The Sintoo faith and Buddhism are the prevalent religions of the
Japanese. The teaching of the other sects is modelled more or less on
the tenets inculcated by these two. Some, however, hold a philosophic
doctrine, which recognises a Supreme Being but denies a future state,
holding that happiness is only to be insured by a virtuous life.

Sintooism may be regarded as the national religion of the country. It
inculcates a high moral standard; and its chief personage is the
Mikado, or spiritual emperor, who is considered to be a mediator
between his subjects and the inhabitants of the other world.

Every Sintoo has the image of a patron 'kami,' or 'saint,' enshrined
in his house, to which he lays open his necessities and confesses his
shortcomings, and by whose intercession with the Supreme Being he
trusts at his death to be translated to the regions of the 'kamis,' as
they designate their heaven.

The wicked are supposed to be consigned to the abodes of the
disembodied spirits, who are punished according to the nature of their
crimes. For instance, saki merchants who have sold bad spirit are
believed to be confined in stagnant pools; and murderers are supposed
to haunt the graves of their victims, until the prayers of their
relatives release them. Purity of life and body is the leading feature
of the Sintoo faith. As an emblem of the natural purity of the soul,
mirrors are hung up in the temples; and the more ignorant people (who
in Japan, like every other country, are most influenced by
superstitions) believe, as they look into the mirror, that the Supreme
Being sees their past lives as easily as they do their own faces. The
value attached to indulgences and charms is very great, and the sale
of them contributes largely to the revenues of the Mikado. Charms are
eagerly purchased by the lower orders, who carry them about their
persons, and never let anybody touch them except themselves.

At a tea-house at Kamakura, one of these charms was accidentally
dropped by a lively little 'moosmie,' or 'girl,' who was waiting on a
party of foreigners. One of them picked it up, and was on the point of
opening the small box in which it is placed for safety when she
discovered the loss, and made a desperate rush for its recovery. On
finding the importance attached to it, the 'friske,' as she called it,
was handed round the group as she eagerly darted after it; and on one
of the party pretending to light a cigar with it she burst