In the Tōkyō of 1891 butchers and milkmen were very little in evidence, as the demand for their wares came mainly from the few foreigners and foreign restaurants in the city. In 1901 a walk of half a mile or so in the neighborhood of Kojimachi, one of the principal business streets in a purely Japanese section of the city, shows five meat shops; and milkmen, in westernized shirts and knickerbockers, with golf-stockings and straw sandals, draw their gay-colored carts everywhere through the city, and call at a large proportion of the houses. Condensed milk, too, is to be found on the shelves of every provision store, together with canned and dried meats, and the restaurants where foreign food is served are distributed throughout the entire city, and do a thriving business on Japanese patronage. The less extravagant country people declare that Tōkyō is "eating itself up," but so far no terrible increase of indebtedness seems to follow the change in the standard of living. It is interesting to note that the scalp troubles referred to on page 11 seem to have greatly lessened in the last ten years, whether because of the change in the food or for other reasons, I cannot determine.
[ Page 24.]
Twice, after the miya mairi of her babyhood, does our little maid repair to the temple to seek the blessing of her patron god upon a step forward in her short life: once, when at the age of three, the hair on her small head, which until then has been shaved in fancy patterns, is allowed to begin its growth toward the coiffure of womanhood; and once, when she has attained her seventh year, and exchanges the soft, narrow sash of infancy for the stiff, wide obi which is the pride of every well-dressed Japanese woman. Her little brother, too, though now no longer destined to wear the hammer-shaped queue of the old-time Japanese warrior, and whose fuzzy black head is now usually left unshaven in his babyhood, still goes to the temple at the age of three to give thanks, and when he comes to be five years old, the little boy again goes up to the temple, this time wearing for the first time the manly hakama, or kilt-pleated trousers, and makes offerings to the god who has protected him thus far.
The day set for these ceremonies is the 15th of November, and there is no prettier sight in all Japan than a popular temple on that day. All the streets that converge on the shrine are crowded with gayly dressed children hurrying along to make their offerings, accompanied by parents brimming with pride and pleasure.
"Small feet are pattering, wooden shoes clattering,
Little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering:"
three-year-old tots of both sexes trudging sturdily along on their clogs: square little red-cheeked boys, their black eyes shining with pride in their rustling new silk hakama, feeling that they are big boys and no longer to be confused with the babies that they were yesterday: here, too, are the graceful seven-year-old maidens, their many-colored garments and their gorgeous new obi setting off to advantage their shining black hair and sparkling eyes. The children are so many, so happy, and so impressed with the fun that it is to be older than they were, that the grown folks who accompany them seem like shadows; the only real thing is the children.
Within the temple precincts all the candy-sellers and toy-merchants who can find standing-room for a stall are doing a brisk trade. Flags are flying, drums are beating, a kagura dance is going on in the pavilion, about which stands a crowd of youngsters twittering like sparrows, and the steps that lead to the temple itself are as thronged as Jacob's ladder with little ones ascending and descending. Within the shrine the white-robed priests are hard at work from morning to night. A little company forms in the vestibule, goes to the priest in the first room, where they bow and make their offerings, and wait until there is space for them in the inner sanctuary. From within comes the sound of a droning chant, which ends at last, and then a party that has finished its worship issues forth, and those who have been waiting without go in; and when the few minutes of worship are over, and the amulet that rewards the due observance of the day has been received, there are the dances to be seen, and the o miyagé to be purchased, and at last the happy party returns, feeling that one more milestone on the journey of life has been passed propitiously.
[ Page 30.]
The shirōzaké (white saké) used for this occasion is a curious drink, thick and white, made from pounded rice, and brewed especially for this feast. Some antiquarians believe that it is simply the earliest form of saké, the national beverage, which has been preserved in this ancient observance as the fly is preserved in amber.