Next morning when we rose at six, we got a beautiful view of Fuji, the "Peerless One," springing from the ground as it seemed almost behind the inn, and lifting its beautiful head into the pale blue sky, above horizontal wreaths and stretches of cloud. After breakfast we paid a visit to the "university," where we found about thirty youngsters seated on the floor in one room, with copies of some Chinese classic before them, learning to read by rote from the mouths of older and more advanced pupils. This instruction was given for about two hours each morning, and six times a month explanations of the text were imparted by professors. The headmaster, who was from the Confucian College at Yedo, used to be changed annually. And this, with the addition of learning to write with a brush, constituted the education of a young Japanese in the olden time. The system was one that cultivated the memory, but failed altogether to appeal to the reasoning faculties. Of course all this has long ago disappeared, and it is possible that this system of instruction is as obsolete in Japan as the dodo.
The great mountain having at last appeared on our horizon, we were to have its company for nearly every step of the rest of the journey. Near Ejiri we caught a delicious view of the summit appearing over the lower mountains on the left hand. At one o'clock we reached Okitsu, where we were to lunch. The inn stood close to the sea shore, and possessed an upper room commanding a magnificent view, in favour of which we abandoned the dignified glories of the _jô-dan_ or dais. On the left the blue promontory of Idzu stretched away far into the ocean until it became almost invisible in the haze; on the right hand the low hills of Kunô-zan terminating in a low spit of sand covered with irregular growth of pine trees, the famous Miyo no Matsubara of the Japanese poets. From the back window we had a glimpse of the snowy peak of Fuji peeping over the tops of the intervening hills, and by craning our necks out sideways the double-topped head of the Futagoyama near Hakoné.
On leaving this spot, which we did with reluctance, we followed the base of the cliffs for two or three miles along the shore, when suddenly we turned a corner and Fuji came full in view; in front, the base of the great mountain was hidden by the low range which runs down into the sea near Kambara, and a white cloud encircled its middle. Wirgman sat down to make a sketch, from which he painted a picture which is still in my possession. Next we reached Kurazawa, famous for Venus-ear (_awabi_) and _sazai_, a big whorl with a curious spiral operculum. Of course we rested here awhile to eat of the local dish, washed down with repeated cups of _saké_, in which the guard joined us. Since the affair of Kakégawa we had become great friends, as men usually do who have shared the same perils. The road followed the sea-shore here to Kambara, and would be one of the most picturesque in Japan, but for the dirty uninteresting fishing villages which line nearly the whole of its length.