At four the sky is cleared thereby,
At six and eight comes wind again."

THE DREAM STORY OF GOJIRO.

Only a few years ago there was a gentleman in Fukui, Japan, who had a
son, a bright lad of twelve, who was very diligent at school and had made
astonishing progress in his studies. He was especially quick at learning
Chinese characters, of which every Japanese gentleman who wishes to be
called educated must know at least two thousand. For, although the
Chinese and Japanese are two very different languages, yet the Japanese,
Coreans and Chinese use the same letters to write with, just as English,
Germans, French and Spaniards all employ one and the same alphabet.

Now Gojiro's father had promised him that when he read through five
volumes of the Nihongi, or Ancient History of Japan, he would give him
for a present a book of wonderful Chinese stories. Gojiro performed his
task, and his father kept his promise. One day on his return from a
journey to Kioto, he presented his son with sixteen volumes, all neatly
silk-bound, well illustrated with wood-cuts, and printed clearly on thin,
silky mulberry paper, from the best wooden blocks. It will be remembered
that several volumes of Japanese literature make but one of ours, as they
are much lighter and thinner than ours.

Gojiro was so delighted with the wonderful stories of heroes and
warriors, travelers and sailors, that he almost felt himself in China. He
read far into the night, with the lamp inside of his musquito curtain;
and finally fell asleep, still undressed, but with his head full of all
sorts of Chinese wonders.

He dreamed he was far away in China, walking along the banks of the great
Yellow River. Everything was very strange. The people talked an entirely
different language from his own; had on different clothes; and, instead
of the nice shaven head and top-knot of the Japanese, every one wore a
long pigtail of hair, that dangled at his heels. Even the boats were of a
strange form, and on the fishing smacks perched on projecting rails, sat
rows of cormorants, each with a ring around his neck. Every few minutes
one of them would dive under the water, and after a while come struggling
up with a fish in its mouth, so big that the fishermen had to help the
bird into the boat. The game was then flung into a basket, and the
cormorant was treated to a slice of raw fish, by way of encouragement
and to keep the bird from the bad habit of eating the