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nent occupation of such peaks for astronomical purposes.1

Ten years ago, Uriah Atherton Boyden, a wealthy and eccentric gentleman, died in Boston, leaving a fortune of more than $200,000 to a Board of Trustees, with discretionary power to employ it in establishing and maintaining an astronomical observatory on some mountain peak. His definite aim was to overcome the hindrances to astronomical work at ordinary elevations, the nature of which we have just explained. This fund is now managed by the Harvard College Observatory, and experimental research has been conducted at high altitudes in different parts of the globe, in order to show the precise nature of the improved conditions of vision, and to ascertain the best location for the mountain observatory.

It was in the interest of this research that our expedition ascended Fuji-san. Nothing could have come more acceptably than the courtesy of General Count Yamagata, Minister of the Japanese Department of the Interior (Naimusho), in detailing Dr. Knipping, the meteorologist of the Central Observatory, as a member of the expedition. Dr. Knipping had already several times ascended the mountain, and mapped the entire region about it, as indeed the whole of Japan. With Dr. Holland, the naturalist of the Eclipse party, Mr. Masato, of the Central Observatory, and the "handy man" Magobe, we set out from Tokyo in the early morning of September 1, a party of six. Our instruments, though few, were of the best among them a set of meteorological apparatus, a 31⁄2-inch telescope kindly lent by the Japanese Naval Observatory, and a 74-inch telescope brought from the Amherst

1 A word and a picture will explain. At the low elevations where observatories are ordinarily built, the atmosphere offers a serious obstacle to the prosecution of work with the telescope. For the most part this is due to the nocturnal radiation of heat stored up during the

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Observatory, and arranged for photographing celestial objects. As the accompanying map, compiled from the latest Japanese authorities. will show, the Kyoto railway, running southwesterly from Yokohama, passes nearest the mountain at Gotemba, where the tourist to Fuji-san may now alight. We found the road then open only to Kodzu, whence the journey to the summit of the great cone had to be made by packhorse and on foot. The peak may be ascended by five different trails, according to the route by which the base of the mountain is reached. On the advice of Dr. Knipping, our expedition made the ascent on the east flank, from Subashiri, a moderate village about 31⁄2 ri2 directly east from the summit. Leaving the train at Kodzu, a small sea-town, a part of an hour's waiting was spent in wandering on the hot, stony beach, where numbers of Japanese children followed us, picking up pebbles and presenting them to us, with faces full of interest and good nature. With the kori, or traveling-baskets, the instruments and luggage. piled into various jinrikishas, and the members of our party in others, we were a noticeable procession, starting off gaily from the little station.

Shortly after leaving the town our road bade good-by to the ocean, turning off into a narrow valley which led apparently to the heart of the hills. The intense green of a summer landscape in Japan is perhaps its most beautiful characteristic. To this luxuriant appearance the groves of bamboo add exquisite grace. Often as high as forty feet, their masses of delicate yellow-green foliage, almost angular in the sunlight, give an effect of matchless airiness. The higher we climbed, over a wellsurrounded by a few diffraction rings, as shown at A. Push the eyepiece in, or draw it out, and the image of the star will enlarge to a disk, like C; and if the telescope is all right, this disk will be perfectly circular, and evenly illuminated throughout. Now place a lighted lamp at Q, and observe the effect. A will become like B, an irregular lump of light with rays shooting out in every direction; and C like D, a disk bright in some parts and dark in others, with a continual dancing and vibration of the illuminated and unilluminated parts over the entire area. Remove the disturbing heatsource Q, and A and C soon appear as before. In a greater or less degree, these conditions of disturbed vision are always present in telescopic observations of the stars, while if the planets are looked at with high magnifying powers, the sharp details of their surfaces become a confused blur, and often so wavering that the astronomer has to make them out, as best he may, from momentary glimpses when the images are least unsteady. The atmospheric shell encircling the earth is a hundred miles and more in thickness; but by its own weight is so much denser in the lower than the upper strata, that an ascent of twelve to fifteen thousand feet is sufficient to leave one third of the total atmospheric mass below, and with it the main source of interference with telescopic vision.

2 The Japanese mile, or ri, is equivalent to 2.44 English miles.

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traveled road, the more delightful the country became. Rich ferns grew from the mountainside, almost overhanging the road; frequent springs gushed out of mossy banks on one side, while on the other was a foaming stream now far below. What with the strange and lovely plants, the picturesque villages where tea and sweetmeats awaited us, the fascinating stream growing more impetuous in its rush to the sea, and the sea itself far behind, closing up our vista of green valley, we reached our stopping-place all too soon. Long before the sun had begun to think of setting we found ourselves high among the hills, ten ri from Kodzu, rattling over the stony street of Miyano-shita.

The air here was delicious, and hot sulphursprings have made the place a famous resort, possessing two excellent European hotels. The town seemed to be especially noteworthy in its display of fine wood-inlaying. Small screens and large ones, desks, tables, boxes, cabinets all were of some dark wood, most exquisitely inlaid with various lighter-colored woods, in strange and beautiful patterns. We were told later that both the fine bamboo carvings and this inlaid wood cannot stand the dry heat of American houses. Our bamboo carvings have split here and there, while the Miyano-shita inlaying is unaltered.

Sunrise the following morning found us far on our walk toward the night's sleeping-place, Subashiri, at the base of the great sacred mountain, and 2500 feet above the sea.

The road-chiefly bridle-paths through cool woods and over hillsides, up and down, in and out-is impracticable, for the most part, for

jinrikishas. The distance is seven ri, and packhorses were available for the heavier luggage, with kago for occasional ease. Passing through the attractive little village of Kiga,-cool, shady, damp, with its ponds of goldfish, and filled with water-murmurs,- we walked on and on to the top of a bare hill, from which we looked down on the thatched roofs of Kiga nestling among its myriad trees, beyond to Miyano-shita, and still beyond to the gray-blue sea and its misty horizon. The breeze was cool and refreshing, and after a brief rest we struck into a high sort of moorland which the Japanese call hara, a heath where grow nothing but tall, soft grass and low shrubs. Gradually the path grew steeper, and Dr. Knipping informed us that we had reached the ridge separating us from the level country surrounding Fuji-san. Up this pass-Otomi-toge-we made our way. It is more than three thousand feet high, and a hard pull over a stony path bordered with flowers and shrubs. At the top a magnificent view greeted the eye. Miles of level farming-lands lay spread out below, the bright green rice-fields looking hardly larger than pinheads, and whole towns mere specks of brown. Fuji himself, to crown this view, would have been grand beyond description; but, as usual, his majesty was wrapped in a gigantic white cloud, covering his imperial head and shoulders, if not more. We saw only for an instant a half-defined glimpse of the lofty cone

Fast fixed to earth,

But ever heavenward tending.

After a comfortable luncheon and rest on the pass we began the descent, far more weari

some than the climb. Sunny fields, full of summer scents and sounds, led us at length to Gotemba, a pretty village only five miles from Subashiri, and where at the tea-house we found watermelons so delicious that the memory of them haunts us yet. The road thereafter is level and fine, overarched most of the way with large trees. All the hotels in Subashiri, except one, refuse to entertain foreigners. So to the Yona-yama we repaired, well content to rest and be waited upon after our day's walk. Jiu-hei, as we understood the proprietor's name, saw that excellent rooms with chairs and a table were provided. Through a long passage where the wood shone from its repeated polishings, past the general bathing-tank, past a little garden where the sun could never penetrate to the mossy stone lanterns and luxuriant ferns, up four steps, and the rooms were reached. Through the long, low, sliding windows we

About three o'clock the following morning we had our breakfast by the feeble light of candles. The Japanese appear to be up all night under the best of circumstances, so it seemed perfectly natural that the smiling little maids should serve us apparently in the middle of the night. The moon was just setting behind Fuji, looming very near and black, when we set forth upon our walk of twenty-two miles to the summit. For seven miles we had the services of an obliging packhorse, through a level country, dreary and monotonous, partly wooded by scrub-pines. Volcanic remembrance already began to turn smiling, genial Japan into a sullen land, thinking of woe. In the midst of this desolate region, a hopeful brightening in the east soon became the oncoming glories of a superb sunrise, and soon after this we reached the first station of the real ascent. Uma-gayeshi ("horse-turn-back") is 4400 feet

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a slight refreshment, chiefly in the form of pale-yellow tea, we followed on. From here the ascent is divided into stages, each marked by small stations, or halting-places.

Devout pilgrims, to the number of fifteen or twenty thousand, with banners in hand bearing the name of their town, annually ascend Fujisan as a religious obligation, and to propitiate various deities. The prayer frequently made upon these occasions runs thus: "Purify me from my six roots of evil-the eyes, ears, nose, mouth, touch, and thoughts."

After leaving Uma-gayeshi, the walk for a long distance was thoroughly delightful. The sunshine sifted softly through greenest foliage to a mass of wild-flowers and ferns. The path -a sort of gully, sunk at least two feet below the general level of the wood-was fringed with ferns and delicate asters, while great roots protruded and overhung the edge like colossal petrified snakes. Airy white birches shook their fluttering leaves in the soft breeze, the Japa

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nese maples, beeches, and ash joined the evergreens in making a shady canopy above; while maidenhair ferns, belated wild roses, yellow lilies, dwarf sunflowers, tall white serpentaria, and purple monk's-hood combined to hide the delicious wild strawberries lurking in the grass. At intervals through this lovely wood were temples and shrines,- many of them deserted for the year,- and an occasional intermediate station where tea and sweetmeats formed welcome greeting. The summer heat was slightly tempered with a brisk and cooler air, making the sunshine friendly; and flowers bloomed not only all about us, but even in the picturesque thatched roofs of the miniature temples: the whole was idyllic.

But suddenly, emerging from the trees, another world appeared. Before, above, around, lay miles of fire-baked lava, dull and hopeless in the sunshine-finished, dead. For a short distance now and then there were oases of verdure, where the hardiest of shrubs and flower

had gained a slight foothold; and here, again, the charming wild strawberries grew luxuriantly. But these wooded spots-smaller, fewer, farther apart-soon ceased altogether, and we were left alone with the wind and the sky, and a stupendous mountain-cone,- all but overhanging us,-cold, lifeless, pitiless. For a time the sweeping wind was welcome; but it increased with every step. Straight down into our faces it pelted, as if indeed some mighty guardian of the mountain resented the invasion of impious feet. The difficulties of the climb had begun, and Dr. Knipping's oft-repeated caution against a too-rapid pace became almost unnecessary. Sharp lava in enormous masses lay in the path, and, indeed, on every side; very soon there was no path at all. The coolies with their burdens could be seen far ahead, clambering up and over and around, each in his own way, with cat-like agility. The wind became a hurricane; it beat upon us, it pounded us; frequently we had to cling fast to the lava-ledge with both hands until some particularly fierce gust had passed. Verily, hard-hearted is the god who would not be propitiated to the bestowal of any favor by a climb like this! And yet when some luckless pilgrim dies upon the summit,-and this occasionally happens, he becomes, not, as might be expected, a martyr to his piety, but a being thereby proved too wicked to live any longer!

At one of the poor little stations-all of which, however, were inexpressibly welcome -soft rice-paper, India ink, and camel's-hair brushes were brought out for us to inscribe our names. The collecting of banners, kakimono, or scroll-pictures, and autographs seemed to have been a task dear to the heart of the proprietor, and he proudly exhibited his treasures. Among the hundreds of Japanese mementos were the names of a party of Europeans who had climbed Fuji two or three years before. The sudden sense of companionship on this lonely mountain, the instant leap of the heart at seeing the familiar letters, were sensations as agreeable as they were curiously new. We willingly painted our names for the old man, who, with all our coolies, watched us, deeply interested.

Farther than the sixth station, 9800 feet above sea-level, foreigners and women have not been allowed to ascend until recently. Since the dawn of wider intelligence, and a receptive opening of the national mind toward whatever is better in other countries, these restrictions have been removed. At five minutes after one o'clock in the afternoon we reached this station, and immediately upon sitting down the pulse was counted, and found to be 144 in the first minute. After a rest of fifteen minutes it restered 100.

Sweetmeats much more delicate and fresh than might have been expected were found at each station. But the most genuinely sustaining of our comforts was chocolate, of which Dr. Knipping had provided a generous supply. A mouthful or two, a bite now and then during some particularly hard pull, refreshed lagging energies and added greatly to our strength; while if angels are ever met in pith helmets and gray suits, Dr. Knipping was certainly one of that kindly fraternity when, having climbed ahead, he met us at one station with steaming cups of this same delightful chocolate ready for each nearly spent traveler.

And now, to add further novelty to the day, a soft white cloud drifted down and about, or perhaps we climbed into its embrace, and its moist caresses added immense discomfort to every motion. If it hid the steep dangers below, it also enveloped the mighty cone above, and removed even the questionable pleasure of seeing what remained to be done. So we climbed blindly onward, drenched and chilled, seeing only the next step ahead, knowing no path, but keeping instinctively upward. Each pilgrim is provided with several extra pairs of straw sandals to replace those constantly worn through by the sharp lava. If, as is said, fifteen thousand pilgrims ascend the mountain every summer, and each one discards half a dozen. pairs of this foot-gear during his climb, it is evident that there must be some straw sandals on the mountain-side. In the prevailing mist these cast-off waraji were now the only reliable indication of the trail. Occasionally the tiny tinkle of some pilgrim bell would steal softly through the thick white mist, growing louder as its owner came swiftly downward by another path than ours, then becoming fainter and yet more faint as the pilgrim, still unseen, strode quickly down toward the real world. Or perchance, looming through the cloud, a human form was barely discernible, a great, impalpable shadow, passing with its little bell in unknown nearness, to be speedily swallowed up in the encompassing gray.

Each station was poorer than the last,many of them were closed, the pilgrim season practically ending with August,- but despite the increasing barrenness of those yet open, we could hardly have dispensed with their rude shelter and rest. Patience now seemed the most desirable virtue to add to strength of limb. Perseverance was after a time rewarded, for we climbed out of the cloud, and reached sunshine once more, though in a barren world. But small ills were speedily forgotten as we reveled in the sunshine and blue sky. The huge summit seemed overhanging, the effect was startling,-while the path so lately traversed looked most precipitous. For an instant we seemed

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