ing their babies on their backs, sat in rows on mats, while one or two chairs were placed for foreign visitors. All joined heartily in the hymns and listened attentively to the simple prayers. Sometimes a shōji, or sliding shutter, was gently pushed aside, and an inquisitive face peered in on the worshippers. The missionary, a man of athletic frame, with the cold, fixed eyes of a fanatic, preached with fervour on the subject of original sin. He held the doctrine that perfection was to be realised on earth, and believed that he had personally attained it. From all accounts he was a hard-working idealist, who spared no pains to make converts, but his ascetic views must seem violently out of harmony with the Shintoist easy-going faith, which has for moral code the single maxim, "Follow your impulses and obey the Emperor." Although not subjected to persecution, a native Christian hardly ever remains in his birthplace. The Matsuë converts whom we met had come from Hiroshima, Ōsaka, and other spots. Some estimate of the progress of Western religion among Matsuë merchants may be based on the proportion of believers in the middle school, to which all the boys of the better classes are sent. Out of about five hundred boys and sixty masters, two boys and one master profess Christianity.
Etiquette is luckily assimilated to foreign custom among Japanese Christians. When Judge Nomura returned my call, he was accompanied by his wife and little girls, who were delighted with some dolls and picture-books which I had purchased for them in London. At first O Ai San and O Dai San, diminutive damsels aged four and five respectively, sat solemnly in a corner burning fireworks hana-bi, as they are called with tied tongues and eyes fixed on
