CARVED GRAVEPOST: ISLAND OF SAGHALIEN.
We started out on Monday, February 22, legal holiday at home, for our hasty trip through the Ainu villages of the Saru River district, to secure our group of Ainu. We had already decided to take Yazo (Ozara Fukotaro) and his wife, Shirake from Mr. Batchelor’s house. As already familiar with white people and their customs, we felt that they would be a good influence in keeping others satisfied. Yazo has lived with Mr. Batchelor since he was fourteen years old, now a matter of ten years. He is industrious and progressive and has a little farm, some horses, etc. While we were gone, he went out to his village to make arrangements for the care of his place and property, while he should be away. His wife, Shirake, is a pretty and attractive girl of eighteen years, timid and modest.
SHIRAKE.
We went on the railroad, back toward Muroran, leaving the train at Tomakomai, about midway between Sapporo and Muroran. Mr. Batchelor had telegraphed ahead and a basha was waiting for us at the station. A basha is a queer, little, four-wheeled, covered cart, drawn by two of the small and shaggy Japanese horses. A cross-seat in front serves for the driver, and two lengthwise seats within are for passengers, who enter the vehicle from behind by a single, central, iron step. The basha is expected to carry six passengers, three on each seat, and the fare is charged for six, whether there is a single person or a full load. By the time we three were in, with our lunch basket, camera, luggage, etc., it would have been difficult for others to have found a place. Though it was chilly, the snow was thawing and before we had gone far, we really had no snow at all. From the station, we struck straight for the sea, riding over a low, flat, country, chiefly grass-grown, though with trees here and there. As we neared the coast, the road became actually sandy. From the open end of the basha, behind us, we had fine views of the pretty volcano Tarumai. The air was clear and the graceful, white-covered, mountain stood sharply against the sky. A great deal of vapor was escaping from it and the constant changes in the form and size of the white clouds of it, that hung at the crater until blown away, were curious to watch. When we reached the sea we turned abruptly to the left, losing the volcano view, and rode in long straight stretches, parallel to the coast, behind and below the line of low dunes. We passed, now and again, little groups of fishing huts and miniature torii, gateways to wee Shinto shrines. We reached Yubutsu, where we dismounted and walked along the sandy coast to stretch our legs and warm our bodies. When, after changing horses, the basha came along again, we remounted. At Azuma we spent the night in a Japanese inn, where Mr. Batchelor has a European room and a stove. His lunch-basket pieced out our supper, as it did all our subsequent meals, in a marvellous way. Azuma was full of soldiers as “the reserves” were being called out and this was a local gathering place.
GROUP OF AINU GRAVES.
When we started in the morning, the wind was cold and we walked a little to start the circulation. For some time after we entered the basha, our road continued over a plain covered with dry yellow grass, with oak trees, scattered or in clumps, here and there. Little or no snow lay on the ground. The general impression of the winter landscape was dreary and desolate. At Mukawa, we changed horses and basha, and found ourselves nearing the line of hills, which we had long seen ahead. At Sarabuto, where we first reached the Saru River, we turned left, leaving the sea and the low country and striking straight for the hills. We soon passed near the Ainu village of Shumunkot, and close by the side of the road saw a place where five Ainu had been buried. Such burial places are usually in out-of-the-way spots, and are neglected and avoided. There were no graves raised over the dead and the area was overgrown with brush. That there were three men, one woman and one girl, was shown by the stakes marking the graves. These were small trunks or large branches of trees with the bark left on. For a man’s grave, the upper end of the stake is cut to a spear-point or paddle-tip; for a woman’s, the upper end is rounded and pierced so as to present a loop or a half ring. The grave-stake for a child is smaller than that of an adult.
