The Boy Who Drew Cats and Other Japanese Fairy Tales by Lafcadio Hearn, Francis Davis Page A

they all sang the same song, over and over again:
    â€œ Chin-chin Kobakama,
Yomo fuké sro,
Oshizumare, Hime-gimi!
Ya ton ton! ”
    Hundreds of little men, only about one inch high,
were dancing all around her pillow.
    Which meant: “We are the Chin-chin Kobakama; the hour is late; sleep, honorable noble darling!”
    The words seemed very polite; but she soon saw that the little men were only making cruel fun of her. They also made ugly faces at her.
    She tried to catch some of them; but they jumped about so quickly that she could not. Then she tried to drive them away; but they would not go, and they never stopped singing and laughing at her. Then she knew they were little fairies, and became so frightened that she could not even cry out. They danced around her until morning; then they all vanished suddenly.
    â€œChin-chin Kobakama,”
    She was ashamed to tell anybody what had happened—because, as she was the wife of a warrior, she did not wish anybody to know how frightened she had been.
    Next night, again the little men came and danced, and they came also the night after that, and every night—always at the same hour, which the old Japanese used to call the “Hour of the Ox”; that is, about two o’clock in the morning by our time. At last she became very sick, through want of sleep and through fright. But the little men would not leave her alone.
    Her husband, coaxing her gently, asked her what had happened.
    When her husband came back home, he was very sorry to find her sick in bed. At first she was afraid to tell him what had made her ill, for fear that he would laugh at her. But he was so kind, and coaxed her so gently, that after a while she told him what happened every night.
    He did not laugh at her at all, but looked very serious for a time. Then he asked:
    â€œAt what time do they come?”
    She answered: “Always at the same hour—the ‘Hour of the Ox.’ ”
    â€œVery well,” said her husband, “to-night I shall hide and watch for them. Do not be frightened.”
    So that night the warrior hid himself in a closet in the sleeping room, and kept watch through a chink between the sliding doors.
    He waited and watched until the “Hour of the Ox.” Then, all at once, the little men came up through the mats, and began their dance and their song:—
    â€œChin-chin Kobakama,
Yomo fuké sro. ”
    They looked so queer, and danced in such a funny way, that the warrior could scarcely keep from laughing. But he saw his young wife’s frightened face; and then remembering that nearly all Japanese ghosts and goblins are afraid of a sword, he drew his blade, and rushed out of the closet, and struck at the little dancers. Immediately they all turned into—what do you think?
    Toothpicks!
    There were no more little warriors—only a lot of old toothpicks scattered over the mats.
    The young wife had been too lazy to put her toothpicks away properly; and every day, after having used a new toothpick, she would stick it down between the mats on the floor, to get rid of it. So the little fairies who take care of the floor-mats became angry with her, and tormented her.
    Her husband scolded her, and she was so ashamed that she did not know what to do. A servant was called, and the toothpicks were taken away and burned. After that the little men never came back again.
    There is also a story told about a lazy little girl, who used to eat plums, and afterward hide the plum-stones between the floor-mats. For a long time she was able to do this without being found out. But at last the fairies got angry and punished her.
    For every night, tiny, tiny women—all wearing bright red robes with very long sleeves,—rose up from the floor at the same hour, and danced, and made faces at her and prevented her from sleeping.
    Her mother one night sat up to watch, and saw them, and struck at them,—and they all turned into plum-stones! So