Jinrikisha Days in Japan
gold, with the gray and white tiles of their picturesque roofs half overgrown with mosses and vines, the topmost ridge finished with a tapering, spiral piece of iron, delight the lover of the picturesque. Yasaka’s cracked and tongueless bells have long ceased to swing and ring with every breeze, but they give an airy and fantastic touch to the fine old structure. The pagoda dates from the sixth century, and for twelve hundred years its four altars have heard the prayers of faithful Buddhists. The early light gilds its eastern wall, and the rich sunset makes of it a palace of the imagination. To me it seemed most beautiful one late afternoon, when, hurrying down the steep steps of a narrow street behind it, I saw its outlines, delicate and strong, against a glowing orange sky.
All about the pagoda and the neighboring slopes of Kiomidzu are potteries and shops for the sale of the cheap porcelain and earthen-ware that pilgrims and visitors are prone to buy on their way to and from the temples. The eminence is known as Teapot Hill, and the long, steep street leading from Gojo bridge to the Kiomidzu gates is lined on either side of its hilly half-mile with china shops. There one may collect his three hundred and sixty-five teapots in an hour, and few leave without a souvenir of Kiomidzu porcelain, be it from Kanzan’s or Dohachi’s godowns of exquisite wares, or from the long rows of charming little open shops. Kiomidzu is the centre of the porcelain-makers’ district, as the manufacturers of faience are grouped together in the Awata quarter, a mile beyond, and behind the little shop-fronts and blank walls are busy work-rooms and burning kilns.
The founding of the Kiomidzu temple is lost in fable, and its legends are many and confusing. All the Japanese rulers, warriors, and Shoguns have had something to do with the place, and every foot of its enclosure is historic. It is the popular temple of the people, enshrin-
228
