e plunged back into the sea, and Urashima was left on the
land with a sense of sadness.

He looked about him, recognising the old landmarks. Then he went up into
the village; but, as he went, he noticed with some surprise that
everything seemed wonderfully changed. The hills were the same, and, in
a way, the village was familiar, but the people who passed him on the
road were not those he had known three days ago. Surely three short days
would leave him exactly where he stood before he went. Three days could
never produce this change. He was at a loss to understand it. People he
did not know--strangers in the village, he supposed--passed him by as if
he were a complete stranger. Some of them turned and looked at him as
one would look at a newcomer. Furthermore, he noticed that the slender
trees of three days since were now giant monarchs of the wayside.

At last, wondering greatly, he came to his old home. How changed it was!
And, when he turned the handle of the door and walked in, crying out,
'Ho, mother! ho, father! I have come back at last!' he was met by a
strange man barring the doorway.

'What do you want?'

'What do you mean? I live here. Where are my father and mother? They are
expecting me.'

'I do not understand. What is your name?'

'Urashima Taro.'

'Urashima Taro!' cried the man in surprise.

'Yes, that is my name: Urashima Taro!'

The man laughed, as if he saw the joke.

'You don't mean the original Urashima Taro?' he said. 'But still, you
may be some descendant of his--what?'

'I do not understand you. My name is Urashima Taro. There is no other
bears that name. I am the fisherman: surely you know me.'

The man looked at Urashima very closely to see if he were joking or not.

'There _was_ a Urashima Taro, a famous fisherman of three hundred years
ago, but you--you are joking.'

'Nay, nay, I am not joking. It is you that are joking with your three
hundred years. I left here three or four days ago, and now I have
returned. Where have my father and mother gone?'

The man stared at him aghast.

'Are you mad?' he cried. '_I_ have lived in this house for thirty years
at least, and, as for your father and mother--why, if you are really
Urashima Taro, they have been dead three hundred years; and that is
absurd. Do you want me to believe you are a ghost?'

'Not so; look at my feet.' And Urashima put out one foot and then the
other, in full accordance with the Japanese belief that ghosts have