-gwan-ji. The paintings and decorations of this temple,
one of the ladies says with something akin to enthusiasm, are quite equal
to those of the great temple at Nikko. This lady appears to be a
missionary resident, or, at all events, a person well versed in Japanese
temples and things. Her companions are fleeting tourists, who listen to
her explanations with respect, but, like myself, know nothing more when
they leave the temple than when they entered. Japanese mythology,
religion, temples, politics, history, and titles, seem to me to be the
worst mixed up and the most difficult for off-hand comprehension of
anything I have yet undertaken to peep into. The multitudinous gods of
the Hindoos, with their no less multitudinous functions, seem to me to be
easily understood in comparison with the weird legends and mazy mythology
of the Flowery Kingdom.

Near this temple is a lovely little garden that gives much more
satisfaction to the casual visitor than the temples. It is always a
pleasure to visit a Japanese garden, and, in addition to its landscape
attractions, historical interest lends to this one additional charm. The
artificial lake is stocked with tame carp, which come crowding to the
side when visitors clap their hands, in the expectation of being fed. A
pair of unhappy-looking geese are imprisoned beneath an iron grating
within the garden. They are kept there in commemoration of some
historical incident; what the incident is, however, even the
well-informed lady of the party doesn't seem to know; neither does
Murray's voluminous guide-book condescend to explain. A small palace,
with interior decorations of the usual conventional subjects--storks,
flying geese, rising moons, bamboo-shoots, etc.--together with a
small, round, thatched summer-house, where, five hundred years ago,
Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, the Shogun monk, was wont to pass the time in
meditation, form the remaining sole attractions of the garden.

The one place I have been anticipating some real pleasure in visiting is
the Shu-gaku-In gardens, one of the most famous gardens in this country
where, above all others, gardening is pursued as a fine art. This,
however, is not accessible to-day, and wearied already of temples, gods,
and shaven-pated priests, I give the jin-rikisha-coolie orders to return
home. A mile or two through the smooth and level streets and the hopeful
and sanguine "riksha" man dumps me out at another temple. Fancying that,
perchance, he