ce. But I repeated the service and performed
the rites only as a matter of business;--I thought only of the food and
the clothes that my sacred profession enabled me to gain. And because
of this selfish impiety I was reborn, immediately after my death, into
the state of a jikininki. Since then I have been obliged to feed upon
the corpses of the people who die in this district: every one of them I
must devour in the way that you saw last night... Now, reverend Sir,
let me beseech you to perform a Segaki-service [2] for me: help me by
your prayers, I entreat you, so that I may be soon able to escape from
this horrible state of existence"...

No sooner had the hermit uttered this petition than he disappeared; and
the hermitage also disappeared at the same instant. And Muso Kokushi
found himself kneeling alone in the high grass, beside an ancient and
moss-grown tomb of the form called go-rin-ishi, [3] which seemed to be
the tomb of a priest.

MUJINA

On the Akasaka Road, in Tokyo, there is a slope called
Kii-no-kuni-zaka,--which means the Slope of the Province of Kii. I do
not know why it is called the Slope of the Province of Kii. On one side
of this slope you see an ancient moat, deep and very wide, with high
green banks rising up to some place of gardens;--and on the other side
of the road extend the long and lofty walls of an imperial palace.
Before the era of street-lamps and jinrikishas, this neighborhood was
very lonesome after dark; and belated pedestrians would go miles out of
their way rather than mount the Kii-no-kuni-zaka, alone, after sunset.

All because of a Mujina that used to walk there. (1)

The last man who saw the Mujina was an old merchant of the Kyobashi
quarter, who died about thirty years ago. This is the story, as he told
it:--

One night, at a late hour, he was hurrying up the Kii-no-kuni-zaka,
when he perceived a woman crouching by the moat, all alone, and weeping
bitterly. Fearing that she intended to drown herself, he stopped to
offer her any assistance or consolation in his power. She appeared to
be a slight and graceful person, handsomely dressed; and her hair was
arranged like that of a young girl of good family. "O-jochu," [1] he
exclaimed, approaching her,--"O-jochu, do not cry like that!... Tell me
what the trouble is; and if there be any way to help you, I shall be
glad to help you." (He really meant what he said; for he was a very
kind man.) But she continued to weep,-