The men, on the other hand, wear many a pot hat, pompously added to
the long national robe, and giving thereby a finishing touch to their
cheerful ugliness, resembling nothing so much as dancing monkeys. They
carry boughs in their hands, whole shrubs, even, amidst the foliage of
which dangle all sorts of curious lanterns in the shape of imps and
birds.

As we advance in the direction of the temple, the streets become more
noisy and crowded. All along the houses are endless stalls raised on
trestles, displaying sweetmeats of every color, toys, branches of
flowers, nosegays, and masks. There are masks everywhere, boxes full
of them, carts full of them; the most popular being the one that
represents the livid and cunning muzzle, contracted as by a deathlike
grimace, the long straight ears, sharp-pointed teeth of the white fox,
sacred to the God of Rice. There are also others symbolic of gods or
monsters, livid, grimacing, convulsed, with wigs and beards of natural
hair. All manner of folk, even children, purchase these horrors, and
fasten them over their faces. Every sort of instrument is for sale,
amongst them many of those crystal trumpets which sound so
strangely,--this evening they are enormous, six feet long at
least,--and the noise they make is unlike anything ever heard before:
one would say gigantic turkeys gobbling amongst the crowd, and
striving to inspire fear.

In the religious amusements of this people it is not possible for us
to penetrate the mysteriously hidden meaning of things; we cannot
divine the boundary at which jesting stops and mystic fear steps in.
These customs, these symbols, these masks, all that tradition and
atavism have jumbled together in the Japanese brain, proceed from