I have used the phrase “Buddhist temple” loosely and may do so again, for it conveys an idea which “Buddhist church” does not.  A temple (do) is properly an edifice in which a Buddha is enshrined.  This building is not for services or burial ceremonies or anniversary offerings for departed souls.  It may or may not have a guardian (domori).  He is never a priest with a shaven head.  A Buddhist church (tera) is a place where adherents go as anniversaries come round or for sermons.  It possesses a priest.  There is a considerable difference in the style of Buddhist edifices according to their denomination—­Zen buildings are particularly plain—­but all are more elaborate than Shinto shrines.

A large Shinto shrine is called yashiro (house of god); a small one hokora.  A hokora is transportable.  Originally it was and in some places it still is a perishable wooden shrine thatched with reed or grass straw which is renewed at the spring and autumn festivals.  It may be less than two feet high and may be made of stone or wood.  But it cannot be regarded as a building.  Inside there are gohei (upright sticks with paper streamers).  In a rich man’s house a hokora may be seven or eight feet high or bigger than the smallest yashiro, and may be embellished with colour and metal.

Returning to Buddhism, if a priest has a son he may be succeeded by him.  But many Buddhist priests marry late and have no children.  Or their children do not want to be priests.  So the priest adopts a successor.  Sometimes he maintains an orphan as acolyte or coadjutor.  During the day this assistant goes to school.  In the evenings and during holidays he is taught to become a priest.  When the primary-school education is finished the lad may be sent by his patron, if he is well enough off, to a school of his sect at Kyoto or Tokyo.

My travelling companion spoke of the infiltration of new ideas in town and country.  “A mixing is taking place in the heart and head of everybody who is not a bigot.  But I don’t know that some kinds of Christianity are to do much for us.  I heard the other day of a Japanese Presbyterian who was preaching with zest about hell fire.  Generally speaking, our old men are looking to the past and our young men are aspiring, but not all.  Some are content if they can live uncriticised by their neighbours.  When they become old they may begin to think of a future life and visit temples.  But as young men their thoughts are fully occupied by things of this world.”

In the office of the headman whom I mentioned a page or so back, there was behind his chair a kakemono which read, “Reflecting and Examining One’s Inner Spirit.”  We passed a night in the old house of this headman, who was a poet and a country gentleman of a delightful type.  Being an eldest son he had married young, and his relations with his eldest boy, a frank and clever lad, were pleasant to