and Buddha-hall adjoining for the
service of the priest. The plantations of trees, the shrubberies, the
rock-work, and the mimic lakes in the garden were so beautifully
arranged as to exceed the power of an artist to depict, while the
style of the dwelling was so tasteful that it was in no way inferior
to any in the capital.

The wife and the daughter of the priest were not residing here, but
were at another mansion on the hill-side, where they had removed from
fear of the recent high tides.

Genji now took up his quarters with the priest in this seaside
mansion. The first thing he did when he felt a little settled was to
write to the capital, and tell his friends of his change of residence.
The priest was about sixty years old, and was very sincere in his
religious service. The only subject of anxiety which he felt was, as
we have already mentioned, the welfare of his daughter. When Genji
became thoroughly settled he often joined the priest, and spent hours
in conversing with him. The latter, from his age and experience, was
full of information and anecdotes, many of which were quite new to
Genji, but the narration of them seemed always to turn upon his
daughter.

April had now come. The trees began to be clothed with a thick shade
of leaves, which had a peculiar novelty of appearance, differing from
that of the flowers of spring, or the bright dyes of autumn. The Kuina
(a particular bird of summer) commenced their fluttering. The
furniture and dresses were changed for those more suitable to the time
of year. The comfort of the house was most agreeable. It was on one of
these evenings that the surface of the broad ocean spread before the
eye was unshadowed by the clouds, and the Isle of Awaji floated like
foam on its face, just as it appeared to do at Suma. Genji took out
his favorite _kin_, on which he had not practised for some time, and
was playing an air called "Korio," when the priest joined him, having
left for awhile his devotions, and said that his music recalled to his
mind the old days and the capital which he had quitted so long. He
sent for a _biwa_ (mandolin)[120] and a _soh-koto_ from the hill-side
mansion, and, after the fashion of a blind singer of ballads to the
_biwa_, played two or three airs.

He then handed the _soh-koto_ to Genji, who also played a few tunes,
saying, as he did so, in a casual manner, "This sounds best when
played upon by some fair hand." The priest smiled, and rejoined: "What