Right round the temple there is a nice garden which keeps the priest’s man, a picturesque, sweet-tempered, guileless old fellow, occupied much of his time.  The priest conducted a service twice a day, at 5:30 in the morning and at 7:30 in the evening.  When he fell ill and had to be carried in a litter to the nearest town for an operation, we missed his beautiful chanting and expert sounding of the deep-toned gong of the sanctuary.  The great bell in the court-yard was struck by the priest’s boy at sundown.  The priest kept the old rule against meat.  He and his wife would not eat even cake or biscuits because they feared that there might be milk and butter in them.  The couple were very kind to us and we enjoyed a delightfully quiet life in the lofty sunny temple rooms.  I should judge that Otera San (Mr. Temple) was respected in the village.  His wife was a bustling woman of such sweetness and simplicity of nature as can only be found in a far valley.

I have mentioned that the total incomings of the priest are probably about 250 yen.  He receives no salary but has his house free.  He must “discuss about anything wanted in the temple.”  I do not suppose he had to ask anybody whether he might lodge us or not.  He receives considerable gifts of rice, perhaps to the value of 120 yen, at any rate enough for the whole year.  He has also the rent of the “glebe,” which consists of 12 tan of paddy, 2 tan of dry field and 10 tan of woodland.  Then there are the gifts which are made to him at funerals and for the services he conducts at the villagers’ houses on the days of the dead.  One day during the Bon season every household sent a little girl or boy with a present to the priest.  In return these small visitors were given sweets.  During the Bon season some very old men of the village came and worshipped at the Shinto shrine and were entertained with sake by the priest on the engawa of his temple.  The amount in the collecting box in front of the little Shinto shrine in the temple yard, largely in rin, would not be more than 10 or 15 sen in the year.  Most of the contributions are in the form of pinches of rice.  The priest may give 10 yen a year to his man who works about the temple and his house and accompanies him to funerals and to the memorial services at the villagers’ dwellings; but this servitor, like his master, no doubt receives presents.

The Shinto priest is probably not so well off as the Buddhist priest.  The village makes a small payment to him twice a year.  At New Year 3 yen in all may be flung in the collecting box at the shrine, but the priest has presents made to him when he goes to see ailing folk and when he officiates at the building of a new house.  Most people when they are ill seem to send for the Shinto priest.  But he explained to me that he does not expect a sick man to “worship only.”  He is accustomed to say to the people, “Doctor first, god second,” from which I was to conclude, one who heard told me, that the priest was “rather a civilised man.”  The Shinto priest had succeeded a relative in his position.  The village had found its Buddhist priest in a neighbouring district.