ord of the small
bell above her head to awaken the attention of the Deity, and then
with joined hands encircled with beads and with bowed head whispered
her morning prayer. I just caught in soft, supplicatory accents the
opening words, "Namu Amida Butsu"--"Hear me, compassionate Lord
Buddha"--words that soon become familiar as one visits these temples;
the great refrain of these people's prayers when they pray before the
image of "Him, honoured, wisest, best, most pitiful, whose lips
comfort the world." And then, having finished her prayers, the little
woman pattered back to her home in the town below, while others come
and make their devotions likewise, all leaving the temple as if that
placid, inscrutable image had whispered in the ear of each some word
of comfort.

In the courtyard beyond the great Temple of Kiomidyu I came upon a
wonderful bell. There was room for over a dozen men to stand inside
the great bronze shell. It was hung just above the ground between
plain timber uprights, and the mellow softness of tone was accounted
for by the way in which it was struck. Instead of metal striking
against metal a great tree-trunk is suspended horizontally outside;
this is swung backwards and forwards and then allowed to strike
against the metal. Even when standing close to it there is nothing one
would call noise, but a great, full, rich sound fills the air in a
manner impossible to describe. I passed on to the latticed shrine
dedicated to Kamnoshut No Kami, the goddess of lovers. As I waited
there three little Japanese girls came up the steps. Each had a small
piece of paper in her hand, and winding them up they deftly placed the
papers in the lattice with the thumb and little finger of their hands.
On these were written their petitions. One of them held a bunch of
brilliant maple leaves in her hand, and judging from their
faces--plain little faces all of them--it was easy to understand they
wanted divine assistance in their love affairs. It was difficult to
understand the goddess retaining any reputation for compassion if
their prayers were not answered. After they had gone next came a
dainty little geisha, a pretty girl, whose lover must have been a sad
worry to her, judging by the look on her anxious little face, as she
placed her petition between the bars.

All through these temples it was obvious that the agnosticism, or
indifference, or attitude of "politeness towards possibilities," which
has apparently taken