are: The Autumn Moon from Ishi-yama, the Evening Snow on
Hira-yama, the Blaze of Evening at Seta, the Evening Bell of Mii-dera,
the Boats sailing back from Yabase, a Bright Sky with a Breeze at Awadzu,
Bain by Night at Karasaki, and the Wild Geese alighting at Katada. All
the places mentioned are points about the lake. All sorts of legends and
romantic stories are associated with the waters of Lake Biwa. Its origin
is said to be due to an earthquake that took place several centuries
before the Christian era; the legend states that Fuji rose to its
majestic height from the plain of Suruga at the same moment the lake was
formed. Temples and shrines abound, and pilgrims galore come from far-off
places to worship and see its beauties.

One object of special curiosity to tourists is a remarkable pine-tree,
whose branches have been trained in horizontal courses over upright
posts, until it forms a broad shelter over several hundred square yards.
A smaller imitation of the large tree is also spreading to ambitious
proportions on the Tokaido side.

Snow has fallen and rests on the upper slopes of the mountains
overlooking the lake, little steamers and numerous sailing-craft are
plying on the smooth waters, and wild geese are flying about. With these
beauties on the left and tea-gardens on the right, the Tokaido leads
through rows of stately pines, and past numerous villages along the lake
shore.

The Nakasendo branches off to the left at the village of Kusa-tsu,
celebrated for the manufacture of riding-whips. Through Ishibe and
beyond, to where it crosses the Yokota-gawa, the Tokaido continues level
and good. Near the crossing of this stream is a curious stone monument,
displaying the carved figures of three monkeys covering up their eyes,
mouth, and ears, to indicate that they will "neither see, hear, nor say
any evil thing." All through here the country is devoted chiefly to
growing tea; very pretty the undulating ridges and rolling slopes of the
broken foot-hills look, set out in thick, bushy, well-defined rows and
clumps of dark, shiny tea-plants.

Down a very steep declivity, by sharp zigzags, the Tokaido suddenly dips
into the little valley of the Yasose-gawa. At the foot of the hill is a
curious shrine cave, containing several rude idols, a trough with tame
goldfish, and one of the crudest Buddhas I ever saw. The aim of the
ambitious sculptor of Buddhas is to produce a personification of "great
tranquillity." The fig