosa Mitsunobu, Kano Mitsunobu, and Hasegawa Mitsunobu. Sometimes Toso Mitsunobu signed his pictures as Fujiwara Mitsunobu. When to this I add that there were other celebrated painters, Kano Masanobu, Kano Motonobu. Besides their families, imitators, and name foragers. You will realize the difficulties into which one may fall in fixing on names and dates. But as usual I have been placed safely on high ground by a kind friend, H.E. Mr. Hattori, the governor whose knowledge of art is great. Undoubtedly it was Tosa Mitsunobu who painted the picture known as the Hayaki Yakku, or as the One Hundred Ghosts Procession, which is celebrated and has served as a map of instruction in the drawing of hobgoblins and ghosts, spooks, iris, or whatever you may choose to call them. As far as I can judge, the picture was painted about the end of the first half of the 15th century. And note, some four or five hundred years ago there was an old temple not far from Fushimi near Kyoto. It was called the Sojini Temple and had been deserted for many years, priests fearing to live there on account of the ghosts which were said to haunt it. Still no one had ever seen the ghosts. No doubt the story came into the people's minds from the fact that the whole of the priests had been killed by a large band of robbers many years beyond the memory of men. For the sake of loot, of course. So great a horror did this strike into the minds of all that the temple was allowed to rot and run to ruin. One year a priest, a pilgrim, and a stranger passed by the temple and, not knowing its history, went in and sought refuge from the weather, instead of continuing his journey to Fushimi. Having cold rice in his wallet, he felt that he could not do better than pass the night there. For though the weather might be cold, he would at all events save drenching the only clothes which he had, and be well off in the morning. The good man took up his quarters in one of the smaller rooms, which was in less bad repair than the rest of the place, and after eating his meal said his prayers and lay down to sleep, while the rain fell in torrents on the roof, and the wind howled through the creaky buildings. Try as he might, the priest could not sleep, for the cold drafts chilled him to the marrow. Somewhere about midnight, the old man heard weird and unnatural noises. They seemed to proceed from the main building. Prompted by curiosity, he arose, and when he got to the main building, he found Hayaki Yakko, meaning a procession of one hundred ghosts, a term, I believe, which has been generally applied to a company of ghosts. The ghosts fought, wrestled, danced, and made merry. Though greatly alarmed at first, our priest became interested. After a few moments, however, more awful spirit-like ghosts came on the scene. The priest ran back to the small room in which he barred himself, and he spent the rest of the night saying masses for the souls of the dead. At daybreak, though the weather continued wet, the priest departed. He told the villagers what he had seen, and they spread the news so widely that within three or four days the temple was known as the worst haunted temple in the neighborhood. It was at this time that the celebrated painter, Tasa Mitsunobu, heard of it. Having ever been anxious to paint a picture of Hayaki Yakko, he thought that a sight of the ghosts in Shouzenji Temple might give him the necessary material. So off to Fushimi and Shouzenji, he started. Mitsunobu went straight to the temple at dusk, and sat up all night in no very happy state of mind, but he saw no ghosts and heard no noise. Next morning he opened all the windows and doors and flooded the main temple with light. No sooner had he done this than he found the walls of the place covered, as it were, with the figures or drawings of ghosts of indescribable complexity. There were far more than two hundred and all different. Could he but remember them? That was what Tosa Mitsunobu thought. Drawing his notebook and brush from his pocket, he proceeded to take them down minutely. This occupied the best part of the day. During his examination of the outlines of the various ghosts and goblins which he had drawn, Mitsunobu saw that the fantastic shapes had come from cracks in the damp, deserted walls. These cracks were filled with fungi and mildew, which in their turn produced the toning, coloring, and eventually the figures from which he compiled his celebrated picture, Hayaki Yakko. Footnote. It is well known that certain fungi and mildews produce phosphorescent light amid certain circumstances. No doubt the priest saw the cracks in the wall amid these circumstances, and the noise he heard was made by rats. I once read a story about a haunted country house in England, the ghost in which was evidently found to be a luminous fungus. In footnote. Grateful was he to the imaginative priest whose stories had led him to the place. Without him never would the picture have been drawn. Never could the horrible aspects of so many ghosts and goblins have entered the mind of one man, no matter how imaginative. My painter's illustration gives a few, copied from a first-hand copy of Mitsunobu's. End of Chapter 9. Recording by Linda Ray Nielsen, Vancouver, B.C. Chapter 10 of Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Melanie Jensen. Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan by Richard Gordon Smith. A Faithful Servant. The reign of Emperor Angi, which began in the year 901 A.D. There lived a man whose name has ever since been celebrated on account of his beautiful writings, poetic and other. He was the emperor's great favorite, and consequently, he was the strong man of the day. His name was Sugabara Michizune. Needless to say, it was not very long before, with all these things in his favor, he was the head of the government, living in luxury. Things went well enough for a time, but the inevitable came at last. Not all the people agreed with Michizune's ideas or his politics. Secret enemies lurked at every corner. Among them was one particularly bad man named Tokihira, whose poisonous intrigues at court were constant. Tokihira held a government position under Michizune and hated him in his heart, thinking that if he could but arrange to get Michizune into the bad graces of the emperor, he himself might become leader of the government. Michizune was a man with whom little fault could be found, and so it came to pass that Tokihira was unable to find any cause for starting evil reports about him. But as time went on, he became more determined to do evil in the end. At last an opportunity arrived. Tokihira, who had many secret agents trying to discover something to be reported to the emperor against Michizune, heard a statement that Prince Toki, Tokinomiya, had fallen secretly in love with the beautiful daughter of Michizune, and that they held secret meetings. Tokihira was overjoyed at the news, and went straight away to the emperor, who received him, hearing that he had a marvelous tale of intrigue to tell. Your Majesty, said Tokihira, much as I grieve to tell it, a serious plot is about. Sugawara Michizune has so arranged it that your Majesty's younger brother, Prince Toki, has fallen in love with his daughter. Deeply, as I regret to say it, they hold secret meetings. Moreover, Michizune, your Majesty's premier, is scheming that your Majesty may be assassinated, at least dethroned, in favor of Prince Toki, who is to marry Michizune's daughter. Naturally, the emperor's anger was infuriated. He was a good and sound monarch, and he had ruled the people, with the aid of Michizune, fairly, firmly, and well. He had looked upon Michizune as a personal friend, and to think of Michizune conspiring his assassination, or at all events so scheming as to place Prince Toki on the throne, and to marry his own daughter to the prince, was more than he could stand. He sent for Michizune. Michizune protested his innocence. True it was, he said, that the prince had fallen in love with his daughter, but that was not much to be wondered at. His daughter was beautiful. The prince and she were much of the same age, and had seen much of each other from their childhood. Now that they had grown older, they found that their friendship had turned to love. It was all. It was not easy for a prince of the blood royal to meet the lady of his heart quite so openly as another might, and, no doubt, they had met, for his daughter had told him so. As to the plot asserted by Tokiira, that was absolutely fanciful, and it was an astonishment to hear of so dastardly an accusation. Tokiira perceived the temper of the emperor. By loud words and unscrupulous lies he upset all the unfortunate Michizune's protests, and the emperor ordered Michizune to be sent for the rest of his life to Tsukushi, in the island of Kyushu. Accompanied only by his faithful servant Matsuo, Michizune went into exile. The punishment of Michizune, unjust as it was, broke up the employment of many others. All those who had been closely associated with him were dismissed. Among them was Takebayashi Genzo, who had been one of Michizune's chief attendants. Genzo had been one of Michizune's literary pupils. Consequently, it is not astonishing that on losing employment, Genzo fled to a small town, and out of duty took with him Michizune's wife and young son Kansushai, aged ten. All changed their names, and Genzo, to support them as well as his own family, established a small school. Thus it was that for some time Kansushai escaped the wicked designs against his life that had been planned by Tokihira. Matsuo, the faithful servant who had followed his master Michizune into banishment, heard of a vile plot to assassinate his master's son, and after many weary days of thought as to how he could prevent it, he perceived that the only way would be to sacrifice his own son instead. First he told his banished master of his intention, and having obtained leave, he journeyed back to Kyoto and sought out Tokihira himself, to whom he offered his services both as a servant and as a hunter of Michizune's son, Kansushai. Tokihira readily engaged him, thinking now that he would be sure to find the boy whom he wished to have beheaded. Tokihira had taken the place of Michizune in the emperor's favor and had great power. His will was almost law. So well did Matsuo play his part in Tokihira's household and among his servants, it was not long before they were all agreed that Matsuo was most faithful to his new master, and the greatest confidence was placed in him. Shortly after this it came to the knowledge of Tokihira that Kansushai was hidden under a different name in the school which belonged to Genzo. Genzo was ordered to send the boy's head to Tokihira within forty-eight hours. Matsuo, ever faithful, hearing of this, went to Genzo's school in disguise and disclosed to the schoolmaster whom readily assented his scheme for saving Kansushai. Then Matsuo sent his son, Kotaro, to Genzo's school from which he never returned alive, poor boy. And though, in honor, be it said, Genzo did not like the killing of this boy, it steeled his nerves for the sake of his former master and now to save Kansushai's life. With one blow of his sword he took off the innocent head. At the appointed time Tokihira's official called at the school to fetch it and they carried it back to Tokihira saying, Now Lord Tokihira, there is no longer fear for the future for Michizune's son for here is his head in this box. Si, and here is the schoolmaster, Takabayashi Genzo, who followed your lordship's orders and cut it off. Tokihira was pleased but not perfectly assured that the head was the right one. So, knowing that Matsuo had previously been employed by Michizune and that he must know if it were Kansushai's head or not, he called him, ordering him to take the head out of the box and identify it. Poor Matsuo, imagine his feelings at having to draw his only son Kotaro's head from the box and hold it up by the hair and assure the Lord Tokihira that it was indeed the head of Kansushai, Michizune's son. He did so, however, with great nerve and splendid fortitude, thus saving the life of Kansushai and fulfilling his duty to his banished master Michizune. Matsuo's fidelity is still adored by those who know the story. Not long after a terrible thunderstorm came over Kyoto, a Thunderbolt crashed through Tokihira's palace and killed him. To this day people say that Michizune's spirit came down in the shape of that Thunderbolt to be avenged. For more information or to volunteer, please visit leapervox.org Recording by Linda Marie Nielsen, Vancouver, B.C. Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan by Richard Gordon Smith Prince Hosokawa's most valuable title, Deeds. Footnote. Told to me by Mr. Matsuzuki and said to be perfectly true, the document in question being in possession of the present Prince Hosokawa. Endnote. Several hundred years ago there dwelt in lands of the Hosokawa, a widow and her daughter, a beautiful girl of seventeen named Kazui. O Kazui's son's father had been foully murdered some six months before, and both Kazui and her mother had made up their minds to devote their fortune and their lives to bringing the criminals to justice. In these efforts they received no help, but spent the whole of their money until at last they were almost forced to beg in the street for food. Day after day, however, they continued to pray in the temple for help, and never once lost heart or weakened in their purpose. O Kazui told her mother that were she fortunate enough to gain the affections of a man, even he should be sacrificed in the effort after vengeance. One day it came to pass that the poverty-stricken appearance of Kazui and her mother, returning as usual from praying in the temple, aroused the mirth of a party of roughs who proceeded to insult them. A handsome young samurai, Okawa Joymon, happened to come along. Drawing his sword he very soon put the roughs to flight. Having done this and bowing low he asked whom he had the honour of serving. O Kazui answered for her mother, and quickly recognized that this handsome youth was just such as she had longed to meet, so that he might fall in love and wish to help her in seeking out the murderer of her father. Therefore, not unnaturally, she encouraged him, and he fell in love with her. In the meanwhile, an old friend of Kazui's father, feeling great sorrow for her, had found a place for her in Prince Hasekawa's household, and there she won such favour in the eyes of the prince, or, as the title then was, Daimyo, that the other maids began to be jealous. It happened that one evening Okawa, now desperately in love with Okazui, in spite of being the retainer of another Daimyo, felt that he must see her at all costs. He arranged a secret meeting and eventually found his way to Kazui's apartment, still full of desire for vengeance. She seized upon the occasion to pour forth her story and implore assistance. Okawa, being a true knight errant, vowed that he would speak no more of love until he himself had hunted down and killed the murderers of Kazui's father. Just as he had finished making this vow, one of the jealous maids, who had been listening, made her presence known and rushed off to tell her mistress. What was to be done? Okawa, the retainer of another Daimyo, caught in the castle secretly conversing with one of the Hosokawa maids of honour. Surely both he and she would suffer death. Okazui was not long in thinking. She hid her lover in an old armor case. That, however, was no use. She was instantly summoned into the presence of the Daimyo, and the armor chest was carried in as well. The Daimyo, furiously angry, ordered that Okazui should be killed. Okawa spoke up. He said that she was in no way responsible for the secret meeting, and the fault was entirely his, and begged that he might be allowed to die in place of her. Moreover, he told the whole story of Kazui's life, and mentioned that her ambition in life was to avenge the death of her father. The Daimyo was greatly touched. Recognising the chivalry on both sides, he took Okawa into his own service, promising at the same time to aid them both in fulfilling their purpose. Tears of gratitude came into Okawa's eyes, and he vowed there and then to sacrifice his life for Hosokawa on the very first opportunity. After about a year had passed, a great fire broke out in the castle. It was so sudden that nothing could be done. The wind, fanning the flames, barely gave time for the people to escape, much less to carry off the family valuables. When all were clear of the burning mass, the Daimyo suddenly remembered that his title deeds would be lost, and that such a disaster would be dangerous for his family. Realising this, he jumped from his horse and was about to dash back to try and recover them, but his retainers held him, fearing that he would die. Okawa, hearing this, thought with delight that now an opportunity had come to him to save his new master and pay him for the kindness to himself and Kazui. He rushed into the burning mass, and having broken open the iron safe, seized the valuable documents. Then he found escape impossible. He was caught off by fire on all sides, and plainly saw that both he and the papers must be burned. At this moment a thought came to him, though he must be burned, possibly his body might save the documents. Drawing his short sword, he deliberately disemboweled himself and thrust the role of papers into his stomach. Then he flung himself on the flaming floor, and died. The fire went on. Poor Okawa was charred beyond recognition. When the fire was over, his body was recovered, and inside the roasted corpse was found the bloodstained roll of papers on which the Hosukawa family depended. From that time on the document has been called Hosukawa no chi daruma. The bloodstained document of the Hosukawa's. The Story of Kato Seiman In the days when Ashikaga was shogun, there served under him a night of good family, Kato Seiman, of whom he was especially fond. Things went well with Seiman. He lived in what might be almost be called a palace. Money he possessed in plenty. He had a charming wife who had borne him a son, and according to old custom he had many others who lived as wives within his mansion. There was no war in the land. Seiman found no trouble in his household. Peace and contentment reigned. He enjoyed life accordingly by feasting and so forth. Oh, that such a life could last, thought he. But fate decreed otherwise. One evening when Seiman was strolling about in his lovely garden watching the fireflies and listening to singing insects and piping toads of which he was extremely fond, he happened to pass his wife's room and to look up. There he saw his dear wife and his favorite concubine playing chess. Go, in Japanese. What struck him most was that they appeared perfectly happy and contented in each other's society. While Seiman looked, however, their hair seemed to rear up from behind in the shapes of snakes which fought desperately. This filled him with fear. Seiman, in amazement, stealthily approached in order to see better, but he found the vision just the same. His wife and the other lady, when moving their men, smiled at each other, showing every sign of great courtesy, nevertheless they remained the indistinct outlines of their hair, assuming the forms of fighting snakes. Hidu too, Seiman had thought of them as almost sisters to each other, and so outwardly had they in fact appeared. But now that he had seen the mysterious sign of the snakes, he knew that they hated each other more than could be understood by a man. He became uneasy in his mind. Until then his life had been rendered double happy because he thought his home was peaceful, but now he reflected, hatred and malice must be rampant in the house. Seiman felt as if he were a rudderless boat, being drawn towards a cataract from which no means of escape seemed possible. He spent a sleepless night in meditation, during which he decided that to run away would be the safest course in the end. Peace was all that he craved for. To obtain it he would devote himself to religious work for the rest of his life. Next morning Kato Seiman was nowhere to be found. There was consternation in the household. Men were dispatched here, there and everywhere, but Seiman could not be found. On the fifth or sixth day after the disappearance his wife reduced the establishment, but continued herself with her little son Ishidomaru to live in the house. Even the Shogunashikaga was greatly disconcerted at Seiman's disappearance. No news of him came, and time passed on until a year had gone, and then another, when Seiman's wife resolved to take Ishidomaru aged five and go in search. For five weary years they wandered about, this mother and son making inquiries everywhere, but not the slightest clue could they get, until at last one day they were staying at a village in Kishu, where they met an old man who told them that a year before he had seen Kato Seiman at the temple of Koya-san. Sure, he said, I know him, for I was once a Palliquan bearer for the Shogun, and often and often saw Seiman-san. I cannot say if he is at the temple, but he was a priest there a year ago. For Ishidomaru and his mother there was but little sleep that night. They were in a fever of excitement. Ishidomaru was now eleven years of age and was most anxious to have his father at home. Both mother and son, happy after their long years of searching, eagerly looked forward to the morrow. Unfortunately, according to ancient regulations, Koya-san temple and mountain were only for men. No woman was allowed to ascend to worship the image of Buddha on this mountain. Thus Ishidomaru's mother had to remain in the village while he went in quest of his father. At daybreak he started, full of hope, and telling his mother not to fear. I will bring back father this very evening, said he, and how happy we shall all be, farewell for the time being, and fear not for me. So saying Ishidomaru went off. True, he said, I do not know my father by sight, but he has a black mole over his left eye, and so have I. Besides, I feel that it is my father I am going to meet. With that, and such other thoughts in his mind, the boy plotted upwards through the tall and gloomy forests, stopping here and there at some wayside shrine to pray for success. Higher and higher Ishidomaru climbed. Koya-san is near eleven hundred feet in height, until he reached the outer gates of the temple, of which the true name is Kangobuji. For Koya-san means only Koya Mountain. Arrived at the first priest's house, Ishidomaru aspired an old man mumbling prayers. Please, sir, said he, doffing his hat and bowing low, could you tell me if there is a priest here called Kato Seiman? Greatly, should I be obliged if you could direct me to him? He has only been a priest for five years. For all that time my dear mother and myself have been in search of him. He is my father, and we both love him much, and wish him to come back to us. Ah, my lad, I feel sorry for you," answered Seiman, for it was indeed he. I know of no man called Kato Seiman in these temples. Delivering himself of this speech, Seiman showed considerable emotion. He fully recognized that the boy he was addressing was his son, and he was under sore distress to deny him thus, and not to recognize and take him to his heart. But Seiman had made up his mind that the rest of his life should be sacrificed for the sake of Buddha and that all worldly things should be cast aside. Ishidomaru and his wife needed no money for food, but were well provided for, thus he need not trouble on those grounds. Seiman determined to remain as he was a poor monk, hidden in the monastery on Koyosan. With a desperate effort he continued, I don't remember ever hearing of a Kato Seiman's having been here, though of course I have heard of the Kato Seiman, who was the great friend of the Shogun Ashikaga. Ishidomaru was not at all satisfied with this answer. He felt, somehow or other, that he was in the presence of his father. Moreover the priest had a black mole over his left eye, and he, Ishidomaru, had one exactly the same. Sir, said he, again addressing the priest, my mother has always particularly drawn my attention to the mole over my left eye, saying my son, your father has such a mark over his left eye, the exact counterpart. Now remember this, for when you go forth to seek him, that this will be a sure sign to you. You, sir, have the exact mark that I have, and I know and feel that you are my father. With that tears came into the eyes of Ishidomaru, and out stretching his arms he cried, Father, Father, let me embrace you. Seiman trembled all over with emotion, but haughtily held up his head, and recovering himself, said, my lad, there are many men and many boys who have moles over their left eyebrows, and even over their right. I am not your father. You must go elsewhere to seek him. At this moment the chief priest came and called Seiman to the evening services, which were held in the main temple. Thus it was that Seiman preferred to devote his life to Buddha, and, as Mitsu Matsuzaki tells me, to emulate Buddha, rather than return to the ways of the world or to his family or even to recognize his one and only son. My sympathies are with Ishidomaru, of whom, as his poor mother, we are told nothing further. To end in Mr. Matsuzaki's words, what became of Ishidomaru and his mother is not known, but is told to this day that Ketu Seiman passed the rest of his life in peace and purity, entirely sacrificing his body and soul to Buddha, and did these things without any person to mourn over him, but in perfect contentment. In the third book of Sir Edwin Arnold's Light of Asia are the following verses, which were addressed to Buddha when he was a prince, by the winds. We are the voices of the wandering wind. Wander thou too, O Prince, I rest to find. Leave, love, for love of lovers, for woes' sake, quit state for sorrow and deliverance make. So say we, passing over the silver strings, to thee who knowest not yet of earthly things, so say we, mocking as we pass away, those lovely shadows wherewith thou dost play. No one, I feel sure, will fail to agree with me that Seiman appears as a weak, selfish and unheroic personage, not as a hero, much less as a Buddha. Footnote. Told to being by Mr. Matsuzaki I cannot say that I think much of this story. Seiman is made a hero, but he must appear to most as rather cowardly and no creature. I remarked upon this to Mr. Matsuzaki, saying I do not see that the story is finished. You make Seiman out a model person, whereas to me he appears the worst one in the story. Surely the wife and son should have come out as the good people. But you laud and praise Seiman for leaving his family, and refusing to recognize them when they had no sin against themselves. I do not admit the Mr. Matsuzaki. It is the same as the Lord Buddha. He always left his wife and devoted his life to religious affairs, just as Seiman did. I could not agree with this. Buddha was Buddha, a benefactor and helper to the whole of Asia. Seiman was a poor, miserable weakling who simply sought personal peace. As far as the story goes, I defy anybody to find him a hero, or a person who in any way can go from an entirely Japanese point of view. The story however is a quite celebrated one referred to in many Japanese books. So Mr. Matsuzaki tells me. End of footnote. End of Chapter 12 Chapter 13 of Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer support, please visit our website. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Chapter 16 of Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Linda Marie Nielsen, Vancouver, B.C. Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan by Richard Gordon Smith. Murakami Yoshitiru's Faithfulness. Murakami Yoshitiru, we shall call him Yoshitiru for short, was one of the faithful retainers of Prince Mori Inga, third son of the Emperor God Ego, who reigned from 1319 to 1339. When I say reigned, I mean that God Ego was Emperor, but there was a regent at the time, Hojo Takaktori, who ruled with harshness and great selfishness. With the exception of young Prince Mori Inga, the Imperial family appeared to take things easily. They preferred quietude and comfort to turbulence and quarreling. Prince Mori Inga was different. Fiery tempered and proud, he thought that Hojo Takaktori was usurping the Emperor's rights. The man, he said, was nothing more by birth than one of the Emperor's subjects, and had no business to be made regent. Naturally these opinions led to trouble, and it was not very long before Prince Mori Inga was obliged to leave the capital suddenly, with his followers, of whom there were some hundreds, not enough to fight Hojo Takaktori at the time. Prince Mori Inga had made up his mind that it would be better to live independently in Yamato than to be under the sway of Hojo Takaktori, as were his father and his elder brothers, having collected the most faithful of his followers, of whom the most notable was the hero of our story, Murakami Yoshitiru. The Prince left the capital in disguise and started for Yoshino in Yamato. There, in the Wild Mountains, he intended to build a castle in which to dwell for the rest of his days, independent of the regent, whom he held in much loathing. Prince Mori Inga carried with him an imperial flag, which, he expected, would gain for him sympathy and help even in the wild Yamato province, though from Kito the then capital to the borders of Yamato is, in a direct line, only about thirty miles. The whole country is mountainous and wild, roads are nonexistent, mountain paths taking their place. Consequently it was noon on the fifth day before the Prince found himself at a little border village called Imogase. Here he found his way blocked, as it were by a guard house, the soldiery of which had been chosen from among Imogase villagers, headed by one shoji, a rough and disagreeable man. When Prince Mori Inga and his party of about eighty followers dressed as Yamabushi fighting monks arrived, flying the standard they were called to a halt by the village guard, and told that they could go no farther into Yamato without leaving one of themselves as hostage. The Prince was too haughty to speak to the villagers and explain, and unfortunately Murakami Yoshitiru, his most trusted leader, could not be found, for he had remained some miles behind to gather straw and make a new pair of waraji straw shoes. Soji, leader of the Imogase villagers, was firm in his demand that one of the parties should be left behind until their return. For some twenty minutes matters stood thus, neither side wanted to fight. At last Soji said, Well, you may say that you are a prince. I am a simple villager, and I don't know. You may carry the imperial flag, but when you are dressed like Yamabushi, it does not look exactly as you were a prince. As I don't want trouble, and you want to pass without trouble, my orders being that out of all parties over ten armed people I am to hold one as a hostage. The only suggestion that I can make is that I keep as hostage this imperial flag. The Prince, glad enough to save leaving one of his faithful followers, gave the standard to Soji as a hostage, and then he and his party were allowed into Yamato. They proceeded on their way, not half an hour after they had passed. Murakami Yoshitiru arrived at the guardhouse, having made himself a pair of straw shoes, to take the place of his old ones, and his surprise at seeing his master's flag in such low hands was equaled by his anger. What is the meaning of this? he asked. Soji explained what had happened. On hearing the story, Murakami lost control of his temper. He flew into a violent passion. He reviled Soji and his men as a set of low black guards, who scarcely had a right to look at the imperial standard of Japan, much less to dare to touch it, and with that he began a general assault on the village guard, killing three or four and putting the rest to flight. Murakami then seized the standard and ran on with it until, towards evening, he came up with the Prince and his party who were overjoyed at what he had done at the recovery of the flag. Two days later the party reached Yoshino and in the vicinity of this place they built a fortress where for some months they dwelt in peace. It was not long, however, before the regent heard of the Prince's whereabouts and he soon sent a small army after him. For two days the fort was desperately attacked. On the third the outer gates were taken. Two-thirds of the Prince's men were dead. Murakami had been wounded three times and his life could not last long. Faithful to the end he rushed to his Prince saying, Master, I am wounded unto death. In less than half an hour our enemies will have conquered us, for we have but few men left. Your Highness is unwounded and can't in disguise escape when end comes. Give me quick your armor and let me pretend that I am your Highness. I will show our enemies how a Prince can die. Changing clothes hastily and donning the Prince's armor Murakami, bleeding badly from his wounds and already more dead than alive with weakness from the loss of blood regained the wall and struggling up the last steps he reached a point where he could see and be seen by the whole of the enemy. I am Prince Moringa, shouted he. Fate is against me, though I am in the right. Sooner or later Heaven's punishment will come down on you. Until then my curses upon you and take a lesson as to how a Prince can die emulating it if you dare when your time comes. With this Murakami Yoshitiru drew his sword across his abdomen and seizing his quivering entrails he flung them into the midst of his enemies his dead body falling directly afterwards. His head was taken to the region in Kito as the head of Prince Moringa who escaped a plot in the future. End of chapter 16 Recording by Linda Marie Nielsen Vancouver, B.C. Chapter 17 of Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Josh Kibbe Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan by Richard Gordon Smith Story of Okie Islands The Okie Islands, some 45 miles from the mainland of Hoki Province were for centuries the scene of strife, of sorrow, and of banishment but today they are fairly prosperous and highly peaceful. Fish, octopus, and cuttlefish form the main exports. They are a weird, wild, and rocky group, difficult of access and few indeed are the Europeans who have visited them. I know of only two, the late Lefkadeo Hearn and Mr. Anderson, who was there to collect animals for the Duke of Bedford. I myself sent Oto, my Japanese hunter, who was glad to return. In the Middle Ages, that is from about the year 1000 A.D., there was much fighting over the islands by various chieftains and many persons were sent thither in banishment. There was much fighting over the islands by various chieftains and many persons were sent thither in banishment. In the year 1239, Hojo Yoshitoshi defeated the emperor Go Toba and banished him to Dogen Island. Another Hojo chieftain banished another emperor, Go Daigo, to Nishinoshima. Oriba Shima, the hero of our story, was probably banished by the same Hojo chieftain, whose name is given to me as Takatoki, Hojo, and the date of the story must be about 1320 A.D. At the time when Hojo Takatoki reigned over the country with absolute power, there was a samurai whose name was Oriba Shima. By some misfortune, Oriba, as we shall call him, had offended Hojo Takatoki and had consequently found himself banished to one of the islands of the oki group which was then known as Kamashima, Holy Island. So the relator of the story tells me, but I doubt his geographical statement and think the island must have been Nishinoshima, island of the west or west island. Since writing this, I have found that there is a very small island called Kamashima between the two main islands of the oki archipelago, southwest of the eastern island. Oriba had a beautiful daughter, aged 18, of whom he was as fond as she was of him, and consequently the banishment and separation rendered both of them doubly miserable. Her name was Tokoyo, O Tokoyo-san. Tokoyo, left at her old home in Shima province, Isa, wept from mourn till eve and sometimes from eve till mourn. At last, unable to stand the separation any longer, she resolved to risk all and try to reach her father or die in the attempt. For she was brave, as are most girls of Shima province, where the women have much to do with the sea. As a child, she had loved to die with the women whose daily duty is to collect a wabi and pearl oyster shells, running with them the risk of life in spite of her higher birth and failure body. She knew no fear. Having decided to join her father, O Tokoyo sold what property she could dispose of and set out on her long journey to the far-off province of Hoki, which after many weeks she reached, striking the sea at a place called Akasaki, whence on clear days the islands of Hoki can be dimly seen. Immediately she set to and tried to persuade the fisherman to take her to the islands, but nearly all her money had gone and, moreover, no one was allowed to land at the Oki Islands in those days, much less to visit those who had been banished thence. The fisherman laughed at Tokoyo and told her that she had better go home. The brave girl was not to be put off. She bought what stock of provisions she could afford, at night went down to the beach, and, selecting the lightest boat she could find, pushed it with difficulty into the water and sculled as hard as her tiny arms would allow her. Fortune sent a strong breeze, and the current was also in her favor. Next evening, more dead than alive, she found her efforts crowned with success. Her boat touched the shore of Araki Bay. O Tokoyo sought a sheltered spot and lay down to sleep for the night. In the morning she awoke much refreshed, ate the remainder of her provisions, and started to make inquiries as to her father's whereabouts. The first person she met was a fisherman. No, he said, I have never heard of your father, and if you take my advice you will not ask for him if he has been banished, for it may lead you to trouble and him to death. Poor O Tokoyo wandered from one place to another, subsisting on charity, but never hearing a word of her father. One evening she came to a little cape of rocks whereon stood a shrine. After bowing before Buddha and employing his help to find her dear father, O Tokoyo lay down intending to pass the night there, for it was a peaceful and holy spot, well sheltered from the winds, which, even in summer, as it was now, the 13th of June, blow with some violence all around the Yoki Islands. Tokoyo had slept about an hour when she heard, in spite of the dashing of waves against the rocks, a curious sound, the clapping of hands and the bitter sobbing of a girl. As she looked up in the bright moonlight she saw a beautiful person of 15 years sobbing bitterly. Besiders did a man who seemed to be the shrinekeeper or priest. He was clapping his hands and mumbling, Namu Amirabutsu. Both were dressed in white. When the prayer was over the priest led the girl to the edge of the rocks and was about to push her over into the sea when O Tokoyo came to the rescue, rushing at and seizing the girl's arm just in time to save her. The old priest looked surprised at the intervention, but there was no way anger to put about and explained as follows. It appears from your intervention that you are a stranger to this small island. Otherwise you would know that the unpleasant business upon which you find me is not at all to my liking or to the liking of any of us. Unfortunately, we are cursed with an evil god in this island whom we call Yofunenushi. He lives at the bottom of the sea and demands once a year a girl just under 15 years of age. This sacrificial offering has to be made on June 13th day of the dog between 8 and 9 o'clock in the evening. If our villagers neglect this, Yofunenushi becomes angered and causes great storms which drown many of our fishermen. By sacrificing one young girl annually much is saved. For the last seven years it has been my sad duty to superintend the ceremony and it is that which you have now interrupted. O Takoyo listen to the end of the priest's explanation and then said, Holy monk, if these things be as you say, it seems that there is sorrow everywhere. Let this young girl go and say that she may stop her weeping for I am more sorrowful than she and will willingly take her place and offer myself to Yofunenushi. I am the sorrowing daughter of Uribashima, a samurai of high rank who has been exiled to this island. It is in search of my dear father that I have come here. But he is so closely guarded that I cannot get to him or even find out exactly where he has been hidden. My heart is broken and I have nothing more for which to wish to live and am therefore glad to save this girl. Please take this letter which is addressed to my father, that you should try and deliver to him is all I ask. Saying which, Takoyo took the white robe off the younger girl and put it on herself. She then knelt before the figure of Buddha and prayed for strength and courage to slay the evil god Yofunenushi. Then she drew a small and beautiful dagger which belonged to one of her ancestors and placed it between her pearly teeth. She dived into the roaring sea and disappeared, the priest and the other girl looking after her with wonder and admiration and the girl with thankfulness. As we said at the beginning of the story, Takoyo had been brought up much among the divers of her own country in Shima. She was a perfect swimmer and knew more over something of fencing and jujitsu as did many girls of her position in those days. Takoyo swam downwards through the clear water which was illuminated by bright moonlight. Down, down she swam, passing silvery fish until she reached the bottom and there she found herself opposite a submarine cave resplendent with the phosphorescent lights issuing from awabi shells and the pearls that glittered through their openings. As Takoyo looked, she seemed to see a man seated in the cave. Fearing nothing, willing to fight and die, she approached, holding her dagger ready to strike. Takoyo took him for Yofunenushi, the evil god of whom the priest had spoken. The god made no sign of life, however, and Takoyo saw that it was no god but only a wooden statue of Hojo Takatoki, the man who had exiled her father. At first she was angry and inclined to wreak her vengeance on the statue. But after all, what would be the use of that? Better do good than evil. She would rescue the thing. Perhaps it had been made by some person who, like her father, had suffered at the hands of Hojo Takatoki. Was rescue possible? Indeed it was more. It was probable. As a perceiving, Takoyo undid one of her girdles and rounded about the statue which she took out of the cave. True, it was waterlogged and heavy, but things are lighter in the water than they are out, and Takoyo feared no trouble in bringing it to the surface. She was about to tie it on her back. However, the unexpected happened. She beheld, coming slowly out of the depths of the cavern, a horrible thing, a luminous, phosphorescent creature of the shape of a snake but with legs and small scales on its back and sides. The thing was twenty-seven or eight shaku, about twenty-six feet in length. The eyes were fiery. Takoyo gripped her dagger with renewed determination, feeling sure that this was the evil god, the Yufunenushi, that required annually a girl to be cast to him. No doubt the Yufunenushi took her for the girl that was his due. Well, she would show him who she was and kill him if she could, and so save the necessity of further annual contributions of a virgin from this poor island's few. Slowly, the monster came on, and Takoyo braced herself for the combat. When the creature was within six feet of her, she moved sideways and struck out his right eye. This so disconcerted the evil god that he turned and tried to re-enter the cavern. But Takoyo was too clever for him. Blinded by the loss of his right eye, as also by the blood which flooded into his left, the monster was slow in his movements, and thus the brave and agile Takoyo was able to do with him much as she liked. She got to the left side of him, grabbed him in the heart, and in knowing that he could not long survive the blow, she headed him off so as to prevent his gaining too far an entrance into the cave, wherein the darkness she might find herself at a disadvantage. Yufunenushi, however, was unable to see his way back to the depths of his cavern, and after two or three heavy gasps died not far from the entrance. Takoyo was pleased at her success. She felt that she had slain the god that cost the life of a girl a year to the people of the island to which she had come in search of her father. She perceived that she must take it in the wooden statue to the surface, which after several attempts she managed to do, having been in the sea for nearly half an hour. In the meantime, the priest and the little girl had continued to gaze into the water where Takoyo had disappeared, marveling at her bravery, the priest praying for her soul and the girl thinking of gods. Imagine their surprise when suddenly they noticed a struggling body rise to the surface in a somewhat awkward manner. They could not make it out at all until at last the little girl cried, Why, holy father, it is the girl who took my place and dived into the sea. I recognized my white clothes, but she seems to have a man and a huge fish with her. The priest had by this time realized that it was Takoyo who had come to the surface, and he rendered all the help he could. He dashed down the rocks and pulled her half insensible form ashore. He cast his girdle around the monster and put the carved image of Hojo Takatoki on a rock beyond reach of the waves. Soon assistance came and all were carefully removed to a safe place in the village. Takoyo was the heroine of the hour. The priest reported the whole thing to Tamayoshi, the lord who ruled the island at the time, and he in his turn reported the matter to Lord Hojo Takatoki who ruled the whole province of Hoki, which included the islands of Oki. Takatoki was suffering from some peculiar disease quite unknown to the medical experts of the day. The recovery of the wooden statue representing himself made it clear that he was laboring under the curse of someone to whom he had behaved unjustly, someone who had carved his figure, cursed it, and sunk it in the sea. Now that it had been brought to the surface he felt that the curse was over, that he would get better, and he did. On hearing that the heroine of the story was the daughter of his old enemy, Oribashima, who was confined in prison he ordered his immediate release and great were the rejoicens there at. The curse on the image of Hojo Takatoki had brought with it the evil god, Yofunenushi, who demanded a virgin of years contribution. Yofunenushi had now been slain, and the islanders feared no further trouble from storms. Oribashima and his brave daughter, O. Takoyo, returned to their own country in Chima province where the people held them with delight, and their popularity soon re-established their impoverished estates on which men were willing to work for nothing. In the island of Kamajima, Holy Island, and the Oki Archipelago, peace reigned. No more virgins were offered on June 13th to the evil god Yofunenushi whose body was buried on the cape at the shrine where our story begins. Another small shrine was built to commemorate the event. It was called the Tomb of the Sea Serpent. The wooden statue of Hojo Takatoki, after much traveling, found a resting place at home, soji, in Kamakura. End of Chapter 17 Recording by Josh Kibbe Chapter 18 of Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Read by Angelique Campbell March, 2019 Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan by Richard Gordon Smith Cape of the Woman's Sword Footnote The title to this old and hitherto untold tale is not much less curious than the story itself which was told to me by a man called Fukuka who journeys much up and down the southern coast in search of pearls and coral. End Note Down in the province of Higo are a group of large islands framing with the mainland bearable little inland seas, deep bays, and narrow channels. The whole of this is called Amaksa. There are a village called Amaksamura, a sea known as Amaksa-Omi, an island known as Amaksashima, and the cape known as Zhekin Zhekai which is the most prominent feature of them all, projecting into the Amaksa Sea. History relates that in the year 1577 the Damiyo of the province issued an order that everyone under him was to become a Christian, or be banished. During the next century this decree was reversed. Only it was ordered that the Christians should be executed. Tens of thousands of Christianized heads were collected and sent for burial to Nagasaki, Shimobara, and Amaksa. This, repeated from Murray, has not much to do with my story. After all, it is possible that at the time the Amaksa people became Christian the sword in question, being in some temple, was with the gods, cast into the sea, and recovered later by a coral or pearl diver in the Baruku period which lasted from 1592 to 1596. A history would naturally spring from a sword so recovered, but in the story, the cape of Zoukenzaki the woman's sword cape was not always so called. In former years before the Baruku period it had been called Furuzaki. Udo is the god of fierceness always represented as surrounded by fire and holding a sword, or Furuzaki's cape. The reason of the change of names was this. The inhabitants of Amaksa lived almost entirely on what they got out of the sea so that when it came to pass that for two years of the Baruku period no fish came into their seas or bay, and they were sorely distressed, many actually starved, and their country was in a state of desolation. Their largest and longest nets were shot and hauled in not a single fish so large as a sardine could they catch. At last things got so bad that they could not even see fish schooling outside their bay. Peculiar rumbling sounds were occasionally hard coming from under the sea off Cape Fudu but of these they thought little being Japanese and used to earthquakes. All the people knew was that the fish had completely gone, or where why, only one day an old and much respected fisherman said, I fear my friends, that the noise we so often hear off Cape Fudu has nothing to do with earthquakes, but that the god of the sea has been displeased. One evening a few days after this a sailing junk so called Shimara owned by one Tarada who commanded her, anchored the night to the lee of Furuzaki. After having stowed their sails and made everything snug the crew pulled their beds up from below for the weather was hot and rolled them out on deck. Towards the middle of the night the captain was awakened by a peculiar rumbling sound seeming to come from the bottom of the sea. Apparently it came from the direction in which their anchor lay the rope which held it Tarada said this sound reminded him of the rowing of the falling tide and the Naruto channel between Awa and Awaji Island. Suddenly he saw towards the bowels of the junk a beautiful maid clothed in the finest of white silks he thought. She seemed however heartily real being surrounded by a glimmering haze. Tarada was not a coward. Nevertheless he roused as men where he did not quite like this. As soon as he had shaken the men to their senses he moved towards the figure which when but ten or twelve feet away addressed him in the most melodious of voices thus ah could I but be back in the world that is my only wish. Tarada astonished and frightened fell on his knees and was about to pray when a sound of rowing waters was heard again and the white clad maiden disappeared into the sea. Next morning Tarada went on shore to ask the people of Amaksa if they had ever heard of such a thing before and to tell them of his experiences. No said the village elder two years ago we never heard the noises which we hear now of Fudo Cape almost daily and we had much fish here before then but we have even now never seen the figure of the girl whom you say you saw last night. Surely this must be the ghost of some poor girl that has been drowned and the noise we hear must be made by the god of the sea who is in anger that her bones and body are not taken out of this bay where fish so much like to come before her body fouled the bottom. A consultation was held by the fishermen. They concluded that the village elder was right that someone must have been drowned in the bay and that the body was polluting the bottom. It was her ghost that it appeared on Tarada's ship and the noise was naturally caused by the angry god of the sea offended that his fish were prevented from entering the bay its uncleanness. What was to be done was quite clear. Someone must dive to the bottom in spite of the depth of water and bring the body or bones to the surface. It was a dangerous job and not a pleasant one either the bringing up of a corpse that had lain at the bottom for well over a year. As no one volunteered for the dive the villagers suggested a man who was a great swimmer a man who had all his life been dumb and consequently was a person of no value as no one would marry him and no one cared for him. His name was Sankichi or as they called him Oshino Sankichi dumb Sankichi he was 26 years of age he had always been honest he was very religious attending at the temples and shrines constantly but he kept to himself as his infirmity did not appeal to the community as soon as this poor fellow heard that in the opinion of most of them there was a dead body at the bottom of the bay which had to be brought to the surface he came forward and made signs that he would do the work or die in the attempt. What was his poor life worth in comparison with the hundreds of fishermen who lived about the bay their lives depending upon the presence of fish the fishermen consulted among themselves and agreed that they would let Oshino Sankichi make the attempt on the morrow and until that time he was the popular hero. Next day when the tide was low all the villagers assembled on the beach to give dumb Sankichi a parting cheer he was towed off to Toradas Junk and after bidding farewell to his few relations, dived into the sea off her bowels Sankichi swam until he reached the bottom passing through hot and cold currents the whole way hastily he looked and swam about but no corpse or bones did he come across at last he came to a projecting rock and on the top of that he aspired something like a sword wrapped in old brocade on grasping it he felt that it really was a sword and tying the string and drawing the blade it proved to be one of dazzling brightness with not a speck of rust it is thought Sankichi that Japan is the country of the sword in which its spirit dwells it must be the goddess of the sword that makes the roaring sound which frightens away the fishes when she comes to the surface feeling that he had secured her treasure Sankichi lost no time in returning to the surface he was promptly hauled on board the Tsukushimara amid the cheers of the villagers and his relations so long had he been under water and so benumbed was his body he promptly fainted fires were lit and his body was rubbed until he came too and gave by signs an account of his dive the head official of the neighborhood Nerusei Tsushimano-Kami examined the sword but in spite of its beauty and excellence no name could be found on the blade and the official expressed it as his opinion that the sword was a holy treasure he recommended the erection of a shrine dedicated to Fudo wherein the sword should be kept in order to guard the village against further trouble money was collected and the shrine was built Oshennousankichi was made the caretaker and lived a long and happy life the fish returned to the bay for the spirit of the sword was no longer dissatisfied by being at the bottom of the sea