I used to fire my curiosity and desire of boyhood days with reading an old warrior’s astonishing tales and legends; one of my favourite heroes was Yoshitsune who in his boy’s time was taught mystery and fencing by a certain Tengu, a mountain elf of the Western hill from where a rainbow flashes and where the bright sun has his nightly bed. Oh how I longed for an acquaintance with that wonderful elf with a long nose and wings, when the setting sun burned the Western sky and hills. It happened one evening that I was severely scolded by my father; my rebellious little soul forced me at once to leave the house and turn my hurried step towards the Western hill, where the sunset fire was burning to make me imagine a strange castle of beauty and romance, and even hear a word or two of that kind elf there. My frightened dear mother pursued me and at last held my arm and took me back and again to be scolded by my stern father. But, oh, the Western hill where the Tengu might live and teach me Life's mystery; even to-day I feel to hear sometimes his tender call from the far-off rainbow and evening glow.
