Dragons and Cherry Blossoms

by Alice A. Parmelee Morris

We told him that we would be very glad to see Cho also; and with a face beaming with smiles, and the most exaggerated of bows, Eba took his leave.

This was the beginning of our acquaintance with these two friends, and we grew to be very fond of them during the weeks that followed. They were most assiduous in their attentions, devoting to us all their time. The first thing we saw every morning as we glanced out of the window, were the forms of our coolies gracefully reposing in their shafts, waiting until it was our pleasure to take a ride. Eba was of a light-hearted temperament, and was always laughing and joking with Cho, who received his advances with a sedate air more suited to his greater age. We had already had a touching example of the filial care with which the younger looked after the older man, and this was only one of many. I tried several times to learn whether there was any particular relationship which necessitated this attention, but never discovered that there was anything beyond a congenial sense of comradeship. We may be sure that Cho was not the only one who profited by this, for Eba was of a more impulsive nature, which might have done many foolish things had it not been for the sage advice of his senior. He always treated him with the utmost respect, and his attentions were those of an affectionate son.

I had been frequently told that the Japanese were a people of little natural emotion, and that their extreme expression of respect and affection was merely the national idea of politeness. When I think of this I always call to mind our two humble friends, and the genuine attachment I am confident they still have for us. The two men’s natures were as widely different as their ages; Cho was the practical man, and thought that the best way he could manifest his affection was by polishing up the jinrikisha wheels to a dazzling brightness, or by running up a difficult hill with unusual rapidity; but Eba more romantically permitted himself little attentions in the way of Japanese nosegays, and in pointing out unusual and attractive features of the scene. Cho kept a careful eye on our business affairs, would drop many a quiet hint on the practices of the shopmen, and thought that the greatest kindness he could do us was to prevent the impositions of his crafty countrymen. It was evident that he despised the more artistic nature of his companion, and at one time I feared that their friendship might suffer from the little rivalry that was going on. As Eba’s nosegays increased in size, our carriage wheels grew brighter and brighter, and when Eba was spending a large part of his time pointing out new and interesting scenes, Cho seemed to be seeking unknown curio shops from which to warn us to keep away.

Eba was more intelligent than Cho, and was always ready to talk. He told me that he could read and write Japanese, having attended school between the ages of eight and twelve. He was twenty-two years old, and had dragged ’rikishas for about six years. He now worked for a company at three yen a month, but he was working hard, and in time hoped to save up enough money to buy his own carriage and be his own master. In addition to his business capacity, he had a quick eye for what was really fine, and always used the utmost taste in the selection of his bouquets.

On one occasion he was delightfully æsthetic. We had been riding in a suburban district, and the roads were lined with wild-flowers. We paused a moment for a little rest, and lounged around in the grass in various attitudes of ease. I grieve to record that Cho leaned his head against a tree and went to sleep, but I have a better tale to tell of Eba. I could see him wandering around at a short distance, picking now and then a flower, which he arranged with the utmost care. He seemed to bestow a large amount of thought on every fresh addition, rejecting many a posy that he had selected, and starting on a new search for something he had not yet found. Finally satisfied, he returned and presented me with the result. It was a little bouquet not as large as your thumb, but perfect in every detail. It was surrounded by a thin border of green, and the flowers were the tiniest I had yet seen in this land of tiny things. The production was a real work of art, and could never have been accomplished but by a man of inherent delicacy. It seemed almost a sacrilege after this that my tasteful friend should be subjected to the indignity of lifting the ’rikisha shafts, and toiling up the steep hills like an ordinary soul.

Eba’s attachment was a kind that manifested itself in smiles. The profoundness of his bow was also an excellent gauge of his devotion; had anything happened the day before to jar upon his sensitive nature, his body would be sure to incline itself a little more stiffly than usual. These little congelations would occur when the spray of cherry-blossoms that he had laid on our sitting-room table had remained unnoticed, or when we had declined an offer to take a sunset ride. When all was sailing smoothly on, however, his bow was a thing in which his whole body played a part, and his smile would often degenerate into a grin. I was curious to know something about his home-life; but my questions elicited no confidences. I often wondered where he stole away in the night-time, and what his own domestic ties might be. But I never learned; whenever the morning came, there he sat between the shafts of his jinrikisha, with the sleepy Cho at his side, and this was the only glance I could get into the manner of his life.

In other more tangible ways, however, did Eba display his kindly spirit. He early learned my admiration for the mountain of Fujiyama, and the desire I felt to view it under the most promising circumstances. It is not the easiest thing in the world to see this capricious peak, owing to the dense mist that almost constantly envelops it; you have to await your chance, which is not likely to come many times. Eba took it upon himself to keep a careful watch of affairs, and spent a large part of his time with his eyes towards the West. One day he ran into my room in the utmost excitement, and going to the window pulled the curtain aside, with the air of a long-nourished wish fulfilled.

“Come, Mississy, quick,” he exclaimed. “See Fuji!”