daimyōs, and grandees of the past. He who used to be called the Iki-gami—said to descend from Susa-no-o-no-Mikoto—is a fine portly man, with a full beard. The ceremonial was imposing, and the sense of the immense antiquity and dignity of the cult, and of the generations of its officiants, might have impressed even a more unbelieving mind than my own.

The temple is really very noble, with its huge pillars, and the solidity of its vast beamwork. Since the prehistoric era it has been rebuilt 28 times. It is said to be the oldest of all Shintō places of worship, and holier than Ise. There are many curiosities and valuable historical documents. The chief shrine faces west,—unlike others.

We were shown the primitive method of lighting the sacred fire—a simple board in holes of which a rapidly revolving stick kindles the spark. Also we saw the hierophantic dance, and heard the strange old song sung—An-un—to the accompaniment of sticks tapped on curiously shaped wooden boxes, or drums.

Subsequently we were invited to the house of Mr. Senke, where other curious things were shown to us. I have had a rare and delightful experience, and I hope to write of it for one of the English reviews later on.

My attendant—unwarrantably, perhaps—mentioned me as a friend of yours; and the statement provoked a murmur of pleasure. Your name is held, I can assure you, in very great reverence at Kizuki; and I feel assured, should you go there, that you would be received as if you were the chief of the Kami. And I am also sure you would like these really fine and noble men.

I have written enough to tire you perhaps, but I believe the subject may, at least, suggest questions of value from you, if not otherwise interesting. Kizuki is certainly the chief place of interest in Izumo; and I have all details and documents. They will take me some months to digest, but I shall do something pretty.

The jinrikisha ride is a little tiring. Kizuki is very, very pretty. From 200,000 to 250,000 pilgrims go there yearly. All day the sound of the clapping of hands is unbroken, like the sound of a cataract. At least it was when I was there.

Best regards to you.

Lafcadio Hearn.

TO BASIL HALL CHAMBERLAIN
Matsue, September, 1890.

Dear Professor,—On second thought I have set to work to obtain the information you wish as fully as possible from trustworthy Japanese,—as I fear it could only be gathered by my own exertions alone, too late to be serviceable. I shall send as soon as possible, and if there be time I will supplement the notes with some observations of my own.

I think I shall be very happy in Matsue, and every one assures me it is not so cold as in Tōkyō in winter, although there is more snow.

On the way here I stopped at a very primitive village where there are volcanic springs, and nearly every house has a “natural bathtub” always hot and fresh. And the good old man in whose house I stopped said he only once before in all his life saw a European,—but he did not know whether the European was a man or a woman. The European had very long hair, of a curious colour, and wore a long dress reaching its feet, and its manners were gentle and kind. I found out afterwards it was a Norwegian missionary-girl, having the courage to travel alone.

Lafcadio Hearn.

TO BASIL HALL CHAMBERLAIN
Matsue, October, 1890.

Dear Professor Chamberlain,—I received your last kind letter just after having posted a note to you. As for what information I could send, I am surprised and delighted to find that it was of some use. I never expected to be so kindly thanked for it,—deeming it too scanty.

I do not think I shall have any difficulty in getting a model made of the fire-drill, which at Kizuki is a thick board of dense white wood, all the holes being drilled near one edge, in an almost parallel line. Perhaps it may take some little time to arrange the matter; but if there be no hurry, I am almost certain I can get the model made. I am a member of the society now for the preservation of the Kizuki buildings, and am sure my request will be kindly considered.

There are coloured prints here enough: Samurai-no-ehon they call the old picture-books here. But they do not relate to Izumo. I hope to procure some soon which will do.

I am more and more impressed with the ascendency of Shintō here. Everybody is a Shintōist; and every house seems to have both its kamidana and its butsudan. One street is almost entirely composed of Buddhist temples—the Teramachi; but all the worshippers also attend the Shintō services on certain days. The charms suspended over doors, etc., are Shintō. Most of the mamori on the kamidana of a house are sure to be Shintō. The Gods (1) Ebisu and (2) Daikoku, here respectively identified with (1) Koto-shiro-nushi-no Kami and (2) Oho-kuni-nushi-no-Kami, are monopolized by Shintō. Its signs and mysteries are everywhere: the atmosphere is full of magic.

I suppose some people would think this sort of worship shocking, but I must say I could not laugh at it: the childish naïveté of the prayers and the offerings—the idea of a kami in the tree, able to heal—seemed to me rather touching than absurd, and delightfully natural. One feels what pastoral life in the antique world must have been, on studying the artless notions of these good country-folk, whom no one could live among without loving,—unless he were strangely brutal or bigoted.

I had to make a speech before the educational association of Izumo the other day, and in citing the labours of Darwin, Lubbock, Huxley, and others, I quoted also Tylor’s delightful little book on Anthropology. My speech was on the Value of the Imagination as a Factor in Education. The Governor ordered it to be translated and printed;—so that I am being for the moment perhaps much more highly considered than I ought to be.

I have become so accustomed to Japanese food and habits, that it would now be painful to me to change them. The only extras, besides sake, which I take, are plenty of fried and raw eggs. So far I am in better health than I hoped to be in Japan.

I am very sorry you are not quite well. Here the weather is what they call “mad weather”—rain alternating with sun, and chilly winds.

With best regards,

Faithfully yours,

Lafcadio Hearn.

TO BASIL HALL CHAMBERLAIN
November, 1890.

Dear Professor Chamberlain,—You will remember having invited humble me to make a few criticisms if I could, about “Things Japanese.” I am now going to pray you with all my heart and soul to change that article about Japanese Music in the next edition of the book. I am, and have been for months unspeakably charmed with Japanese music,—I think it is as dainty and playfully sweet and pretty as the Japanese girls who sing it and play it; and I feel sure there is a very fine subtle art-feeling in it. I am sorry to say, however, that while making this plea, I must in honesty confess that I am not an appreciant of Wagner, and that I have always been much impressed and charmed by primitive music. African