He wears a great basin-shaped white hat, and has a rush
mat over his shoulders to temper the heat of the sun or shed the rain.
Round his neck hangs a string of beads and a bell, which tinkles without
ceasing as he goes. He carries a little bundle of spare sandals and a staff
with an ornament of paper about its end.
His pilgrimage costs him very little. His food is of the simplest, and he
gets a bed at a tea-house for a halfpenny, or he lodges with a villager
who offers him hospitality. To entertain his guest the villager will fetch
his best furniture from the village godown, for in the country one of
these storehouses suffices for a whole hamlet. They are made very large and
strong, with many thick coats of mud and plaster on a wooden frame, and
with a door of iron or of bronze; then, when the fire, which is sure to
come at some time or other, sweeps over the hamlet and leaves it a layer of
smoking ashes around the big godown, there are the village treasures still
unharmed, and ready to adorn the houses which will spring up again as if by
magic.
When bedtime comes, the amado, the wooden shutters, are drawn around the
house and securely fastened; for a Japanese dwelling, so open by day, is
shut up as tightly as a sealed box by night. Now all is quiet save for
the village watchman, whose duty it is to guard against fire and thieves.
He marches up and down, beating two pieces of wood together--clop-clop,
clop-clop--as he walks. This is to give assurance that he is not asleep
himself, but watching over the slumbers of his neighbours, and to let the
thieves know that he is looking out for them.
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