nuns with bald shiny pates and
grotesque faces, a few petty tradesmen, and half-a-dozen chubby
children, perfect little models of decorum and devoutness. One lady
there was, indeed, who seemed a little better to do in the world than
the rest; she was nicely dressed, and attended by a female servant;
she came in with a certain little consequential rustle, and displayed
some coquetry, and a very pretty bare foot, as she took her place,
and, pulling out a dandy little pipe and tobacco-pouch, began to
smoke. Fire-boxes and spittoons, I should mention, were freely handed
about; so that half-an-hour which passed before the sermon began was
agreeably spent. In the meanwhile, mass was being celebrated in the
main hall of the temple, and the monotonous nasal drone of the plain
chant was faintly heard in the distance. So soon as this was over, the
lay clerk sat himself down by the hanging drum, and, to its
accompaniment, began intoning the prayer, "Na Mu Miyo Ho Ren Go Kiyo,"
the congregation fervently joining in unison with him. These words,
repeated over and over again, are the distinctive prayer of the
Buddhist sect of Nichiren, to which the temple Cho-o-ji is dedicated.
They are approximations to Sanscrit sounds, and have no meaning in
Japanese, nor do the worshippers in using them know their precise
value.

Soon the preacher, gorgeous in red and white robes, made his
appearance, following an acolyte, who carried the sacred book called
_Hokke_ (upon which the sect of Nichiren is founded) on a tray covered
with scarlet and gold brocade. Having bowed to the sacred picture
which hung over the _tokonoma_--that portion of the Japanese room
which is raised a few inches above the rest of the floor, and which is
regarded as the place of honour--his reverence took his seat at the
table, and adjusted his robes; then, tying up the muscles of his face
into a knot, expressive of utter abstraction, he struck the bell upon
the table thrice, burnt a little incense, and read a passage from the
sacred book, which he reverently lifted to his head. The congregation
joined in chorus, devout but unintelligent; for the Word, written in
ancient Chinese, is as obscure to the ordinary Japanese worshipper as
are the Latin liturgies to a high-capped Norman peasant-woman. While
his flock wrapped up copper cash in paper, and threw them before the
table as offerings, the priest next recited a passage alone, and the
lay clerk irreverently entered into a l