Indeed, there was enough mother-wit in Benry to have made him either a scamp or a philosopher. His theories were as remarkable as they were accommodating, particularly to himself.
Returning from the house of his love, the chief was in a very talkative mood, and he related two or three Japanese stories, which he wanted me to believe to be pure Ainu legends. A learned missionary and two or three travellers before him, who had visited Piratori previous to myself, have accepted these so-called legends wholesale, taking Benry's word for their accuracy, which, as the old chief speaks very good Japanese, of course simplified the task of understanding and transcribing them. I was, however, much surprised to find that such learned Europeans could yield such ready credence to a barbarian Ainu chief.
Thinking that it would please me, Benry told me the story of a deluge and a big flood, in which nearly all the Ainu were drowned. The few that escaped did so by finding refuge on a high mountain.
"Where did you learn this story, Benry?" I asked sternly.
"Nishpa, it is an old Ainu story, and all strangers who come to Piratori write it in their books."
"Oh, no, Benry, you know well that one stranger did not write it in his book," said I quickly, as if I knew all about it.
"Oh, yes, nishpa; that was the stranger who told me the story!"
This small anecdote shows how careful one ought to be in accepting information which may sound extremely interesting at first, but is absolutely worthless in the end.
AINU MAN WAVING HIS MOUSTACHE-LIFTER PREVIOUS TO DRINKING.