The four Corners in Japan

by Amy Ella Blanchard

"I saw all that in your face as I came up and I hated to disturb your dreams, yet I wanted to share them. Whenever I have felt homesick and discouraged I have come here and never have I failed to find comfort."

Nan turned to smile and to nod understandingly. Then for a moment the two sat looking at one another. Nan saw a pair of hazel eyes; a rather lean face, smooth shaven; a mouth not small but well-shaped; a rather large nose; a forehead, broad and low, above which was a crop of brown hair of uncertain shade. Not good looking in the least was this brother of her old college mate, but it was a face which could show tenderness, courage and unselfishness and she decided that she liked it very much.

On his part the young man saw a girl with eager, long-lashed gray eyes, a sweet mouth, a clear, colorless complexion and masses of dark hair; not so pretty as her sister Mary Lee, but with a more expressive face and to his mind a more attractive one.

Nan's gaze was the first to falter. She arose rather hastily. "I believe they are looking for me. Shall we go up there and join them? I believe they are buying photographs."

They walked slowly up the paved path, the sunshine and the waving trees about them. Once or twice they stopped while Mr. Harding pointed out some remnant of bygone splendor, a pile of stones, a distant tori-i, but at last they reached the others.

"We are going to have lunch before we go to the temple of Kwannon," Mrs. Craig told them after greeting her nephew whose coming was a surprise to every one. "There is a little inn back there. We can take our jinrikishas back to it."

"Oh, dear, must we eat?" sighed Nan. "I don't feel as if I could lose a moment in this wonderful place. Is it far to the temple of Kwannon and couldn't one walk?"

"Oh, yes, one could walk easily enough, but it seems to me that one could do it better after partaking of a meal," replied Mrs. Craig. So Nan, all unwillingly, followed the rest and in a short time they found themselves on the verandah of the Kaihin-in, the small hotel to which they had come for their meal. They could see a small strip of blue sea between pine woods and sand-dunes, but the famed island of Enoshima was not in sight, though the colonel told them it could be seen from a point a little further on. "We must go there some day," he said, "for it is well worth a visit, and is often included in this trip to Kamakura, but I realize that you are not the kind of rushing Americans who wish to see everything sketchily rather than a few thoroughly, so I think we would better save Enoshima for another day."

"I certainly second that motion," spoke up Nan. "I couldn't come here too often; it perfectly fascinates me."

A queer little meal was served them,—rice, eggs, dried fish, strange sweetmeats, the tender young shoots of the bamboo, and various other things untouched by the guests because undistinguishable. Then forth again they fared to the hill behind the great Dai Butsu where they should find the temple of the great goddess of mercy and pity, she to whom all Japanese mothers pray, for she is the children's protector, they believe.