the proverb has it, Kunshi ayayuki ni chikayorazu ['The superior man
does not needlessly expose himself to peril']; and I must assure you,
Sir, that it is very dangerous to sleep here. Therefore, although my
house is only a wretched thatched hut, let me beg of you to come home
with me at once. In the way of food, I have nothing to offer you; but
there is a roof at least, and you can sleep under it without risk."

He spoke earnestly; and Kwairyo, liking the kindly tone of the man,
accepted this modest offer. The woodcutter guided him along a narrow
path, leading up from the main road through mountain-forest. It was a
rough and dangerous path,--sometimes skirting precipices,--sometimes
offering nothing but a network of slippery roots for the foot to rest
upon,--sometimes winding over or between masses of jagged rock. But at
last Kwairyo found himself upon a cleared space at the top of a hill,
with a full moon shining overhead; and he saw before him a small
thatched cottage, cheerfully lighted from within. The woodcutter led
him to a shed at the back of the house, whither water had been
conducted, through bamboo-pipes, from some neighboring stream; and the
two men washed their feet. Beyond the shed was a vegetable garden, and
a grove of cedars and bamboos; and beyond the trees appeared the
glimmer of a cascade, pouring from some loftier height, and swaying in
the moonshine like a long white robe.

As Kwairyo entered the cottage with his guide, he perceived four
persons--men and women--warming their hands at a little fire kindled in
the ro [3] of the principle apartment. They bowed low to the priest,
and greeted him in the most respectful manner. Kwairyo wondered that
persons so poor, and dwelling in such a solitude, should be aware of
the polite forms of greeting. "These are good people," he thought to
himself; "and they must have been taught by some one well acquainted
with the rules of propriety." Then turning to his host,--the aruji, or
house-master, as the others called him,--Kwairyo said:--

"From the kindness of your speech, and from the very polite welcome
given me by your household, I imagine that you have not always been a
woodcutter. Perhaps you formerly belonged to one of the upper classes?"

Smiling, the woodcutter answered:--

"Sir, you are not mistaken. Though now living as you find me, I was
once a person of some distinction. My story is the story of a ruined
life--ruined by my own fault. I used to