It
is truthful, straightforward, manly, but both it and the tone of
voice are strongly tinged with pathos.
Before these elders Benri asked me, in a severe tone, if I had been
annoyed in any way during his absence. He feared, he said, that
the young men and the women would crowd about me rudely. I made a
complimentary speech in return, and all the ancient hands were
waved, and the venerable beards were stroked in acknowledgment.
These Ainos, doubtless, stand high among uncivilised peoples. They
are, however, as completely irreclaimable as the wildest of nomad
tribes, and contact with civilisation, where it exists, only
debases them. Several young Ainos were sent to Tokiyo, and
educated and trained in various ways, but as soon as they returned
to Yezo they relapsed into savagery, retaining nothing but a
knowledge of Japanese. They are charming in many ways, but make
one sad, too, by their stupidity, apathy, and hopelessness, and all
the sadder that their numbers appear to be again increasing; and as
their physique is very fine, there does not appear to be a prospect
of the race dying out at present.
They are certainly superior to many aborigines, as they have an
approach to domestic life. They have one word for HOUSE, and
another for HOME, and one word for husband approaches very nearly
to house-band. Truth is of value in their eyes, and this in itself
raises them above some peoples. Infanticide is unknown, and aged
parents receive filial reverence, kindness, and support, while in
their social and domestic relations there is much that is
praiseworthy.
I must conclude this letter abruptly, as the horses are waiting,
and I must cross the rivers, if possible, before the bursting of an
impending storm. I. L. B.
LETTER XXXVIII
A Parting Gift - A Delicacy - Generosity - A Seaside Village -
Pipichari's Advice - A Drunken Revel - Ito's Prophecies - The Kocho's
Illness - Patent Medicines.
SARUFUTO, YEZO, August 27.
I left the Ainos yesterday with real regret, though I must confess
that sleeping in one's clothes and the lack of ablutions are very
fatiguing. Benri's two wives spent the early morning in the
laborious operation of grinding millet into coarse flour, and
before I departed, as their custom is, they made a paste of it,
rolled it with their unclean fingers into well-shaped cakes, boiled
them in the unwashed pot in which they make their stew of
"abominable things," and presented them to me on a lacquer tray.
They were distressed that I did not eat their food, and a woman
went to a village at some distance and brought me some venison fat
as a delicacy.
