The young woman builds the ashes up into a cone like the summit of fujiyama and lays fresh glowing charcoal against it.
We had been there two weeks and fujiyama was not to be seen.
In 1887 the writer ascended the summit of fujiyama, Japan, 12,400 feet elevation.
We had a wonderful glimpse of the sacred mountain, fujiyama.
The cloud effects from fujiyama's top are different, but not finer; and Fuji has no snowy mountains of Tibet to look out upon.
The fujiyama was foremost in every rush, and staggered under the blows she received.
It was brighter, far brighter, than is the sacred cone of fujiyama in the vivid day of Japan.
I turned and beheld fujiyama across a sea of upward-sloping fields and woods.
I once saw a book of a hundred pictures of fujiyama, each with a new foreground.
fujiyama glows in the early morning light, as Iris, who loves only her blind father, comes to the door of her cottage.