The fashion in which many landowners “despised exertion and lived luxuriously” was another hindrance.  These men looked down on education, “thinking themselves clever because they read the newspapers.”  Landlords of this sort were fond of curios, and kept their capital in such things instead of in agriculture.  Sellers of curios visited the village too often.  A wise man had called the curio-seller the “Spirit of Poverty” (Bimbogami).  He said that the Spirit visited a man when he became rich—­in order to bring curios to him; and again when he became poor—­in order to take them away from him!  After he became poor the Spirit of Poverty never visited him again.

Yet another drawback to rural progress was petty political ambition.  People slandered neighbours who belonged to another party and they would not associate with them.  Such party feeling was one of the bad influences of civilisation.

Further, “a mercenary spirit and materialism” had to be fought in the village.  There was not, however, much trouble due to drink, and there was no gambling now.  There might still be impropriety between young people—­formerly young men used to visit the factory girls—­but it was rare.  Lately there had been land speculation, and some of those who made money went to tea-houses to see geisha.

There was in the neighbourhood, this Buddhist pastor went on, a temple belonging to the same sect as his own, and he was on friendly terms with its priest.  It was good discipline, he said, for two priests to be working near one another if they were of the same sect, for their work was compared.  In answer to my enquiry, the old man said that he preached four days a month.  Each service consisted of reading for an hour and then preaching for two hours.  About 150 or 200 persons would attend.  He had also a service every morning from five to six.  In addition to these gatherings in the temple he conducted services in farmers’ houses.  “I feel rather ashamed sometimes,” he said, “when I listen to the good sermons of Christians.”

As the priest was taking leave he told me that he was going to a farmer’s house in order to conduct a service.  I asked to be allowed to accompany him.  He kindly agreed, and invited me to stay the night in his temple.

When I reached the farmhouse there were there about two dozen kneeling people, including members of the family.  On the coming of the priest, who had gone to the temple to put on his robes, the farmer threw open the doors of the family shrine and lighted the candles in it.  The priest knelt down by the shrine and invited me to kneel near him.  In a few words he told the people why I was in the district.  Whereupon the farmer’s aged mother piped, “We heard that a tall man had come, but to think that we should see him and be in the same room with him!”