ern
the religious significance or the inner thoughts and emotions of the
pilgrims. The former is discernible at a glance, without knowledge of
the Japanese language or sympathy with the religious heart; the latter
can be discovered only by him who intimately understands the people,
their language and their religion.

If religion were necessarily gloomy, festivals and merry-making would
be valid proof of Japanese religious deficiency. But such is not the
case. Primitive religions, like primitive people, are artless and
simple in religious joy as in all the aspects of their life. Developed
races increasingly discover the seriousness of living, and become
correspondingly reflective, if not positively gloomy. Religion shares
this transformation. But those religions in which salvation is a
prominent idea, and whose nature is such as to satisfy at once the
head and the heart, restore joyousness as a necessary consequence.
While certain aspects of Christianity certainly have a gloomy
look,--which its critics are much disposed to exaggerate, and then to
condemn,--yet Christianity at heart is a religion of profound joy, and
this feature shows itself in such universal festivals as Christmas and
Easter. Even though the Japanese popular religious life showed itself
exclusively in festivals and on occasions of joy, therefore, that
would not prove them to be inherently lacking in religious nature.

But there is another set of phenomena, even more impressive to the
candid and sympathetic student. It is the presence in every home of
the "Butsu-dan," or Buddha shelf, and the "Kami-dana," or God shelf.
The former is Buddhist, and the latter Shinto. Exclusive Shintoists,
who are rare, have the latter alone. Where both are found, the
"I-hai," ancestral memorial tablets, are placed on the "Butsu-dan";
otherwise they are placed on the "Kami-dana." The Kami-dana are always
quite simple, as are all Shinto charms and utensils. The Butsu-dan are
usually elaborate and beautiful, and sometimes large and costly. The
universality of these tokens of family religion, and the constant and
loving care bestowed upon them, are striking testimony to the
universality of the religion in Japan. The pathos of life is often
revealed by the faithful devotion of the mother to these silent
representatives of divine beings and departed ancestors or children. I
have no hesitation in saying that, so far as external appearances go,
the average home in Japan is far m