CHAPTER XII.

We have a great many other holidays; it is impossible to speak of them

all. Simply to name some, there are God Fox's day on the second of the

second month; the Feast of Dolls, for little girls, on the third of the

third month; the Feast of Flags for little boys on the fifth of the

fifth month; the ablution mass in the sixth month; the Tanabata (eve of

the seventh) on the seventh of the seventh month; the day of

chrysanthemum flowers and the festival of Inoko late in the fall, not to

mention festivals of several local deities. The vital importance of

these holidays to us children centered in the dainties and delicacies

with which our mothers and sisters served us then and not often at

ordinary times. We enjoy boiled red beans and rice on the second of

February; rice-flour cakes wrapped in the leaves of a species of oak

called kashiwa on the fifth of May; rice-flour cakes daubed with the an

on the day of the Buddhistic ceremony of ablution; roast and boiled

chestnuts and rice and chestnuts on the ninth of September; and the saké

on almost all occasions, but with a spray of peach blossom inserted in

the bottle on the third of March, and a bunch of chrysanthemum flowers

on the chrysanthemum day.

In Tanabata and Inoko the boys of the town used to club together on

payment of a small fee, the biggest among them presiding over their

affairs by common consent. Our first work is to canvass such houses in

consecutive order as have large front rooms, soliciting their owners to

loan us the room for a few days for a temporary club-house, free of

charge. And when we are given by a generous man the use of his house,

thither we convey our common property. The property comprises the scroll

gods, a holy mirror, the golden gohĕi (a sacred brass ornament), a pair

of pewter saké bottles, splendid curtains, a large number of the sambo

(offering stand of white wood, sometimes varnished), countless Japanese

lanterns, timber and board ready to be put together for an altar looking

like a staircase, Chinese crimson felt carpets, several drums and

certain kinds of bells. These things have been handed down to us by

successive generations of boys, repaired each year and additions made by

donations or by "chipping in," and all nicely packed in chests, on the

sides and covers of which we read the names of some that have died, and

of others that are yet living though well-nigh to the grave. The boys

take good care of the old heirlooms, that they may transmit them without

injury to their successors. The older boys take the things out and set

up a place of worship; on the days of festivity the members come to the

headquarters with their lunch-boxes well stocked. We assemble not to

worship really, you might as well understand now, but to have a good

time. Fruits and cakes have been taken in by the managers from the

wholesale merchants, and are piled up in pyramids on the samboes upon

the steps of the altar; they are to be divided equally among the

stockholders afterwards. The lanterns are lighted brilliantly at night;

a special lantern is hoisted on a very high pole planted before the

house to signify our quarters.

At Tanabata we march through the streets with green bamboo trees,

rending the air with certain shouts and beating the instruments, and

upon meeting the boys of other streets have a scuffle. The scene is a

confusion of bamboos and bits of rainbow-colored papers which are tied

plentifully to the branches. After a hot contest we come home to the

club, eat a hearty lunch and celebrate the incidents of our victory. The

day after the festival we take our bamboos to the sea and cast them off

to be drifted away by the waves and finally up to the Heavenly Stream or

the Milky Way, where the gods may read our wishes written on the

rainbow-colored papers. On this day everybody goes swimming, because the

sea-monkey is handcuffed that can lengthen one arm enormously at the

expense of the other, and draws in and drowns people, especially boys

who go swimming in opposition to their mothers' remonstrance.

At Inoko we bring forth our gorin. A gorin is a spherical stone, usually

granite, with an iron belt loose in a groove around the great

circumference; the belt has many small rings through it. A club of boys

possesses five to ten gorins of various sizes. To the rings are attached

ropes, and calling at the families to which came male offspring during

the year, the boys utter words of blessing and pound the ground by

pulling up and down the solid stone. After a series of thumps a

depression is left behind. We hold gorin collisions with neighboring

powers. A challenge is sent to other clubs to meet us with their best

gorin on neutral ground at such a time, that we may know which is

stronger. The war gorin is equipped for the contest with a network of

ropes, exposing a portion of the surface that shall deal the blow; the

leading boys guide it in the battle by several strong ropes. Generally

in the collision more noise is heard than the clash; however, not rarely

the contest is kept up until one or the other splits through the core,

and the opposition is so strong as to cause older people to interfere in

the affair, because it infallibly entails unpleasant feeling between the

parties and a scrimmage at all times. I call to mind that our club used

to plume itself upon the strength and durability of its gorins; no, not

one received so much as a crack, albeit many and severe were the tests

to which they had been subjected.

Besides the gorin sports, at Inoko we get up wrestling matches. On the

yard of the club-house we build a circular bank of clay and fill the

inside with sand; in this all the members contend in practice. Small as

I was, I did not like to be thought out of fashion, and to pay for my

uncalled-for prowess suffered from sores and bruises. In a body we visit

the headquarters of the other clubs and negotiate the matches, which

take place immediately on the spot in full view of both parties.

The ceremony of ablution is chiefly observed by Shinto priests. (Shinto

is the native faith, holding up the sun for the center figure of worship

and eight millions of spirits besides.) The way they observe it in my

province consists in setting up in the temple-yard three large hoops of

the sasaki tree (sacred to Shintoism) and inviting the people to pass

through them. The hoops are supposed to take up the people's sins and

transgressions, leaving them clean and fit for the further grace of the

gods. Thus loaded with the earthly corruptions and loathsome pollutions

of man, the round bands of the fresh, green trees, thickly stuck with

zigzag white paper hangings, at the end of the day are taken to running

water and washed thoroughly or more commonly committed to the sea.

At about the same time Buddhist priests hold mass for dead sinners. The

different sects have different notions. My family were formerly

parishioners to a temple of the Hokké sect; therefore. I best remember

the mass as observed by that particular denomination. The church society

and its officers meet in the vestry to take action in the preparation of

floating lanterns. These are hasty, rude contrivances which the active

of the parishioners volunteer in getting up; it does not require much

skill in carpentry to make them, but it takes time to make so many. Look

at one: an odd piece of board for the bottom, two split bamboos bent and

stuck on it like the handle of a basket one across the other, and a hood

of paper glued round the whole; a nail in the center holds a penny

candle. All very inartistic indeed, as befits their use, as we shall see

presently.

On the mass day all about the temple are strung up an untold number of

the lanterns. Now, devout old folks and young come in streams all day to

put up prayers for their beloved dead, and those so inclined buy the

lanterns for the purpose of lighting the way for the departed. The goods

when paid for are handed over by the presiding elders, who have charge

of the sale, to the priest and assistant priests; they write sûtra

verses on them and order them to be left before the altar. If business

is good, by the latter part of the evening the entire stock is disposed

of; the till rattles with money, and the priests are in good cheer. Then

follows a great chanting and beating of drums, and after prayers have

been said once for all, the lanterns are put on board several boats and

the drums and cymbals also carried to enliven the next scene; the

priests and committee walk down to the shore slowly. Things being placed

aright, out they pull on the heaving sea--the incoming tide having been

looked to beforehand, so that at high tide the lighted lanterns may be

set afloat and go drifting at their will with the falling flood.

Ah, they are gone, the skiffs! We discern them no more. I want you to

understand that it is a dark night, otherwise my picture isn't so good,

although in point of fact the moon does often chance to look up on the

occasion. And the moonlight on the swelling tide is not very bad, I

acknowledge, yet, you see, I wish to preserve the grand effect of "fire

and darkness." So, pray, gentle reader, indulge my fancy this time; I

won't always ask this. Well, it's a dark night then: as the boats slip

out of our sight we can hear the lapping noise that comes of their

swaying from side to side caused by the queer Japanese mode of sculling.

Ere long we cease to hear it; the vessels are well out in the obscurity.

Do we not see anything of them? Not quite. The lights they convey show

us their whereabouts. We are all this while on shore, mind you. The

onset of water seems to take uncommon delight in driving us up,

chuckling to itself along the beach, until at last we are crowded into a

narrow strip of sand with the rest of the spectators. There! it's up to

the high-water-mark; we won't be annoyed any longer. Let's sit down.

While we watch, ten thousand points of light dot the expanse; no finer

illumination, I for one, ever expect to see on earth; and soon there

blazes out a great ruddy flame from the chief priest's boat amid the

confused echoes of prayers on all the vessels. That is the end of it,

friends; sit still and look on, if you choose,--many indeed do so--and

observe the lights recede and drift away, or die out. Of these some

never return and are believed to have gone where they were bidden,

others and a majority, to be frank with you, are washed ashore next

morning shattered into fragments.