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… even when he set a house on fire by putting a lighted match to a
mosquito…curtain； and clapped his hands for joy to see the blaze。 At sixteen
years he was a tall； strong lad； but in mind he remained always at the
happy age of two； and therefore continued to play with very small children。
The bigger children of the neighborhood； from four to seven years old； did
not care to play with him； because he could not learn their songs and
games。 His favorite toy was a broomstick； which he used as a hobby…horse；
and for hours at a time he would ride on that broomstick； up and down the
slope in front of my house； with amazing peals of laughter。 But at last he
became troublesome by reason of his noise； and I had to tell him that he
must find another playground。 He bowed submissively； and then went off；…
… sorrowfully trailing his broomstick behind him。 Gentle at all times； and
perfectly harmless if allowed no chance to play with fire； he seldom gave
anybody cause for complaint。 His relation to the life of our street was
scarcely more than that of a dog or a chicken； and when he finally
disappeared； I did not miss him。 Months and months passed by before
anything happened to remind me of Riki。
〃What has become of Riki？〃 I then asked the old woodcutter who
supplies our neighborhood with fuel。 I remembered that Riki had often
helped him to carry his bundles。
〃Riki…Baka？〃 answered the old man。 〃Ah； Riki is dead poor
fellow！。。。 Yes； he died nearly a year ago； very suddenly； the doctors said
that he had some disease of the brain。 And there is a strange story now
about that poor Riki
〃When Riki died； his mother wrote his name； 'Riki…Baka；' in the palm
of his left hand； putting 'Riki' in the Chinese character； and 'Baka' in kana
（1）。 And she repeated many prayers for him； prayers that he might be
reborn into some more happy condition。
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KWAIDAN： Stories and Studies of Strange Things
〃Now； about three months ago； in the honorable residence of
Nanigashi…Sama （2）； in Kojimachi （3）； a boy was born with characters on
the palm of his left hand； and the characters were quite plain to read；
'RIKI…BAKA'！
〃So the people of that house knew that the birth must have happened
in answer to somebody's prayer； and they caused inquiry to be made
everywhere。 At least a vegetable…seller brought word to them that there
used to be a simple lad； called Riki…Baka； living in the Ushigome quarter；
and that he had died during the last autumn； and they sent two men…
servants to look for the mother of Riki。
〃Those servants found the mother of Riki； and told her what had
happened； and she was glad exceedingly for that Nanigashi house is a
very rich and famous house。 But the servants said that the family of
Nanigashi…Sama were very angry about the word 'Baka' on the child's
hand。 'And where is your Riki buried？' the servants asked。 'He is buried in
the cemetery of Zendoji；' she told them。 'Please to give us some of the clay
of his grave；' they requested。
〃So she went with them to the temple Zendoji； and showed them
Riki's grave； and they took some of the grave…clay away with them；
wrapped up in a furoshiki ＇1＇。。。。 They gave Riki's mother some money；
ten yen。〃。。。 （4）
〃But what did they want with that clay？〃 I inquired。
〃Well；〃 the old man answered； 〃you know that it would not do to let
the child grow up with that name on his hand。 And there is no other means
of removing characters that come in that way upon the body of a child：
you must rub the skin with clay taken from the grave of the body of the
former birth。〃。。。
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KWAIDAN： Stories and Studies of Strange Things
HI…MAWARI
On the wooded hill behind the house Robert and I are looking for
fairy…rings。 Robert is eight years old； comely； and very wise； I am a little
more than seven； and I reverence Robert。 It is a glowing glorious August
day； and the warm air is filled with sharp sweet scents of resin。
We do not find any fairy…rings； but we find a great many pine…cones
in the high grass。。。 I tell Robert the old Welsh story of the man who went
to sleep； unawares； inside a fairy…ring； and so disappeared for seven years；
and would never eat or speak after his friends had delivered him from the
enchantment。
〃They eat nothing but the points of needles； you know；〃 says Robert。
〃Who？〃 I ask。
〃〃Goblins；〃 Robert answers。
This revelation leaves me dumb with astonishment and awe。。。 But
Robert suddenly cries out：
〃There is a Harper！ he is coming to the house！〃
And down the hill we run to hear the harper。。。 But what a harper！ Not
like the hoary minstrels of the picture…books。 A swarthy； sturdy； unkempt
vagabond； with black bold eyes under scowling black brows。 More like a
bricklayer than a bard； and his garments are corduroy！
〃Wonder if he is going to sing in Welsh？〃 murmurs Robert。
I feel too much disappointed to make any remarks。 The harper poses
his harp a huge instrument upon our doorstep； sets all the strong
ringing with a sweep of his grimy fingers； clears his throat with a sort of
angry growl； and begins；
Believe me； if all those endearing young charms； Which I gaze on so
fondly to…day。。。
The accent； the attitude； the voice； all fill me with repulsion
unutterable； shock me with a new sensation of formidable vulgarity。 I
want to cry out loud； 〃You have no right to sing that song！〃 For I have
heard it sung by the lips of the dearest and fairest being in my little world；…
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KWAIDAN： Stories and Studies of Strange Things
… and that this rude； coarse man should are to sing it vexes me like a
mockery； angers me like an insolence。 But only for a moment！。。。 With
the utterance of the syllables 〃to…day；〃 that deep； grim voice suddenly
breaks into a quivering tenderness indescribable； then； marvelously
changing； it mellows into tones sonorous and rich as the bass of a great
organ； while a sensation unlike anything ever felt before takes me by the
throat。。。 What witchcraft has he learned？ what secret has he found this
scowling man of the road？。。。 Oh！ is there anybody else in the whole world
who can sing like that？。。。 And the form of the singer flickers and dims；
and the house； and the lawn； and all visible shapes of things tremble and
swim before me。 Yet instinctively I fear that man； I almost hate him； and
I feel myself flushing with anger and shame because of his power to move
me thus。。。
〃He made you cry；〃 Robert compassionately observes； to my further
confusion； as the harper strides away； richer by a gift of sixpence taken
without thanks。。。 〃But I think he must be a gipsy。 Gipsies are bad people
and they are wizards。。。 Let us go back to the wood。〃
We climb again to the pines； and there squat down upon the sun…
flecked grass； and look over town and sea。 But we do not play as before：
the spell of the wizard is strong upon us both。。。 〃Perhaps he is a goblin；〃 I
venture at last； 〃or a fairy？〃 〃No；〃 says Robert； 〃only a gipsy。 But that is
nearly as bad。 They steal children； you know。〃。。。
〃What shall we do if he comes up here？〃 I gasp； in sudden terror at
the lonesomeness of our situation。
〃Oh； he wouldn't dare；〃 answers Robert 〃not by daylight； you
know。〃。。。
＇Only yesterday； near the village of Takata； I noticed a flower which
the Japanese call by nearly the same name as we do： Himawari； 〃The
Sunward…turning；〃 and over the space of forty years there thrilled back
to me the voice of that wandering harper；
As the Sunflower turns on her god； when he sets； The same look that
she turned when he rose。
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