At four o'clock, just as the sun peeped into the room, Umé opened her eyes. "Oh, little kirigirisu," she whispered, "I like your singing much better than that of the mosquitoes. Gladly would I put them all in a cage in the godown." Then she thought of her morning-glories and pattered out into the garden to look at them. "How lovely they are," she said, as she touched them gently with her fingers. "This white one makes me think of Fujiyama when it is covered with snow; and this pink one is like the mountain at sunrise." As she spoke, the little girl looked across the city roofs to where her beloved mountain, Fujiyama, lifted its head like an inverted flower, tinged with the pink of the rising sun. Just then her father came out to look at the morning-glories, too, and after the morning greetings, Umé told him her fancy about Fujiyama. "Your thought is a poem, little daughter," said her father. "This very day you shall see the mountain in all its glory. Here we can see only its snow-capped crown, but on the way to Kamakura there are wonderful views of our sacred Fuji." After breakfast there were great preparations for the journey to Kamakura. First, each one in the family, one after the other, had to take a hot bath. Then the best kimonos were put on, and the best paper parasols were taken out of a long box in the godown. One servant ran to order the jinrikishas to take them to the station. Another packed rice, pickled radishes, and tiny strips of raw fish into the lunch boxes. Umé's mother was in every part of the house at once, and even the grandmother seemed excited at the thought of going to the seashore. Umé ran across the garden to tell Tei about the trip and bid her cousin sayonara, and Tara found a box of his best fishhooks and tucked them into his sleeve pocket. "I may catch an eel," he said, "and then we can have it fried for our dinner." At last the whole family were in the jinrikishas and were whirled so fast to the station that they had to wait a long time for the train. The children were glad to stand on the platform, watching the throngs of people and seeing the interesting sights. Newsboys were running everywhere calling their papers; strangely-dressed foreigners were hiring jinrikisha-runners to take them over the city; a police sergeant was walking up and down; and electric cars were bringing passengers to the station with much ringing of bells and clanging of gongs. "I fear Yuki-ko will not like her first ride in a train," said Umé, as the child hid her face in her mother's kimono at the sight of a big engine. "I well remember my first sight of an engine," said the grandmother. "When I was a little girl there was not a railroad track in all Japan. When the first trains ran through the country, the peasant women thought the engines were horrible demons, and ran screaming away from the puffing and hissing."