ney or in kind. Nor
was his scrupulous honesty less remarkable than his charity. While
other smiths are in the habit of earning large sums of money by
counterfeiting the marks of the famous makers of old, he was able to
boast that he had never turned out a weapon which bore any other mark
than his own. From his father and his forefathers he inherited his
trade, which, in his turn, he will hand over to his son--a
hard-working, honest, and sturdy man, the clank of whose hammer and
anvil may be heard from daybreak to sundown.
[Illustration: FORGING THE SWORD.]
The trenchant edge of the Japanese sword is notorious. It is said that
the best blades will in the hands of an expert swordsman cut through
the dead bodies of three men, laid one upon the other, at a blow. The
swords of the Shogun used to be tried upon the corpses of executed
criminals; the public headsman was entrusted with the duty, and for a
"nose medicine," or bribe of two bus (about three shillings), would
substitute the weapon of a private individual for that of his Lord.
Dogs and beggars, lying helpless by the roadside, not unfrequently
serve to test a ruffian's sword; but the executioner earns many a fee
from those who wish to see how their blades will cut off a head.
The statesman who shall enact a law forbidding the carrying of this
deadly weapon will indeed have deserved well of his country; but it
will be a difficult task to undertake, and a dangerous one. I would
not give much for that man's life. The hand of every swashbuckler in
the empire would be against him. One day as we were talking over this
and other kindred subjects, a friend of mine, a man of advanced and
liberal views, wrote down his opinion, _more Japonico_, in a verse of
poetry which ran as follows:--"I would that all the swords and dirks
in the country might be collected in one place and molten down, and
that, from the metal so produced, one huge sword might be forged,
which, being the only blade left, should be the girded sword of Great
Japan."
The following history is in more senses than one a "Tale of a Sword."
About two hundred and fifty years ago Ikeda Kunaishoyu was Lord of the
Province of Inaba. Among his retainers were two gentlemen, named
Watanabe Yukiye and Kawai Matazayemon, who were bound together by
strong ties of friendship, and were in the habit of frequently
visiting at one another's houses. One day Yukiye was sitting
conversing with Matazayemon in the house of t
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