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104 dread. The order must be obeyed; yet who in all Shinano could make a rope of ashes?

One night, in great distress, the son whispered the news to his hidden mother.

“Wait!” she said, “I will think.”

On the second day she told him what to do.

“Make a rope of twisted straw,” she said, “then stretch it upon a row of flat stones and burn it there on a windless night.”

He called the people together and did as she said, and when the blaze had died, behold, upon the stones, with every twist and fibre showing perfect, lay a rope of whitened ashes.

The daimio was pleased at the wit of the youth, and praised him greatly, but demanded to know where he had obtained his wisdom.

“Alas! Alas!” cried the farmer, “the truth must be told!” and with many deep bows he related his story.

The daimio listened, then meditated in silence. Finally he lifted his head.

“Shinano needs more than the strength of youth,” he said gravely. “Ah, that I should have forgotten the well-known saying, ‘With the crown of snow, there cometh wisdom!’&thinsp;”

That very hour the cruel law was abolished, and the custom drifted into so far a past that only the legend remains.

As we went farther on, I found the customs so different from those of Nagaoka that I felt as if I were already in a strange land. At one place, long before we reached the village, we heard a hoarse voice calling, “''Ma-kat-ta? Ma-kat-ta?''” (Is it sold? Is it sold?) and as we rolled through the one narrow, crowded street we saw an auctioneer standing high in the midst of dozens of bamboo baskets of beans, carrots, greens, and bamboo shoots; while lying around him, in ungainly confusion, were every