an abomination to the elder gods. But wherever Buddhism lives
there is incense. In every house containing a Buddhist shrine or
Buddhist tablets, incense is burned at certain times; and in even
the rudest country solitudes you will find incense smouldering
before wayside images,--little stone figures of Fudo, Jizo, or
Kwannon. Many experiences of travel,--strange impressions of
sound as well as of sight,--remain associated in my own memory
with that fragrance:--vast silent shadowed avenues leading to
weird old shrines;--mossed flights of worn steps ascending to
temples that moulder above the clouds;--joyous tumult of festival
nights;--sheeted funeral-trains gliding by in glimmer of
lanterns; murmur of household prayer in fishermen's huts on far
wild coasts;--and visions of desolate little graves marked only
by threads of blue smoke ascending,--graves of pet animals or
birds remembered by simple hearts in the hour of prayer to Amida,
the Lord of Immeasurable Light.

But the odor of which I speak is that of cheap incense only,--the
incense in general use. There are many other kinds of incense;
and the range of quality is amazing. A bundle of common incense-
rods--(they are about as thick as an ordinary pencil-lead, and
somewhat longer)--can be bought for a few sen; while a bundle of
better quality, presenting to inexperienced eyes only some
difference in color, may cost several yen, and be cheap at the
price. Still costlier sorts of incense,--veritable luxuries,--
take the form of lozenges, wafers, pastilles; and a small
envelope of such material may be worth four or five pounds-
sterling. But the commercial and industrial questions relating to
Japanese incense represent the least interesting part of a
remarkably curious subject.