with the river Kamo-gawa, which, either naturally or with a diverted course, runs straight from north to south on the eastern side of the city, and at the foot of lofty hills which also shut it in on that side. On the north-west is another range of hills inclosing the plain in that direction, and on their slopes, as well as on those of the eastern line of hills, stand the chief monasteries in their grounds. When first laid out, the site of the city measured nearly three miles from east to west and a little over the same distance from north to south; the whole of this huge square was surrounded by a double ditch and low wall. Kio the first two syllables of its name, as they are the two last of Tôkiô, means simply "residence of the sovereign." In the very centre of the city rise the strong walls of the large square castle of Ni-jo, that was occupied by the Shôguns when in attendance on the Mikado; not far from which, a little to the northwest, is the larger, but unfortified, inclosure of the Mikado's palace. On the south of the city are the inclosures of the two large monasteries, the Nishi ("western") Hon-gwan-ji and the Higashi ("eastern ”) Hon-gwan-ji, the former being the parent foundation of the two, and in that our quarters were established. The chief buildings of each are erected in the form of a large Maltese cross. The wind is still blowing rather high, so we come down, and after seeing the curious log-built wooden storehouse in the grounds, which dates from the year 1000, we get into the carriages again and drive to the Nishi Hon-gwan-ji, or "western monastery of the real vow." "The vow" was made by Buddha that he would not accept Buddhaship except on the condition that salvation was made attainable for all who should sincerely desire to be born again into his kingdom. The central idea of the sect being salvation by faith, and the merciful power of the Saviour, and not by works or vain repetitions of prayers. We enter by the side gate to the west of the larger one that leads up to the temple itself, and thus come straight into a small courtyard, in front of what are called the state apartments. Here we find that the large audience hall hast been partitioned off with a number of beautiful old screens, into separate chambers for dining and sitting in. The huge size of the whole place impresses us very much, and the wealth of carved wood and painted and lacquered ceilings and old screens painted with all sorts of devices, birds and flowers, trees and blossoms, is most wonderful. The sleeping places, which have all been got ready with European furniture, open out from another large hall into a broad corridor or cloister, which opens again into a garden of trees,

The mats

rock-work, and water, in which are the bathrooms. which cover the interior of all these huge halls have Europeanwove carpets spread over them, so as not to be injured by heavy boots. Here we are luxuriously put up.

After lunch, at 1.30 P.M., we start in a string of jinrikishas through the town of Kiôto for Kiyomidzu, on the slopes of the hills on its eastern side. The streets appear altogether much less affected by contact with Europeans than those at Tôkiô; and the houses here are constructed with lighter roofs, and seem somewhat smaller than in the "eastern capital." The monastery to which we are going can be seen all across the town, standing up in the midst of its green woods. We leave our jinrikishas at the lower gate, where also the abbot meets us, to go the round of the grounds and buildings. It is rather a steep climb up the hill; on the top of this we go into the great hall ("hon-dô "), where is the chief statue of the monastery, Kwan-non, the god of Pity. The great power of the all-compassionate one is symbolised by a thousand hands stretched out to save, and his wisdom and perception by as many heads. In his hands he holds various symbols; it is not supposed he always carries them, any more than that St. Catharine is always walking about with her wheel and open book, or St. Paul with a sword, or St. Giles with his crutch and unicorn. The shrine. containing the statue had not been opened for thirty years, but by the Mikado's desire it was so to-day. The image is carved in wood, and is at least eleven hundred years old, and has always escaped the fire, although the temple has been burnt many times. The figure is a sitting one a little over five feet high, and behind its head is a large golden nimbus. When, by the Mikado's orders, the doors of the shrine were slowly opened for us by the highpriest himself (the lock seemed rusty and the hinges to move somewhat stiffly), the many Japanese standing in the long matted corridor in front availed themselves of the opportunity of revering the Merciful one, who has not thus looked forth upon them since the old order passed away and Japan became open to the foreigner, since the Shogun was overthrown and the Mikado's sway reestablished. Right and left are the usual four Dêva kings or archangels, and at the east end an image of Bi-sha-mon, and on the wall to the right of the shrine hang large pictures of three other statues of the god of Pity. There were fine screens here of bronze and lacquer-work, and several joss-sticks smoking in little vases on the side altars, and a smell of incense pervading the

dimly-lighted hall. From this we go out on to the wooden platform in front, and find that it is a lofty scaffolding of solid beams overhanging the wooded ravine, which sinks away forty or fifty feet immediately below. On the steep sides of this gully the autumnal tints of the red maple leaves here and there are to-day interspersed with the darker green of the pines. The front of this staging used to be a favourite place for suicides, who leapt over and cast themselves down into the arms of the god of Pity. The view looking out from here commands the whole of the town of Kiôto and the country beyond to the west of it. We climbed a little higher to another small hall, in which, also, is an image of the god of Pity, which occupies the site of the wooden hut of Giô-yei, the old man whose form was assumed by the divinity when he appeared here to a novice and ordered the temple to be built. In front of this are tea-houses commanding the same view down the valley. The building next to it contains the statue of the Saviour ("Amida"), supported on either side by Kwan-non (Pity) and Sei-shi (Wisdom). We went up to the top of the pagoda, the interior walls and pillars of which have a number of paintings upon them, which seem, however, to be all peeling off.

We then left the grounds of the temple and came down the hill and visited several of the pottery shops. Into one, Kanzan's, the best of the lot, we went, and saw the different processes of turning and moulding. We tried our own hands at the lathe and turned out one or two little brown teapots in clay. A small stream from the hillside runs through the workshops and ground, and the whole thing reminded us very much of the pottery works we had seen at Lithgow Valley over the Blue Mountains in New South Wales. After buying a few pieces of his workmanship and a china panel or two, then up the hill Shôgun-dzuka ("general's mound"). Here they say, when the capital was removed from Nara, a warrior in full armour and provided with bows and arrows was buried, that his spirit might ever be present thereafter to act as the protecting guardian of the new city. Be this as it may, from the midst of the woods which encircle the "Shôgun's outlook," standing nearly 600 feet above the plain, there is obtained the broadest and most extensive prospect of the sacred city which we have yet had. All the houses are of one height; all their roofs are of one dark brown colour, and not a single chimney among the lot. The number of human beings now sheltered beneath them is over eight hundred thousand; that is, Kiôto is larger than Vienna, or half

as large again as Liverpool, which last city would have to increase more than fifty per cent. in order to equal Kiôto in population. The city is the third in point of population in Japan is divided into sixty-five wards, each of which has its school and its head man. The local governor of the city and county of Kiôto has two secretaries and about 350 subordinates under him. There are four gaols, one supreme court and four inferior ones. It seemed very odd to stand there and look down on what only twenty years ago was the sacred city unapproached by any European. There on the right was the Mikado's palace, now empty, where he was kept and tended as a god in human form. And in the centre rose the walls of what was the Shôgun's castle, now occupied by the prefect. The narrow straight streets looked like so many lines, ruled and measured mathematically. The new American cities are built on the same type with parallel and rightangled streets; in this ancient city, too, as in those new ones, they are simply called First, Second, Third, Fourth, and Fifth Streets. Away to the north, over the plain, rose the summit of Atago-yama, 3,000 feet high, with a clump of trees on its top; and further away to the right can be seen the summit of Hi-yei-zan on the north-east, dusty to-day with a covering of snow. Down below, on the opposite hill, are seen the old Tô-kai-dô and the modern railway running along side by side in the distance: while the cawing of crows, the sound of bells and gongs from temples here and there, and a babble of voices coming up fitfully from the tea-houses below are borne on the wind as it rustles up in little gusts among the pines around. We wondered if we should ever see that other sacred city of Lhassa in Thibet, the only one now whose sanctity remains untouched; before its mystic virtues also crumble and fade and be dissolved like that of so many other shrines and centres of men's faith.

We work our way down the north slopes of the hill to the temple of Gi-on, passing little groups of graves and tombs of monks and others who like to be buried here amongst the trees close to their monasteries. A small monastery with its courts and chambers we come upon, all deserted, forlorn, and falling to pieces. In the great hall, dusty and unswept, stood the usual statue of Buddha. The bell that used to toll for service is still hanging in the courtyard under a sort of wooden lych-gate, but the wooden ram, that was swung at its side to cause it to sound, now lies broken on the ground. Disendowed and dis-established, the whole place is falling into ruins; but even here there are

He

some curiosities still about. Observing some Sanskrit characters cut on a small rock at the foot of the cliff and by the side of a well, after some search we found an old servant of the place, and asked him if there was any tradition connected with them. told us this was the sacred stone where Giô-yei (the god of Pity in disguise) used to come and sit by the side of the hermit or votary, who at the top of the cliff here was doing penance for his sins. From within a little square wooden chapel, in the same grounds, came the voices of the few old monks who still linger about the place. Close concealed behind their papered screens, they were chanting their vespers in response to a priest who intoned. We were told that these are nothing but a series of Sanskrit formulæ, not a word of which they could understand; some of the monasteries chant the formula in a Chinese translation from the Sanskrit, which, however, is just as unintelligible to the Japanese, as the Latin service of the Catholic Church is to the peasantry of Europe, or the old Sclavonic service of the Russian Church to those who hear or take part in it.

When we arrived at the temple of Gi-on (which is Shintô), the head priest met us at the gate. He wears what looks like a very full surplice with baggy sleeves, but its skirts are stiffer than they would be if made of linen, and the whole thing has a sort of yellowish paper look about it. In his hand he holds a little white wooden ruler over a foot long, which is supposed to be the survival of a traditional fan, and on his head is a sort of lacquered black hat crinkled all over, lapping forward in front. This temple is of course, like all Shintô temples, dedicated to the Mikado's ancestors; in this case to the miraculously-begotten five sons and three daughters of the Sun-goddess and her brother; and once a year he sends offerings to them. It is all of plain wood and roofed with bark; round the outside is a granite paling, and the torii is also of granite and was built in 1662 A.D.; the side pillars are thirty feet high and measure eleven feet in circumference.

On from there we went to the great monastery of Chi-on-In (knowledge and grace), founded in 1211 A.D., by En-kô Dai-shi, who at the age of nine entered a seminary, and at the age of ten was admitted to the priesthood. He devoted his life to the study of theology, and founded the Jô-do community (or those who seek the way to the "Pure Land "). He settled at Kiôto in 1207 A.D., founded this monastery, and died five years after, at the age of seventy-nine.

VOL. II.

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