JAPANESE GIRLS PLAYING THEIR FAVORITE GAME, ONIGOTO
SUPPER-TIME
The baby is excused from being present at the festival, but custom demands that no other engagement interfere with the shaving of his head on the third day. In the olden days styles in hair-cutting were as rigidly adhered to as the wearing of a samurai’s sword, but progress must needs tamper even with the down on a baby’s head. Now the fashion has lost much of its quaintness, and is mostly uniform. The sides and back of the head are shaved smooth, while from the crown a fringe is left to sprout like the long petals of a ragged chrysanthemum. The length and seriousness of the hair-cutting ceremony depend upon the self-control of the young gentleman. Regardless of conduct, however, or of the cost to the nervous system, certain fixed rules are enforced, which are virtually the only training the child receives in early years.
DRAWING ON A NEW WHITE SHOJI
After the little stranger, all shaven and shorn, is returned to his private apartments, the elders of the family consult on the grave matter of choosing a name for him. Often the naming of the baby is a simple matter, the father or grandfather speaking before the company the name of some famous man, if the child is a boy, or of some favorite flower, if it is a girl. For girls, Hana, flower, Yuki, snow, Ai, love, are the favorites of parents with a poetical strain. The sterner country-folk choose for their daughters, Matsu, pine, Take, bamboo (the bamboo joints are exact; hence the exactness of virtue), Ume, plum, since the plum bears both cold and snow bravely. For boys, Ichiro, first boy, Toshio, smart, Iwao, strong, and Isamu, brave, are very popular.
Where belief is strong in the power of a name, the family, in holiday dress, often assembles in a large room. Each writes a name upon a slip of paper and lays it reverently before the house shrine. From the group a very young child is chosen and led before this shrine, and the fate of the name is decided by the small hand which reaches out for a slip. Though it is a festive occasion, the selection of a name is made with a seriousness worthy the election of a bishop. Many believe devoutly that this rite influences the baby’s entire future, and therefore the one whose slip is chosen incurs from the moment of choice great responsibility for the child’s welfare.
The next great event in the baby’s existence is on the thirtieth day, when he is taken to the temple to be offered to the god that rules over that particular village or city. Dressed in his best suit of clothes, he is strapped to the back of his mother or nurse, with his body wrapped almost to suffocation, and usually with his head dangling from side to side with no protection for face or eyes. Why all Japanese babies are not blind is one of the secrets of nature’s provision. With tender women for mothers and affectionate servants for nurses, it is strange that the little face is seldom shielded from the direct rays of the sun or the piercing winds of winter. Possibly it is a training for physical endurance that later in life is a part of his education.