MOST important and most generally observed of all Japanese festivals is the New Year, the holiday season lasting for about two weeks. The most striking feature to us was the varied decorations of the gates, which were adorned with a collection of emblems of one kind and another, producing an effect unique in the extreme, even if their significance was unknown. These decorations are put up before Christmas in the case of the foreigners, but those in front of the native houses are not completed until New Year, and remain in place throughout the holidays.

A large number of apparently incongruous articles are used in ornamenting Japanese homes for the New Year, and not until we learn the symbolic meaning of each one of these can we understand their use. They range from bamboo, ferns, oranges, pine-trees and branches of yusuri-tree to paper bags, straw ropes, bits of charcoal, seaweed and even lobsters, incomprehensible as it may seem to the Western mind that some of these objects should have any significance whatever.

As you enter a house you discover, stretched from post to post of the gateway above your head, a thick, twisted rope—the nawa—with the following emblems suspended from it: first, the yebi—lobster—whose bent back is the symbol of long life, suggesting the hope that he who passes beneath may not die until time has bowed his back in like manner. Surrounding the lobster, as a frame to its brilliant scarlet, are the yusuri branches, on which the young leaves are budding while the old have not as yet fallen, significant of the several generations of the family within. Almost hidden by the lobster and directly in the centre of the nawa, are perhaps the prettiest of all the emblems, two dainty fern-fronds, symbolical of the happiness and unity of wedded life, and carefully placed between the two, a budding leaflet emblematic of fruitfulness.

From Japanese mythology we learn the significance of the nawa—the rope of rice straw. Ama-terasu, the Sun-Goddess, in terror of her brother, Susa-no-o, fled to a cave, from which she refused to come forth. Then the Eighty Myriads of Gods took counsel as to how they might induce her to bestow upon them the light of her face once more. They decided to give a wonderful entertainment, introduced by the songs of thousands of birds. Ama-terasu came out, curious to know the meaning of these sounds, daylight returned, and the gods stretched a barrier across the mouth of the cavern in order that she might never retreat to it again. The nawa represents this obstacle, and wherever it hangs, the sweetness of spring is supposed to enter.

But one may ask, what is the connection between the New Year and the coming of spring? According to the old Japanese calendar, the year began at any time between January sixteenth and February nineteenth, so it came, as a rule, at least a month later than with us, and the idea of spring was always associated with the New Year. Although spring arrives in Tokyo about the time it does in Washington, January first is far enough from any suggestion of buds and flowers: but the Japanese keep the old associations and call the first fortnight of the year "spring-advent" and the second fortnight "the rains."

The mention of spring suggests a charming stanza by an anonymous Japanese poet, which I give in Professor Chamberlain's translation:

That the gods may not be forgotten, propitiatory offerings in the shape of twisted pieces of paper cut diagonally—gohei, meaning purification—are attached at intervals along the nawa, looking for all the world like the horns stuck in the hair in the children's game of "Horned Lady." Setting off the scarlet hue of the lobster, on either side is placed a daidai,—a kind of orange—expressing the hope that the family pedigree may flourish. The rather incongruous piece of charcoal—sumi, meaning homestead—comes next, and gently waving to and fro beneath the oranges may be seen strips of seaweed—konbu—signifying rejoicing.

On either side of the gateway stands the guardian pine-tree, indicative of long life, supporting the nawa, which is about six feet in length—on the right the me-matsu (the red pine), and on the left the O-matsu (the honourable black pine). Behind, giving grace and dainty freshness to the whole, nod and sway the exquisite feathery branches of the bamboo, typical of health and strength. The full list of symbols is not always seen, as the task and the purse of the individual are both consulted before deciding upon his gateway decorations. But even among the poorest there is never a doorway wholly unadorned; the omission would be sure to bring harm to the householder and misfortune to his friends, and the gods unpropitiated would look frowningly down during the year. Although two diminutive pine-trees before a house may be all that can be afforded, the dweller within feels as securely guarded against harm in the coming year as if the whole panoply of emblems were waving over his humble doorway.

The pine-trees remind me of BashÔ's epigram on New Year decorations, beautifully translated by E. W. Clement:

Much brighter colours are worn at the New Year than at other times, and presents are exchanged. The older people make gifts of dwarf trees, while the children give one another dolls and kites, and games of battledore and shuttlecock, which one sees both old and young playing in the streets. The small, stocky horses that drag the carts with their picturesque loads are adorned with streamers of mauve and lemon and rose in honour of the first drive of the year, and many of the carts carry flags and lanterns on bamboo poles, so that the streets are very gay. Tokyo is especially gay the last evening of the old year, because a matsuri, or fair, is held in the principal street, with little booths illuminated by lanterns, where any one who is in debt can sell his belongings in order to pay all he owes and begin the New Year fairly.

Small groups go from house to house, carrying the strange lion-dog's head, which they put through various antics, while they dance and sing in order to drive away evil spirits. (The lion-dog is a mythical animal borrowed from the Chinese.) They are usually rewarded by the owner with a few pennies. People go about on New Year's Day, stopping at the doorways of their friends to say: "May you be as old as the pine and as strong as the bamboo, may the stork make nests in your chimney and the turtle crawl over your floor." The turtle and the stork symbolize long life.

Part of the preparation for the New Year festival consists in the annual house-cleaning. This custom is kept up to-day, and is carried out even in foreign houses. Under the old rÉgime, we are told, officials of the Shogun's Court sent overseers carrying dusters on long poles to superintend the work and thrust their brooms into cracks and corners where dust might be left undisturbed by careless servants, at the same time making mystic passes with their poles to form the Chinese character for water. The merchants, too, have their "big cleaning," when all their wares are tossed out into the street. As one of the Japanese poets has said:

One of the most attractive customs associated with the New Year is that of placing under the little wooden pillows of the children a picture of the Takara-bune, the Treasure Ship, with the Seven Gods of Good Fortune on board. This ship is said to come into port on New Year's Eve and to bring a wonderful cargo, among other rare things being the Lucky Rain-Coat, the Inexhaustible Purse, the Sacred Key and the Hat of Invisibility. This is the Japanese interpretation of our expression, "When my ship comes in."

At the Embassy the observance of New Year's Eve was a mixture of American and Japanese customs. We invited all the unmarried members of the Staff, and after visiting the matsuri we returned to the Embassy, and as the clock struck twelve we passed a loving bowl, and all joined hands and sang songs. Then, as the passing year was the year of the cock, and 1913 was the year of the bullock, some one crowed a good-bye to the rooster of 1912, and some one else mooed like a bullock as a welcome to the newcomer, and we had a very jolly time.

But New Year's Day itself is not without its religious and ceremonial observances. Every man is obliged to rise at the hour of the tiger—the early hour of four o'clock—and put on new clothes. Then he worships the gods, does homage to the spirits of his ancestors, and offers congratulations to his parents and the older members of the family. All this must be done before he can breakfast.

The first repast of the year is in every sense symbolic. The tea is made with water drawn from the well as the first ray of the sun touches it. The principal dish is a compound of six ingredients, which are always the same, although the proportions may be varied. A special kind of sakÉ is drunk from a red lacquer cup in order to ensure good health for the coming year. In addition to these things, there is always an "elysian stand"—a red lacquer tray, covered with evergreen yusuri leaves and bearing a lobster, a rice dumpling, dried sardines, and herring roe, also oranges, persimmons and chestnuts, much as in a "lucky bag." All these articles of food are in some way emblematic of long life and happiness, and the stand itself represents the chief of the three islands of Chinese mythology, where all the birds and animals are white, where mountains and palaces are of gold, and where youth is eternal.

New Year calls are as much a part of the celebration in Japan as in the Western world. Originally, these were genuine visits, and the "elysian stand" was set before the guests for their refreshment, but among the higher classes the calls are now the most conventional of affairs, in which the visitor simply writes his name in a book or leaves a card in a basket, often without being received by the householder at all. The caller leaves also a little gift of some sort—such as a basket of oranges, a bunch of dried seaweed, or a box of sweetmeats—wrapped in a neat package and tied with a red and gold cord in a butterfly knot. A finishing touch is given to the parcel by a sprig of green in a quiver-shaped envelope tucked under the knot.

The seventh of January was the proper time to go out into the fields and gather seven common plants, among which were dandelion, chickweed and shepherd's purse. These were boiled with rice and eaten for health, strength and good luck.

Originally, the Japanese had no weekly day of rest and recreation, but in recent years the Sabbath has been made an official rest-day, to be observed by all in government employ. The mass of the people, however, bring up their average of holidays by other occasions. There are during the year ten or twelve special feasts which are always observed—the Emperor's birthday, or when he eats first of the season's rice crop, or makes a pilgrimage to the shrines of his mythological ancestors, and other similar events, are all made the occasion of a national holiday and popular rejoicing. Besides, every section of a city or district in the country has a little matsuri every day or two, and these, of course, are held holiday, but it must be remembered that many of the festivals mentioned in this chapter belonged to Old Japan, and are dying out to-day.

Some festivals take the names of animals, such as the Horse Day, and the years are also named after animals, 1914 being the year of the tiger. The Fox Temple Festival is well known, when the people pray for good crops. Among other holidays are the Lucky Day, the seventh day of the seventh month, when two planets are in conjunction, and the first day of the eighth month. Certain prescribed flowers and plants are used on each of these occasions. Any important date, such as that on which a young man comes of age, or an official is promoted in rank, is also made a festal day.

The twenty-eighth day of every month is observed by the Japanese, but more generally in the first month than in any other, in order to begin the New Year properly. We went to a Buddhist temple in Uyeno Park, where they beg the god of luck to protect them and keep them from misfortune throughout the year. Before entering the temple, as is always done, they purify themselves by washing their hands and scattering little offerings of money done up in paper. On account of some ancient custom, money is much more valued in Japan if wrapped in paper. Candles are lighted, and priests sitting cross-legged with their backs to the audience read from sacred books. A holy fire is kindled, and each worshipper buys a hundred tapers and walks from the fire to the shrine, praying, I suppose, for they seem to be saying something. As they reach the fire again, they throw a taper into it, and repeat the ceremony till all are gone. Surrounding the temple are little booths, where toys are for sale and gay lanterns and good things to eat and drink are displayed, so that when the prayers have been offered, the people can enjoy themselves in feasting, watching the jugglers at their tricks, or making small purchases at the booths.

On the night of February third, distant shouts were heard at the Embassy. Upon inquiring what the noise was about, I was told that this was called "Bean Night," when the servants in most houses throw beans out into the garden, crying, "Demons go out, luck come in." As I passed a temple that evening, I saw crowds of people, and noticed some Shinto or Buddhist priests doing a religious dance.

The third of March is the Dolls' Festival, the great day of the year for little girls. At all times of the year the Japanese have miniature belongings for children which are very attractive, but just before this festival the shops are even prettier than at Christmas in America, and the windows are always arranged either to show the No dance—two figures in curious dress in front of a gold screen with pine-tree decorations—or the Emperor and Empress. These dolls are placed on the top shelf with a screen behind and a canopy overhead to suggest a palace. Although for twenty years or more the Emperor has generally appeared in uniform on State occasions, and the Empress has been gowned in the latest Parisian style, these Imperial dolls wear flowing robes and have strange crowns upon their heads, the Emperor, too, having his hair curiously arranged; and they sit in Japanese fashion on a raised platform. On the shelf below are ladies-in-waiting, then follow musicians, lanterns and articles of food down the steps in order, all very tiny and perfectly made.

For a picture of this festival as it is kept even to-day I borrow from Miss Alice M. Bacon's "Japanese Girls and Women," only adding that I was so delighted with the toys myself that I bought many of them, and with the aid of Watanabe set them up in proper order at the Embassy:

"It was my privilege," says Miss Bacon, "to be present at the Feast of Dolls in the house of one of the Tokugawa daimyos, a house in which the old forms and ceremonies were strictly observed, and over which the wave of foreign innovation had passed so slightly that even the calendar still remained unchanged, and the feast took place upon the third day of the third month of the old Japanese year, instead of on the third day of March, which is the usual time for it now. At this house, where the dolls had been accumulating for hundreds of years, five or six broad, red-covered shelves, perhaps twenty feet long or more, were completely filled with them and with their belongings. The Emperor and Empress appeared again and again, as well as the five Court musicians, and the tiny furnishings and utensils were wonderfully costly and beautiful. Before each Emperor and Empress was set an elegant lacquered table service—tray, bowls, cups, sakÉ pots, rice baskets, etc., all complete—and in each utensil was placed the appropriate variety of food. The sakÉ used on this occasion is a sweet, white liquor, brewed especially for this feast, as different from the ordinary sakÉ as sweet cider is from the hard cider upon which a man may drink himself into a state of intoxication. Besides the table service, everything that an Imperial doll can be expected to need or desire is placed upon the shelves. Lacquered norimono, or palanquins; lacquered bullock carts, drawn by bow-legged black bulls—these were the conveyances of the great in Old Japan, and these, in minute reproductions, are placed upon the red-covered shelves. Tiny silver and brass hibachi, or fire-boxes, are there, with their accompanying tongs and charcoal baskets—whole kitchens, with everything required for cooking the finest of Japanese feasts, as finely made as if for actual use; all the necessary toilet apparatus—combs, mirrors, utensils for blackening the teeth, for shaving the eyebrows, for reddening the lips and whitening the face—all these things are there to delight the souls of all the little girls who may have the opportunity to behold them. For three days the Imperial effigies are served sumptuously at each meal, and the little girls of the family take pleasure in serving the Imperial Majesties; but when the feast ends, the dolls and their belongings are packed away in their boxes, and lodged in the fireproof warehouse for another year."

As we may well believe from the tenderness with which it is treated, the Japanese doll is not simply a plaything but a means of teaching a girl to be a good wife and mother. It is never abused, but is so well cared for that it may be in use for a hundred years. Certain large dolls, representing children two or three years old, were formerly believed to contain human souls, and it was thought that if they were not well treated they would bring ill luck upon their owners.

A story is told of a maid who was much disturbed by dreams of a one-armed figure—the ghost of a girl or woman—which haunted her bed at night. These visitations were repeated so many times that she decided to leave the place, but her master prevailed upon her to stay until he had made a thorough search of her room. Sure enough, in the corner of a cupboard shelf, he came upon an old one-armed doll, left there by a former servant. The doll's arms were repaired, it was honourably put away, and the restless little ghost was laid.

Lafcadio Hearn says, "I asked a charming Japanese girl: 'How can a doll live?' 'Why,' she answered, 'if you love it enough, it will live.'"

But as all things earthly must have an end, so even a Japanese doll at last comes to the close of its life. It is lovingly cared for even then, is not thrown away, is not buried, but is consecrated to Kojin, a god with many arms. A little shrine and a torii are erected in front of the enoki-tree, in which Kojin is supposed to live, and here the doll finds its last resting-place.

On the eighth of April is celebrated the religious festival known as the Baptism of Buddha, when crowds assemble at all the temples, and pour amacha, or sweet tea, over the statue of Buddha. In the centre of a small shrine set up for the occasion is the image, adorned with flowers and surrounded by small ladles to be used by the worshippers. The right hand of the image is uplifted toward heaven and the left pointed downward toward the earth, "in interpretation of the famous utterance attributed to Buddha at birth: 'Through all the heights of heaven and all the depths of earth, I alone am worthy of veneration.'"

The ceremony is said to have originated in the effort to interpret the meaning of the sutra—a Buddhist text—called Wash-Buddha-Virtuous-Action sutra. In this we are told that "a disciple once asked Buddha how best to enjoy the virtue ascribed to the Master both in heaven and on earth." The answer was in substance that the worshipper would find peace by pouring a perfumed liquid over Buddha's statue, and then sprinkling it upon his own head. While performing the ceremony, the devotee must repeat the golden text, "Now that we have washed our sacred Lord Buddha clean, we pray that our own sins, both physical and spiritual, may be cleansed away, and the same we pray for all men." This festival is an especial favourite with children, who throng the temples, each one throwing a small copper coin into the shrine and deluging the god with sweet tea, which is usually a decoction of liquorice and sugar in water.

At the Boys' Festival, on the fifth of May, over every house where a boy has been born during the year a bamboo pole is set up, from which flies a paper carp, the fish moving in the breeze as if ascending a stream. The carp is the boldest of fish in braving the rapids, so to Japanese boys he symbolizes ambitious striving. In every household where there are sons the favourite heroes of olden time are set out in the alcove of honour of the guest-room. Among them will be seen the figure of an archer clothed from head to foot in gay armour, with a huge bow in his hand and a quiver full of arrows on his back. This is Yorimasa, the famous knight, who was the greatest archer of his time. On this day, too, pride of family and veneration for ancestors are inculcated by bringing out the antique dishes, the old armour and the other heirlooms that during the rest of the year are stored in the godown.

The Gion Festival, on the seventh of June, in honour of the mythical Prince Susa-no-o-no-mikoto and his consort, Princess Inada, and their son, Prince Yahashira, is famed for its magnificent procession, in which the car of the god is drawn. In the centre of the car is a figure attired in rich brocades; in front is a beautiful youth, who is accompanied by other boys, all wearing crowns; at the back is the orchestra that furnishes music for the procession. This display is witnessed by crowds of people, who throng the Shijo Road, in Kyoto, where it occurs.

In ancient times it was customary to atone for a crime by shaving the head and cutting the nails of the fingers and toes. This custom has now been modified to a sort of vicarious atonement, called harai. Gohei, which in this case is cut in the shape of a human figure, is rubbed on the body of the evil-doer in order that it may take his sins, and is then thrown into the stream and carried away. Repentant sinners obtain harai from the priests of Shinto temples.

This ceremony, which occurs in June and is called the Festival of the Misogi, is referred to in the following old song:

A festival of fairy-land is the Itsukushima, celebrated at Miyajima, on the Inland Sea, from the fifteenth to the seventeenth of June. Brilliant decorations are everywhere—on the long avenue by which the shrine is approached, and over the water, where bamboo-trees have been set up, and flags and lanterns are hung from them. Musicians in three boats furnish music for the assembled crowds. The place is thronged by thousands on the last day of the festival, when the boats with the musicians are stationed under the great torii, and the sweet sounds floating over the water and the myriad lights reflected in the sea make the scene one of indescribable enchantment.

On the seventh of July occurs the Tanabata Matsuri, or Festival of the Stars, which, like so many other Japanese customs, was introduced from China. A charming nature myth tells us that beside the East River of Heaven, the Milky Way, lived the fair Princess Tanabata, who was known to the human race as the star Vega. She was a weaver by profession. As she was obliged to marry in order to fulfill her destiny, Heaven chose for her the great male star, Kengyu (Aquila), whose abode was on the West River. In her happiness the Princess forgot her weaving; whereat Heaven was so displeased that she was sent back in disgrace to the East River, and ever after was allowed to see her husband only once a year. All devout Japanese pray for fine weather on July seventh, as that is the date on which the unfortunate lovers meet; for, if even a few drops of rain fall, the East River will rise above its banks and prevent the Princess from crossing to her waiting spouse.

On the evening of this day, the young maidens of the family lay a straw matting in the garden, and place on it a table with fruits and cakes as offerings to the two stars. Then they present their petitions for themselves and their true loves. Some pray for long life and a large family; others set up a bamboo pole, on which they hang a piece of embroidery as an emblem of their desire for skill in needlework; still others attach to the pole pieces of paper, on which are written the poems they bring in praise of the heavenly couple. This festival has scant observance in large cities.

Touched with a peculiar tenderness and pathos is the Festival of the Dead, observed from the thirteenth to the fifteenth of July. In every house new mats of rice straw are laid before the little shrines, and a tiny meal is set out for the spirits of the departed. When evening comes, the streets are brilliant with flaming torches, and lanterns are hung in every doorway. Those whose friends have only lately left them make this night a true memorial to their dead, going out to the cemeteries, where they offer prayers, burn incense, light lanterns and fill bamboo vases with the flowers they have brought. On the evening of the third day the Ghosts of the Circle of Penance are fed, and those who have no friends living to remember them. Then on every streamlet, every river, lake and bay of Japan—except in the largest seaports, where it is now forbidden—appear fleets of tiny boats, bearing gifts of food and loving farewells. The light of a miniature lantern at its bow and blue wreaths of smoke from burning incense mark the course of each little vessel. In these fairy craft the spirits take their departure for the land of the hereafter.

In September occurs the Moon Festival, which appears to have no religious significance whatever, but to be simply an occasion for enjoying the beauty of the moon. It was doubtless borrowed from the Chinese in the eighth century, and is still celebrated in some places. The ancient Chinese, however, observed it in solemn fashion, going to the top of some pagoda and writing poems about the Queen of the Night, but the Japanese of olden times combined with pure Æsthetic enjoyment the pleasures of actual feasting. They used to gather in the garden of some restaurant by a lake or river, where a banquet of rice dumplings, boiled potatoes and beans was set out, and enjoyed at the same time the good food and the scene before them.

Also in September is the Ayaha Festival, in honour of the two Chinese women who first taught weaving to the Japanese, many centuries ago. These teachers died in September, and on the seventeenth of that month cotton and hempen fabrics are offered to their spirits at the shrines built in their honour.

At the temple of the goddess Amaterasu-Omikami, near Shiba Park, Tokyo, the Shinmei Feast is observed from the eleventh to the twenty-first of September. This is especially the time to offer the petition, "O God, make clean our hearts within us," hence much ginger is sold, the plant being supposed to prevent impurity. A sweetmeat called ame is sold in cypress-wood baskets, curved like the roofs of ancient shrines. Cypress is held sacred because the roof-trees of old shrines were made of it, and is supposed to have the power of warding off diseases.

One of the most curious of all Japanese festivals is the Laughing Festival of Wasa, celebrated in October. A procession is formed of old men carrying boxes full of oranges and persimmons impaled on sharpened sticks, followed by children with the same kinds of fruits on bamboo rods. On reaching the shrine, the leader turns round and makes up a comical face, which is greeted with shouts of laughter.

According to the legend, the gods, once upon a time, met in the great temple at Izumo to consider the love affairs of the kingdom. When all were seated, one alone, Miwa-Daimyo-jin, was missing, and although search was made, he could not be found. Now, this god was so deaf that he had misunderstood the day appointed for the assembly, and he appeared at Izumo only after all was over. The Laughing Festival commemorates the laughter of the gods when they heard of poor Miwa-Daimyo-jin's mistake.

Another October celebration is held in memory of Nichiren, called the Luther of Japan, who endeavoured to purify Buddhism from the superstitions that had crept into it. He was the founder of the sect named for him. On October thirteenth great numbers of his disciples assemble at Ikegami, the place of his death, near Tokyo, carrying lanterns and banners, and reciting a sutra in concert.

A curious feast is observed by merchants on the twentieth of October in honour of Ebisu, one of the seven gods of good luck, who is especially the guardian genius of tradesmen. They invite their friends and relatives to a banquet, upon which a large picture of the god looks down from the wall. Fishes, called tai, are laid before this picture as offerings, and are also eaten by the guests. After the feast has proceeded a little way, sport begins. Perhaps one of the guests starts an auction of the dishes before him, his companions bidding up to thousands of yen, [6] the joke continuing until it runs itself out. This little buying and selling episode is to emphasize the fact that it is a merchants' festival that is being celebrated.

The present Emperor's birthday is the thirty-first of August, but henceforth it is to be celebrated on the thirty-first of October, which brings it very near to the third of November, the late Emperor's birthday, so long a holiday all over Japan. Although this is one of the annual festivities, the celebration is so largely official and diplomatic that I have described it among Court Functions.

The fall matsuri in Tokyo is held early in November at the Shokonsha, a temple sacred to the memory of the patriots who have given their lives for their country. It is especially a soldiers' festival, and is the occasion when the garrison comes in a body to worship at this shrine. The troops form by divisions in front of the temple and salute, presenting arms while the bugles sound a sacred call. Afterward the soldiers have a race-meeting on a half-mile track, which is made very amusing by the rivalry between the different divisions and the mad careerings of the little horses. This is a large matsuri, and the booths of peddlers and mountebanks line the streets for blocks.

November eighth is the day of the Fuigo Matsuri, when thanks are returned to the god of fire, who invented the bellows—Fuigo meaning bellows. As the centre of the worship of this god is in Kyoto, it is observed to a greater extent there than elsewhere, beginning in a curious way, by opening the windows before sunrise and throwing out quantities of oranges to the children who are always waiting outside.

The Japanese counterpart of our New England Thanksgiving occurs the twenty-third of November, when the Emperor is the chief celebrant, making an offering of the new rice of the year before the shrine of his ancestors, and in behalf of the nation uttering a prayer of thanksgiving and a plea for protection. After presenting this offering His Majesty partakes of a sacred feast, consisting of the first fruits of the year, and the next day he invites the highest officials of the State to a grand banquet at the palace.

Near the end of December comes the Kamado-harai Feast of the Oven. The kamado is the fire-box on which the food is cooked, and it has a god of its own. As the year draws to a close, the god of the kamado carries to heaven a report of the conduct of the household during the twelve months. So the priests are called in to pray the oven-god that he will give as favourable an account as possible. As modern stoves are now taking the place of the old kamado to some extent, this feast is less observed in the larger cities than in the country districts.

At a shrine in Shimonoseki the festival of Wakamegari-no Shinji is observed on the thirty-first of December. A flight of stone steps leads through a stone torii down into the sea far below the lowest tide-mark. The Shinto priests, in full robes, are obliged to descend these steps on the feast-day until they reach and cut some of the seaweed (wakame), which they offer at the temple the next day. Japanese legend relates that the Empress Jingo sailed from this spot to the conquest of Korea, bearing two jewels that were given her by the god of this shrine. When off the Korean coast, she threw one jewel into the water, and a flood tide at once bore her ships high up on the shore; then she tossed the other gem into the waves, and the swift ebbing of the tide left the fleet safely stranded.