ed spectators. The ceremony lasted two hours. It carried us
magically away from a Japan of frock coats to Japan of a thousand, it
may be two thousand years ago. Between the wail of ancient wood and
wind instruments and the cinema operators who missed nothing external
and some bored top-hatted spectators who furtively puffed a cigarette
before the ceremony came to an end,[82] what a gulf! Platter after
platter of food, sometimes rice, sometimes vegetables, sometimes
fruit, sometimes a big fish, was passed by one priest to another in
the sunlight until all the offerings were reverently placed by a
special dignitary on one of those unpainted, unvarnished, undecorated
but exquisitely proportioned altars which are an artistic glory of
Shintoism. The shrine was wholly open on the side of the rice field,
and the high priest was in full view as he stood before the altar with
bowed head and folded hands, his robe caught by the breeze, and
delivered in a loud voice his zealous invocation. His words were
stressed not only by an acolyte who twanged the strings of a venerable
harp, but by the song of a lark which rose with the first strains of
the harpist. The purpose of the ceremony was to call down the gods and
to gain their blessing for the crop and the new reign. At the moment
of highest solemnity the thousands assembled bowed their heads: the
gods were deigning to descend and accept the offering. More ancient
music, more ceremonial, and the gods having been called upon to return
to high heaven, the laden platters were gravely removed, and the rice
planting in the adjoining field began. To the sound of drum the young
men and women in special costumes strode through the wicket into the
mud of the paddies, and, under the supervision of the director of the
prefectural agricultural experiment station in a silk hat, planted out
the tufts of rice seedlings in scrupulously measured rows.

I asked a distinguished Japanese who was standing near me--he is a
Christian--how many of the educated people in the assembly believed
that the gods had descended. His answer was, "I may not believe that
the gods of a truth descended, but I find something beautiful in
calling on the gods with a harp of Old Japan, and I do believe that
our humble and natural offering to-day may be acceptable to whatever
gods there may be and that it is a worthy exercise for us to undertake
and may also be conducive to a good harvest." My friend attempted the
following