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or horse vehicle； suitable only for disembodied spirits。 My joints
ached again at the thought。 Clearly； to grumble now was to sin
against proportion。
Besides； the weather was perfect： argosies of fleecy cloud sailing
slowly across a deep blue sky； a broad plain in all its spring
freshness of color； picked out here and there with fruit trees
smothered in blossom； and bearing on its bosom the passing shadows of
the clouds above； in the distance the gradually growing forms of the
mountains； each at first starting into life only as a faint wash of
color； barely to be parted from the sky itself； pricking up from out
the horizon of field。 Then； slowly； timed to our advance； the tint
gathered substance； grew into contrasts that； deepening minute by
minute； resolved into detail； until at last the whole stood revealed
in all its majesty； foothill； shoulder； peak； one grand chromatic
rise from green to blue。
One after the other the points came out thus along the southern sky：
first the summits behind Ome； then Bukosan； like some sentinel；
half…way up the plain's long side； and then range beyond range
stretching toward the west。 Behind Bukosan peeped Cloud's Rest； the
very same outline in fainter tint； so like the double reflection
from a pane of glass that I had to shift to an open window to make
sure it was no illusion。 Then the Nikko group began to show on the
right； and the Haruna mass took form in front； and as they rose
higher and the sunbeams slanted more； gilding the motes in the heavy
afternoon air； they rimmed the plain in front into one great bowl
of fairy eau de vie de Dantzic。 Slowly above them the sun dipped to
his setting； straight ahead； burnishing our path as we pursued in
two long lines of flashing rail into the west…northwest。 Lower he
sank； luring us on； and lower yet； and then suddenly disappeared
beyond the barrier of peaks。
The train drew up； panting。 It was Takasaki； now steeped in saffron
afterglow。 The guards passed along； calling out the name and
unfastening the doors。 Everybody got out and shuffled off on their
clogs。 The baskets； Yejiro； and I followed； after a little； through
the gloaming。
It was not far to the inn。 It was just far enough； at that hour； to
put us in heart for a housing。 Indeed； twilight is the time of
times to arrive anywhere。 Any spot； be it ever so homely； seems
homelike then。 The dusk has snatched from you the silent
companionship of nature； to leave you poignantly alone。 It is the
hour when a man draws closer to the one he loves； and the hour when
most he shrinks from himself； though he want another near。 It is
then the rays of the house lights wander abroad and appear to beckon
the houseless in； and that must be； in truth； a sorry hostelry to
seem such to him。
Even Takasaki bore a look of welcome alike to the foreign and the
native stranger； which was certainly wonderful for Takasaki。 The
place used not to fancy foreigners； and its inns bandied the European
traveler about like a bale of undesirable merchandise with the duties
still due。 But now； what a change！ The innkeeper not only received
us； but led the way at once to the best room；a room in the second
story of the fireproof storehouse at the back； which he hoped would
be comfortable。 Comfortable！ The room actually proffered us a table
and chairs。 No one who has not； after a long day's tramp； sought in
vain to rest his weary body propped up against a side beam in a
Japanese inn can enter into the feeling a chair inspires； even long
afterward； by recollection。
I cannot say I loved Takasaki in former days。 Was it my reception or
was it sentiment that made me see it all now through a mist of glamour？
Unsuspected by us； that atmosphere of time tints everything。 Few
things but look lovelier seen down the vista of the years。 Indeed；
sentiment is a kind of religion； or is it religion that is a kind of
sentiment？ Both are so subtly busy canonizing the past； and crowning
with aureoles very every…day things as well as very ordinary people。
Not men alone take on a sanctity when they are no more。
III。
The Usui Pass。
The first object to catch my eye； when the shoji were pushed apart；
the next morning； was a string of the ubiquitous paper fish； dangling
limp in the motionless May air from a pole in a neighboring yard；
highly suggestive of having just been caught for breakfast。 The
sight would have been painfully prophetic but for the food we had
brought with us； for； of all meals； a Japanese breakfast is the most
cold； the most watery； and the most generally fishy in the world。
As it was； breakfast consisted of pathetic copies of consecrated
originals。 It might have been excellent but for the canned milk。
No doubt there are persons who are fond of canned milk； but； for my
part； I loathe it。 The effect of the sweetish glue upon my inner man
is singularly nauseating。 I have even been driven to drink my
matutinal coffee in all its after…dinner strength rather than
adulterate it with the mixture。 You have； it is true； the choice of
using the stuff as a dubious paste； or of mixing it with water into a
non…committal wash； and； whichever plan you adopt； you wish you had
adopted the other。 Why it need be so unpalatably cloying is not
clear to my mind。 They tell me the sugar is needed to preserve the
milk。 I never could make out that it preserved anything but the
sugar。 Simply to see the stuff ooze out of the hole in the can is
deterrent。 It is enough to make one think seriously at times of
adding a good milch cow to his already ample trip encumberment； at
the certain cost of delaying the march； and the not improbable chance
of being taken for an escaped lunatic。 Indeed； to the Japanese mind；
to be seen solemnly preceding a caravan of cattle for purposes of
diet would certainly suggest insanity。 For cows in Japan are never
milked。 Dairy products； consequently； are not to be had on the road；
and the man who fancies milk； butter； or cheese must take them with
him。
It used to be the same in Tokyo； but in these latter days a dairy has
been started at Hakone； which supplies fresh butter to such Tokyoites
as like it。 One of my friends； who had been many years from home；
was much taken with the new privilege； and called my attention to it
with some pride。 The result was a colorless lardy substance that
looked like poor oleomargarine （not like good oleomargarine； for that
looks like butter）； but which was held in high esteem； nevertheless。
My friend； indeed； seriously maintained to me once that such was the
usual color of fresh butter； and insisted that the yellow hue common
elsewhere must be the result of dyes。 He was so positive on the
point that he almost persuaded me； until I had left him and reason
returned。 It took me some time to recover from the pathos of the
thing： a man so long deprived of that simple luxury that he had quite
forgotten how it looked； and a set of cows utterly incapable； from
desuetude； of producing it properly。
After I had duly swallowed as much as I could of the doubtful dose
supposed to be cafe au lait； the cans were packed up again； and we
issued from the inn to walk a stone's throw to the train。
Takasaki stands well toward the upper end of the plain； just below
where the main body of it thrusts its arms out into the hills。
Up one of these we were soon wending。 Every minute the peaks came
nearer； frowning at us from their crumbling volcanic crags。 At last
they closed in completely； standing round about in threatening
pinnacles； and barring the way in front。 At this； the train；
contrary to the usual practice of trains in such seemingly impassable
places； timidly drew up。
In truth； the railway comes to an end at the foot of the Usui toge
（toge； meaning 〃pass〃）； after having wandered up； with more zeal than
discretion； into a holeless pocket。 Such untimely end was far from
the original intention； for the line was meant for a through line
along the Nakasendo from Tokyo to Kioto； and great things were
expected of it。 But the engineering difficulties at this point； and
still more at the Wada toge； a little farther on； proving too great；
the project was abandoned； and the through line built along the
Tokaido instead。 The idea； however； had got too much headway to be
stayed。 So it simply jumped the Usui toge； rolled down the Shinano
valley； climbed another divide； and came out； at last； on the sea of
Japan。
The hiatus caused by the Usui pass is got over by a horse railroad！
Somehow； the mere idea seemed comic。 A horse railroad in the heart
of Japan over a pass a mile high！ To have suddenly come upon the
entire Comedie Francaise giving performances in a teahouse at the top
could hardly have been more surprising。 The humor of the thing was
not a whit lessened by its looks。
To begin with； the cars were fa