[Footnote 11:  It will be readily understood that the customs and ceremonies to which I have alluded belong only to the gross superstitions with which ignorance has overlaid that pure Buddhism of which Professor Max Mueller has pointed out the very real beauties.]

[Illustration:  THE TOMB OF THE SHIYOKU.]

Through all this discourse about temples and tea-houses, I am coming by degrees to the goal of our pilgrimage—­two old stones, mouldering away in a rank, overgrown graveyard hard by, an old old burying-ground, forgotten by all save those who love to dig out the tales of the past.  The key is kept by a ghoulish old dame, almost as time-worn and mildewed as the tomb over which she watches.  Obedient to our call, and looking forward to a fee ten times greater than any native would give her, she hobbles out, and, opening the gate, points out the stone bearing the inscription, the “Tomb of the Shiyoku” (fabulous birds, which, living one within the other—­a mysterious duality contained in one body—­are the emblem of connubial love and fidelity).  By this stone stands another, graven with a longer legend, which runs as follows:—­

“In the old days of Genroku, she pined for the beauty of her lover, who was as fair to look upon as the flowers; and now beneath the moss of this old tombstone all has perished of her save her name.  Amid the changes of a fitful world, this tomb is decaying under the dew and rain; gradually crumbling beneath its own dust, its outline alone remains.  Stranger! bestow an alms to preserve this stone; and we, sparing neither pain nor labour, will second you with all our hearts.  Erecting it again, let us preserve it from decay for future generations, and let us write the following verse upon it:—­’These two birds, beautiful as the cherry-blossoms, perished before their time, like flowers broken down by the wind before they have borne seed.’”

Under the first stone is the dust of Gompachi, robber and murderer, mixed with that of his true love Komurasaki, who lies buried with him.  Her sorrows and constancy have hallowed the place, and pious people still come to burn incense and lay flowers before the grave.  How she loved him even in death may be seen from the following old-world story.

* * * * *

About two hundred and thirty years ago there lived in the service of a daimio of the province of Inaba a young man, called Shirai Gompachi, who, when he was but sixteen years of age, had already won a name for his personal beauty and valour, and for his skill in the use of arms.  Now it happened that one day a dog belonging to him fought with another dog belonging to a fellow-clansman, and the two masters, being both passionate youths, disputing as to whose dog had had the best of the fight, quarrelled and came to blows, and Gompachi slew his adversary; and in consequence of this he was obliged to flee from his country, and make his escape to Yedo.