Ditto. Seven paper-strings (koyori) are bundled together and held by the centre, while four of them are fastened at one end in pairs; the remaining three are also fastened, two with one string. Of the last two strings, one represents the girl’s lover, and is to be marked as such. When all these strings are pulled, sometimes none of them get tangled, but now and then one of the three strings tied together may entangle itself with the others in a curious fashion. Taking this as the “boundary� the length of the remaining two strings should be compared, presuming the one that is marked to be the man and the other to be the woman. If the male string is longer it means that the man’s love is deeper, and vice versa. When the paper strings have entangled themselves in an auspicious manner, such strings should be fastened to the end of the woman’s koshi-maki (kind of waist-cloth) and they will prove to be an irresistible charm for attracting men. When the person longed for finally arrives, this koyori must be secretly removed and thrown away so as not to be detected by anyone. Should this once be forgotten, and the woman go to bed with her lover while the strings are still attached to her waistcloth, the charm will lose its efficacy in future.
Ditto. The woman must concentrate her mind and think of the abode of her lover (if the street, number, etc. is not clearly known a hypothesis will suffice), the route to be taken in going there, and the distance. She must then imagine herself departing from her own house, and on her way to that of the lover, counting her steps as she goes. Then she will shortly suppose that she has reached her destination, that she has met with the man she was seeking, and that she is urging him to visit her in the evening without fail. After obtaining his consent she must mentally commence her return journey, going through the same process as she did on her outward journey. Of course all this labour of love is mentally performed, so that it may be done even in the presence of another guest without arousing the slightest suspicion in the minds of outsiders. This practice of telepathy is said to be startlingly effective in its results.
Ditto. Take a sheet of hanshi paper and from it cut out seven human figures, all joined together. Then fill in the eyes, noses, and mouths, but do not complete these in each figure: let some be without a nose or mouth, or minus one eye, etc. On the abdomen of the central figure should be written three times the first letter of the man’s name, and on the remaining six figures it should be written five times. The central letter on the central figure should be pierced with a needle in an upward direction, and all the figures should then be solemnly promised that if the desired party turns up, their organs shall be completed and that they shall be thrown into a stream and allowed to float away. The figures should then be pasted in a place where they will not be detected. In the event of the person whose presence is desired actually appearing, the organs of the figures should be completed, and then the paper men should be thrown either into the moat or the W.C.
Ditto. In the small hours of the morning, enter a room which faces the street and which is not usually occupied by anybody. Shut up the paper shutters (sh�ji) and place your sandals in the room with the bottoms upwards. Then pass through the room out into the verandah, place your hands in the bosom of your dress and shutting your eyes repeat an old well-known poem three times in succession. If you then listen very carefully you will hear a human voice which, speaking in an undertone, will tell you whether “he� will come or not. This is a very doubtful charm!
Ditto. Write on a sheet of hanshi paper the well-known poem:— “Konu hito wo Matsuo no ura no yū-nagi ni yakuya moshiwo no mi wo kogashi-tsutsu� [this has been translated by Mr. F.V. Dickins (with a slight verbal alteration) as follows:—
On Matsuo’s shore, our meeting place,
At dusky hour of night, I wait
My longed-for loved one to embrace;
Ah, why linger’st thou so late!
My ardent passion, than the fire