THE VIVID EAST

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIX, Issue 2, 13 July 1907, Page 12

THE VIVID EAST

First Impressions of a Colonial Cleric By the Rev. JOSEPH PARKER, Home time Congrcgationalist Minister, Auckland.

BY-PATHS IN JAPAN: ATAMI. IN the course of a lifetime an indi vidiial see- many places, and travels over manv road- which are forgotten; there an*, however, some place- and road- that can never be forgotten. One of such i- \t :mi, and the way to it. Atami is between GO and 70 mile- from Idkio. I he fir-1 part of tin* journey, from Tokio to Kozu by train, and from Kozji to (Idawarn by electric car. is of the ordinal) rimae er; but from Odawara to Atami the journey is taken b) a conveyance, and through scenery which once seen or experienced will never Im* forgotten. The conveyance is known as the Jinsha Railway, or Man Power d ram. I he car is about six feet in height, and between four and live wide; four persons (*.in sit in one with a fair amount of comfort. I’he one I travelled by had six inside passenger- with their luggage and two alternately walking and clinging out-ide. To each car there are three coolies, who push up the hills with great toil, divested of every possible stitch of • lolhing. With the perspiration streaming from every pore of their bodies, these men push and push, and yet have enough

-1 length and good nature left to joke and laugh merrily the while. As each eminence is gained the pushers hurriedly throw a garment round their shoulders, ami take up their positions on steps, two at the back ami in front of the car to use the break. With an extra push to increase the momentum, away goes the living conveyance along its two foot line, jumping, swaying, at the rate of 2(1 or 30 miles an hour; while every moment the mystery deepens with one that the car does not leave its narrow track. When (‘limbing the hills all one’s sympathies go out Io the perspiring coolies; but when Hying down the declines all one's thoughts are of a selfish character. The experience would be trying enough if there were big trees or high embankments on cither side, but let it be remembered that for the most part the line follows the contour of the coast, and that again and again the traveller may look out from the window of his car sheer down KKI to 200 feet to the rocks and boiling surf below. As the flying car turns a corner there seems Io he absolutely nothing to prevent it from faking a terrible leap over the yawning precipice just three feet away, .did yet within IS inches of the edge it will turn in prompt obedience to the curved rail, and so on

and on until I he race is over, and another climb begins. Alter having hail the experience. my sympathies are all with the lady whom I saw calmly allowing her husband to arrange with six rickshaw men to take their luggage and themselves from Alami, so as to avoid that toiling, living, pn-.li car. However, when the first experience or sense of danger is over, as mile after mile is traversed in safety, the traveller ceases to think of sudden am| violent death, and begins to enjoy the magnificence of the scenery, and the opportunity of seeing unadill

terated Japanese country life. Now we are skirting or passing through a number of farms which consist of an endless sue cession of terraces. We see a patch dug out of the side of a high hill about lull x 3(1 feet, and this will be protected from the heights above by a solid stone retaining wall, eight and ten feet high ami 18 inches thick, and in this patch we see the barlev just breaking out into

ear, all planted in drills and growing luxuriantly; or perchance the ground is just broken up in readiness for rice planting. What we see in this patch represents what i- to be seen in thousands of others. There are no fences to divide the farms or hedges, but, judging by the closeness of the homes, the lots are very small. But never mind, intense cultivation atones for smallness of area. There is not a square inch of waste ground: whatever each spot can produce it is made to produce. The streams which come down the mountain sides

are not allow’d to find their way to the sea until they have first served the farmer and villager. By conduit, by the inestimable bamboo, the water is trailed over every lot that needs its service. The water is made to force the growth of the crop and to turn the large wooden wheel that cleans and grinds the rice, and to wash the village streets in addition to pouring its bounties out

for the basket and store of each home. On we go. now we seem to bt* pacing through a splendid orchard, so rich and beautiful an* the plum and cherry blossoms on every -ide of us. A sudden turn in the road show- us a tea-house built on a crag, overshadowed with peach blossom, and commanding a good view of the surrounding country. Now we pass through a village, where the school has just been dismissed and the children

with influenza noses gather round to peer at the foreigner, and to crack a joke at his expense. Hardly have we got clear of one village before we are into another where oranges, cake, and beer are offered for sale to the travellers, and the coolies take huge draughts of water out of a wooden cup with a long wooden handle. Now we leave the heights, and skirt the waters of the Japan Sea, where the fishers haul in their nets, and the spray of the ocean can be felt on the cheek.

All kiml< of sailing era: are within -’ght the whole time, while \ rics Island or O-'hima with its -inoking volcano, is -eon off the coast. Man) of the villages are like eeries perched up in the hills, bill many more nestle in a kind of horseshoe bend on the slopes beneath. Fortunately for the honour of the push system. there i< a considerable decline into Alami; the conductor blow- his horn and produces a very good imitation of a rail-

way whistle. Pedestrians stand respectfully on one side, and with considerable eclat the Jinsha car dashes into Atami terminus. After such a ride through the keen mountain air one is ready for all the comforts which the Atami Hotel waits to bestow; with the Japanese portion of the hotel and its mystries the European has nothing to do; all that he need he will find in that portion devoted to his comfort. Atami boasts a geyser, a most

respectable kind of geyser, for it keeps regular hours, and may be seen on exhibition six times a day. Though they live in the vicinity, as the time draws near for the geyser to eject its pent -lip steam, the villagers crowd around the iron gate which keeps them back from danger.

that I ley may have still another look. To those who have seen the geysers at. work i.i Xew Zealand, the one at Atami is mere child's play. ami yet people from all the world gather to see this. A partv of I’arsee gentlemen from Bombay wi re looking 'at if with amazement from

the balcony of .in adjoining bath-house; they told me it vvas one of the wonders of the world, but when I told them of New Zealand with its hot lakes and giant geysers, they looked as if they

took me for an American; ultimately it dawned upon them that 1 was telling them strictly the truth; then one of them said. “I hope to visit that wonderful country some day.” Surely New Zealand does not advertise her wonders as she might do. In the bath-house adjoining the Atami geyser there is a sulphur room sealed; around it are a number of apertures with plugs in them; by each plug a seat; here the visitors sit and inhale, according to their desire, the steam conveyed from the geyser through the sulphur room. It is one of the fun niest sights in the world to see the rows of people with mouths open inhaling the steam, but likewise one of the most disgusting to hear the blowing of noses, the clearing of throats, and the expectorations into the spitoons by side of each one. In numerous places in the village steam may be seen arising. Hot water supplied by nature, is the universal order; in every direction nray lie seen the bamboo pipes conveying the boiling water down every street, and into every home, and outside some of the homes may he seen a very neat stove arrangement where the culinary arrangements ere carried on by means of steam. The thing that surprises one is that with so much hot water to hand, there

should be so luigcly in evidence dirty children. In all the country districts that I have visited so far there seems to be a perpet mil crop of influenza amongst the children; t!.e upper lip and around the mouth are smeared with mucous in a disgusting fashion; one of a group of youngsters that gathered around me to stare was bent on making fun at my expense; he had a particularly thick co* l ing of mucous, and pointing to his m »uSi I said. “Takusan kit.ini,” and told him to go and wash it. The youngster was off like a shot amidst the roars of Hugh ter of his companions. Away up in the hills Atami poss?ases a park. It is called “The Plum (Sarden ;” the title is no misnomer. Acre after acre, on the beautiful slopes is plant? I with plum trees; in the spring time tne blossom of these trees affords a sigh that is worth travelling many miles to see; nothing short of a coloured lantern slide, can give u fair idea of its beauty. In the plum garden are to be found the usual tea-houses; in addition there are many"*rustic seats, and the quaintest of quaint foot bridges »and groves of bamboo. The whole garden is kept in perfect order; no litter, no leaves, no long grass anywhere. Each tree has a circumference of 10 or 12 feet of ground carefully cub tivated. the rest of the ground has closely cut grass. It is a spot to make one feel young, and to inspire him with a desire to renew the games and frolic of youth. To walk in such a place seems out of order; to run, to jump, to roll, to shout, to sing, are some of the ways in which vent must be given to the feelings. The Plum Garden is not without its shrines and temples and monuments erected to the honour of great and good men; but in the right hand corner, high up. is one of Nature’s shrines to which the guide brings you with eager feet. Within a bamboo enclosure stands a giant camphor tree. About 10 feet from the ground the trunk divides, but at its base its girth is enormous. The native? love this tree; its wood is precious, its leaves are for healing, and as nil the works of Nature are to them holy ot sacred, so this tree speaks to them ol those things which are solemn, myster ious, inevitable. I left Atami with re gret ; its hot baths are a comfort and m joy. while its scenery is a delight.