equal social class at
home. Their manners were perfect. They stayed at the same inns as we
did--once in the next room--and behaved admirably. Every evening the
men washed their white cotton shorts and jackets--their whole costume
except for a wide-brimmed sun hat and straw _waraji_. Tied to the axle
of each _kuruma_ were several pairs of _waraji_, for on the rough hill
roads this simple form of footgear soon wears out. Discarded _waraji_
are to be seen on every roadside in Japan.

The inscriptions on some of the wayside stones we passed had been
written by priests so ignorant that the wording was either ridiculous
or almost without meaning. But there was no difficulty in deciphering
an inscription on a stone which declared that it had been erected by a
company of Buddhists who claimed to have repeated the holy name of
Amida 2,000,000 times. (The idea is that salvation may be obtained by
the repetition of the phrase _Namu Amida Butsu_.) A small stone set up
on a rock in the middle of paddy fields intimated that at that spot
"people gathered to see the moon one night every month." A third stone
was dedicated to the monkey as the messenger of a certain god, just as
the fox is regarded as the messenger of Inari.

We saw during our journey large numbers of _kiri_ (Paulownia) used for
making _geta_ and bride's chests. Some farmers seem to plant _kiri_
trees at the birth of a daughter so as to have wood for her wedding
chest or money for her outfit[129]. _Kiri_ seems to be increasingly
grown. On the other hand in the same districts lacquer trees were now
seldom planted. The farmers complained that they were cheated by the
collectors of lacquer who come round to cut the trees. The age of
cutting was given me as the eighth or ninth year, but poor farmers
sometimes allowed a young tree to be cut. A tree may be cut once a
year for three or four years. After that it is useless even for fuel,
owing to the smell it gives off, and is often left standing. The old
scarred trunks, sometimes headless, suggested the tattooed faces and
bodies of Maori veterans. As lacquer is poisonous to the skin the wood
calls for careful handling. I saw one of the itinerant lacquer
collectors, his hands wrapped in cotton, operating on a tree.

During a particularly hot run we had the good fortune to come on a
soda-water spring from which we all drank freely. A factory erected to
tap the spring was in ruins. Evidently the cost of carriage was
prohibitiv