In a few minutes the big ship began to shake and the water to rush by, and we knew that we were off. Soon the sun, a great red disk--fitting national emblem of Japan!--went down in the glow of the dying day. Above the darkness, which settled on earth and sea, rose the mysterious cone of "O Fuji-San," seeming detached from all that was earthly below, a divine spirit of a mountain-top, which slowly disappeared as the night filled the heavens with stars.
As I sat in my steamer chair I had time to think again and again of the land and the people we had left behind. I remembered with pleasure the pretty, gentle women with their laughing, almond-eyed babies riding happily on their mothers' backs, and recalled with admiration the Spartan men, so loyal to their country. Closing my eyes I seemed to see the quaint little streets, lined on either side with paper houses, in front of which gay toys were displayed for sale. Industrious workmen, making curious objects with their deft fingers, sat in their doorways, and painters also, designing fantastic animals of the imagination. Once I seemed to catch the perfume of the plum blossoms, and with it I dreamed of golden temples on the hillside and thought I heard a Buddhist priest muttering to himself, "All beings are only dreaming in this fleeting world of unhappiness."
Mixed in the fantastic medley of this dream passed the animals of the years--the strutting cock of 1912, the stolid bullock of 1913, and in the distance the crouching tiger of the year to come. Then I saw the little apes of Nikko, sitting motionless before me--Mizaru, who sees no evil, Kikazaru, who hears no evil, and Mazaru, who speaks no evil. Above them all flew the H-oo, the guiding bird of good omen, which only appears to herald the coming of peace and prosperity. May he bring them both to Japan!
[Illustration: THE LITTLE APES OF NIKKO.]
Many times since, on looking back, it has seemed as if Dai Nippon must be all a dream--a fairy island, perhaps, conjured out of the sea by some mighty giant. I often wonder if it did not truly sink into the sea beneath the red eye of the setting sun.
When I am troubled about this, I get out Osame's letter and read it again. It came to us soon after we reached home, and is very reassuring. In order that you, too, may know that Japan is real, I will let you read it.