arrived at the beach which lay before his old home. The turtle
bade him farewell, and was gone in a moment.

Uraschimataro drew near to the village with quick and joyful
steps. He saw the smoke curling through the roof, and the thatch
where green plants had thickly sprouted. He heard the children
shouting and calling, and from a window that he passed came the
twang of the koto, and everything seemed to cry a welcome for his
return. Yet suddenly he felt a pang at his heart as he wandered
down the street. After all, everything was changed. Neither men
nor houses were those he once knew. Quickly he saw his old home;
yes, it was still there, but it had a strange look. Anxiously he
knocked at the door, and asked the woman who opened it after his
parents. But she did not know their names, and could give him no
news of them.

Still more disturbed, he rushed to the burying ground, the only
place that could tell him what he wished to know. Here at any
rate he would find out what it all meant. And he was right. In a
moment he stood before the grave of his parents, and the date
written on the stone was almost exactly the date when they had
lost their son, and he had forsaken them for the Daughter of the
Sea. And so he found that since he had deft his home, three
hundred years had passed by.


Shuddering with horror at his discovery he turned back into the
village street, hoping to meet some one who could tell him of the
days of old. But when the man spoke, he knew he was not dreaming,
though he felt as if he had lost his senses.