We Dashed Through Nakajo As Kuruma-Runners Always Dash Through
Towns And Villages, Got Out Of It In A Drizzle
Upon an avenue of
firs, three or four deep, which extends from Nakajo to Kurokawa,
and for some miles beyond
Were jolted over a damp valley on which
tea and rice alternated, crossed two branches of the shingly
Kurokawa on precarious bridges, rattled into the town of Kurokawa,
much decorated with flags and lanterns, where the people were all
congregated at a shrine where there was much drumming, and a few
girls, much painted and bedizened, were dancing or posturing on a
raised and covered platform, in honour of the god of the place,
whose matsuri or festival it was; and out again, to be mercilessly
jolted under the firs in the twilight to a solitary house where the
owner made some difficulty about receiving us, as his licence did
not begin till the next day, but eventually succumbed, and gave me
his one upstairs room, exactly five feet high, which hardly allowed
of my standing upright with my hat on. He then rendered it
suffocating by closing the amado, for the reason often given, that
if he left them open and the house was robbed, the police would not
only blame him severely, but would not take any trouble to recover
his property. He had no rice, so I indulged in a feast of
delicious cucumbers. I never saw so many eaten as in that
district. Children gnaw them all day long, and even babies on
their mothers' backs suck them with avidity.
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