jinrikisha bowled. In spite of the rain, the view had a grandeur
that compensated for much discomfort. It was, moreover, amply
diversified. Now we rushed out to the tip of some high cape, now we
swung round into the curve of the next bay; now we wound slowly
upward, now we slipped merrily down. The headlands were endless, and
each gave us a seascape differing from the one we folded out of sight
behind; and a fringe of foam, curving with the coast, stretched like
a ribbon before us to mark the way.

We halted for the night at a fishing village called No: two lines of
houses hugging the mountain side, and a single line of boats drawn
up, stern on, upon the strand; the day and night domiciles of the
amphibious strip of humanity, in domestic tiff, turning their backs
to one another, a stone's throw apart. As our kuruma men knew the
place, while we did not, we let them choose the inn. They pulled up
at what caused me a shudder. I thought, if this was the best inn,
what must the worst be like! However, I bowed my head to fate in the
form of a rafter lintel, and passed in. A dim light, which came in
part from a hole in the floor, and in part from an ineffective lamp,
revealed a lofty, grotto-like interior. Over the hole hung a sort of
witches' caldron, swung by a set of iron bars from the shadowy form
of a soot-begrimed rafter. Around the kettle crouched a circle of
gnomes.

Our entrance caused a stir, out of which one of the gnomes came forward,
bowing to the ground. When he had lifted himself up enough to be seen,
he turned out quite human. He instantly bustled to fetch another light,
and started to lead the strangers across the usual slippery sill and
up the nearly perpendicular stairs. Why I was not perpetually
falling down these same stairways, or sliding gracefully or otherwise