Alameda High School - Acorn Yearbook (Alameda, CA)

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Thus being declined of his ardent request, the old traveling 5 Vy monk heavily directed his tottering feet toward the pointed path. The wind was raging with all his violence and the thick- ening snow was deep on the path. As soon as the stranger had left them, the wife said to her husband in a low but advising tone, with tears, “My master, how cruel you are! It is not that we should suffer this ruined life because we did not plant the right seeds in our foregone days. To serve to every one with all we have, even to this poor traveler, is to serve Shippen Hogii at Kamakura. “T am unable to see and let that old, feeble traveling monk go without paying any due tribute to him! Is it not possible that we can entertain him a night? To warm his trembling body with fire and to satisfy his hunger with a meal of millet?” “Oh, my worthy wife!” replied the husband, much moved by her strange advice. “Why didn’t you tell it to me little earlier? Oh, my fault! J see it, I see it! If we have some millet it is best we can afford. Prepare the meal with it and the fire at once, my darling, while I will hurry after the stranger and bring him back.” So saying, he left the house in hurry. Two minutes later he was back with the helpless stranger and all three were around the small, square fire place, which is cut in the middle of the room. The stranger monk enjoyed the meal of millet, though it was the first time he had ever tasted it. Soon the night approached with still more violent snow storm and the cold increased hour after hour. But as their poverty had provided no quilt with which to keep the stranger comfortable, they decided to talk the night over around the fire. So they made a good fire and forgot the bitter cold out- side. As the night rolled on, the storm seemed to have calmed its violence slightly, but the cold became severer and severer. Toward the morning when the cold was severest, all the kindling woods were used up and there was no way of provid- ing them. The master and his wife tried in vain every possibl e way to procure some. Suddenly the master rose and brought out, from the shelf, below the window, three potted plants. The one was a plum, budding already under the snow, the other was pine clad in deep evergreen. And the third was a cherry in the splendid aspect, with well trimmed boughs. They were so beautiful that the stranger could hot help crying out,

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Che Plants of the Pots 3y H. Akagi. 5

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“Such a beautiful potted plants. They speak undoubtedly your great assiduity for a long time in rearing them up.” “They are not worth your praise,” replied the master. ‘For- merly I had several hundreds of them. But jus t before I had fallen to this impoverished present condition, I distributed them all among my friends. Yet I valued these three so much. I could not part with them. “No wonder! They are most charming ones that my eyes ever looked upon.” “That is enough of praise, my friend,” continued the master, interrupting the monk. “The pleasure of bringing up those potted plants belong entirely to those people of well-to-do class, and to us who are unable even to get daily living with ease, they are unnecessary now. Especially at this moment, warmth is all we need. Oh, how cold it is!” “But take care, sir master,” remarked the monk. “Preserve them, as they are so beautiful, that you may enjoy them when you get back to your power again.” “Ah, that is only a sweet imagination, my power will never come back.” Then cutting those three well brought up plants of the pots without the least grudge against it, he made the fire. Once more they stretched out their hands from three sides of the fire place, and forgot even the severest cold.. Meanwhile these unordinary deeds and the sympathetic heart of the husband and the tender and graceful manner of his wife gave great impression upon the stranger. So, think- ing that they must have been the member of some respected family once, he suddenly asked in reverend tone, “Sir, there is something yet, I do not know what, that tells me that you must have been of high birth. Permit me to learn your name and birth.” “I am unworthy to be named to you.” “Say that not so, sir. I think you are not an ordi- nary man.” “If you insist on it so urgently, I have nothing to hide from you. I am Tsuniyo Genzaemon Sano,” and, pointing to his wife, this is my wife Shirae,” he replied with dignified tone. “Was that you, Lord Sano, and your madam, Shirae? Pray, how did it happen that my Lord Sano is ruined to this pitiful condition?” “Ah, that is a sad story! As you may know, my mother had died while I was still young. And my father, one of the knights of Shippen at Kamakura, had a second wife. A son was soon born to her, a step-brother to me. Every- thing went fine while my father was living, but upon his death everything came to a change. My step- brother then conspired to murder my life and at the same time to get posses-