come flocking in to climb the great mountain. The village street is
lined with inns; and in front of each stood a boy with a lantern hailing
the new arrivals. We were able, in spite of the crowd, to secure a room
to ourselves, and even, with difficulty, some water to wash in--too many
people had used and were using the one bath! A table and a chair were
provided for the foreigner, and very uncouth they looked in the pretty
Japanese room. But a bed was out of the question. One had to sleep on
the floor among the fleas. Certainly it was not comfortable; but it was
amusing. From my room in the upper storey I looked into the whole row
of rooms in the inn opposite, thrown open to the street, with their
screens drawn back. One saw families and parties, a dozen or more in a
room, dressing and undressing, naked and clothed, sleeping, eating,
talking; all, of course, squatting on the floor, with a low stool for a
table, and red-lacquered bowls for plates and dishes. How people manage
to eat rice with chopsticks will always be a mystery to me. For my own
part, I cannot even--but I will not open that humiliating chapter.

Of the night, the less said the better. I rose with relief, but dressed
with embarrassment; for the girl who waited on us selected the moment of
my toilet to clean the room. It was still raining hard, and we had
decided to abandon our expedition, for another night in that inn was
unthinkable. But, about eleven, a gleam of sun encouraged us to proceed,
and we started on horseback for the mountain. And here I must note that
by the official tariff, approved by the police, a foreigner is charged
twice as much for a horse as a Japanese. If one asks why, one is calmly
informed that a foreigner, as a rule, is heavier! This is typical of
travel in Japan; and there have been moments when I have sympathised
with the Californians in their discrimination against the Japanese.
Those moments, however, are rare and brief, and speedily repented of.

Naturally, as soon as we had started the weather clouded over again. We
rode for three hours at a foot-pace, and by the time we left our horses
and began the ascent on foot we were wrapped in thick, cold mist. There
is no difficulty about climbing Fuji, except the fatigue. You simply
walk for hours up a steep and ever-steeper heap of ashes. It was perhaps
as well that we did not see what lay before us, or we might have been
discouraged. We saw nothing but the white-grey mist and the