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for having honoured him with their company, leaves again and returns immediately with two bronze or earthenware vessels, one containing charcoal, the other finely sifted white ashes. After having laid and lit the fire in the Kotatsu, i.e., a square fireplace, sunk in the centre of the room, he burns incense and puts on the kettle. The first guest, apologising to his neighbours, begs leave to examine the censer, "Kô-ro," and its paten, which he afterwards hands round. The host again retires and returns to ask if he may now offer some refreshments. The principal guest replies in the name of the company, that they will comply with their host's arrangements. The latter, after precisely ten minutes, during which the guests smoke, returns with tea-trays, Bon," or low stands (about one foot in height) of lackered wood, "Dai," which he places before each guest, and serves alternately soup and fish, each time cooked in a different manner. This is in accordance with the Japanese style of dinner, in which soup, fish, and sweet or savoury omelets, each time however differently prepared, alternate as often as the grandness of the occasion demands. Instead of bread, boiled rice, "Meshi," is served by a female attendant, who, kneeling before a lackered pail containing the rice, Meshibitsu," fills the rice-bowls with a ladle, replenishing them from time to time as required. Weak tea, and at the end of the repast, warmed rice-beer, "Sake," are the beverage. The fare of the Châ-no-yu differs from that of other dinner-parties only in the omission of the omelets and the rice.

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After the first half of the repast is over, the host asks permission to retire, and returning immediately, he places a flask of rice-beer and a drinking cup for each, before the principal guest, who, keeping his own, hands the others to his neighbour who passes them on until every one is provided. The first guest then drinks the health of the host, the others follow his lead. The collation over, the chopsticks, "Hashi," are wiped with a paper napkin, and confectionery, "Châno-ko," is handed round, of which every one partakes. After having admired again the wall-pictures, all retire for a short time into the garden, while the host changes the flowers and pictures, prepares the tea-service and dons the court dress," Kami-shimo," for the subsequent ceremonious Châ-no-yu.

Responding to the call of the gong, the guests return in the same order and with the same formalities as on their first arrival, wash their hands, duly admire the new arrangements in general and every single

object in particular, the first guest leading the remarks. The first tea now offered is called Koi-châ, "strong" or "dark tea," which the host prepares by pouring water, which has previously cooled in a second teapot to 200° F., over the leaves. This tea is served in a special old-fashioned cup of irregular shape, four inches in diameter, and of like depth, which is presented to the principal guest who passes it to the others. Each guest is provided with a fine white paper napkin, with which he holds the cup and wipes its rim before handing it to his neighbour, after having taken three or four sips, reminding one of the English loving-cup. Unrelenting etiquette requires, that the first guest after having partaken of the tea, should make a series of questions about the name and the quality of the tea, its source, &c., to which the host, who drinks last, replies with many apologies for the deficiency of the beverage, a formality which may never be omitted. The other guests this time do not follow the example of the first, but listen silently. Then the empty cup, the value of which is enhanced by its age and its history, passes round for general admiration and finally returns to the host, who now re-arranges the hearth and burns fresh incense.

Now pipes are lighted, small rice-cakes, "Kashi," and Usu-châ, “weak tea," which is prepared in the usual manner, offered, of which the guests partake according to their liking. The conversation becomes now more general and less formal.

After precisely half an hour, the principal guest gives the sign for rising, and the company take leave one after the other, with the most exaggerated expressions of thanks for the entertainment. The host likewise in no less high-flown words expresses his thanks for the great honour which they had conferred upon him, apologising repeatedly for all the innumerable defects and the meanness of the entertainment, and everybody retires after three mutual prostrations in the same order as they arrived, in their innermost heart, I should believe, very glad to have once again passed through the ordeal of a Châ-no-yu.

Several modifications of Kiu-shin's ceremonial had been attempted in the course of time, but none had even a temporary success, except those introduced by Sennô Rikiu and his disciples, which met with partial favour. Sennô, originally a merchant at the sea-port of Sakai, in the province of Idzumi, about nine miles south of Ôsaka, had been nominated Sô-shô for his intimate acquaintance with the ceremonial of the Châ-no-yu, by

General Ota Nobunaga, who was in power during the interregnum between the second and the third Minamoto dynasties (15731581). He was confirmed in this honorary function by the celebrated General Taiko Sama (1591-1599). Once ordered by the latter to prepare tea according to Kiu-shin's rules, he in many points deviated from these. When asked by Taiko Sama the reason for permitting himself such alterations, he stated that the prescribed ceremonial was too tedious and elaborate, and contradictory to his personal theory of the proprieties of a perfect Châ-no-yu, which demanded perfect freedom from every care and anxiety, peace of mind, purity of thought, and respectful reverence. These alterations found great favour with Taiko Sama, who complimented Sennô on his innovations, and bade him carry out and perfect his new style of the Châ-no-yu.

Sennô also substituted delicate rush mats and unhewn pillars with the bark left on, for the hitherto usual ceiling of wooden laths and pillars of planed wood of the tea-room, and he reduced its area to three-fourths of its former dimensions (about six square feet). I saw such a tea-house in the park of the aforementioned Kin-kaku-ji. It is on a hillock commanding an extensive view of the N.W. mountain range. It was erected, if my memory does not fail, by Taiko Sama.

He also first introduced the common larger tea-cup, which I mentioned in my description of the Châ-no-yu ceremonial. According to Kiu-shin's rules, the tea had been served in small cups for each guest separately, and the tea-service was arranged before Sennô's time on trays placed on the floor-mat instead of on a stand. The host being obliged, as we have seen, to prepare and fetch everything required and to attend personally on his guests, Sennô added for his convenience a small pantry to the tea-room. Until this time the guests took their swords into the room, which he objected to as being opposed to the peaceful and friendly character of the meeting. He therefore had hooks placed in the hall to suspend the arms before entering, for which afterwards sword-racks were substituted, which remained the custom until the abolition of the right of carrying swords in 1876. Many of these sword-racks may still be seen in gentlemen's houses.

His garden likewise became a model to others. It was laid out in such a manner that seen from the tea-room it represented a landscape in miniature. Cryptomerias and other kinds of pines were alternately planted with groups of bamboo and ornamental shrubs, and fish-ponds with clear water, tiny

waterfalls, meandering rivers with rustic bridges, smooth stepping-stones, and quaintly shaped moss-clad rocks, were all so cunningly arranged as to deceive the eye and to produce the illusion of an extensive perspective, although occupying a small limited space. Gardens laid out in this fashion and tea-houses as introduced by Sennô may be frequently met with in the grounds of noblemen and wealthy citizens, especially at Kiyôto. Also the gardens of many public tea-houses are laid out in a similar manner. One of the most famous tea-houses of this kind is in the village of Yamashina, near Kiyôto, on the road to Ötsu (now called Shiga), the optical illusion of which could not be surpassed. Thus the influence of Senno's taste rules the art of gardening still in the present day.

Other innovations of the Châ-no-yu had only an ephemeral existence. Furuta Oribeno Shô, a disciple of Sennô, reverted to the most ancient ceremonial. His rules, known by the name of the Oribe-riu, "Style of Oribe," were too minutely formal to meet with many supporters. He was in high favour with Hide Tada, the second Shô-gun of the third dynasty (1605-1622), who raised him. to the rank of a Dai-miyô, i.e., feudal prince.

Oribe-no Sho's principal disciple, Kobori Totomi-no Kami, "Kobori, Lord of Totomi," (which is a province on the sea-board of the Pacific), introduced a new ceremonial of æsthetic taste. He decorated the tea-room with most costly ornaments, and fitted it with all kinds of works of art. But he failed in finding many imitators. The wonted simplicity of arrangements, which in no way interfered with the essential repose of mind, prevailed over this novelty. After his death, his style fell into disuse and has, as I am told, only occasionally been resuscitated by stray æsthetes. He was a contemporary of the third Tokugawa Shô-gun Iye Mitsu (1623-1650), who, in order to test the loyalty of the Dai-mijô, issued command that the same reverence should be shown to the officers of his household when returning with tea from Uji on the Tô-kai-dô, "the eastern searoad," i.e., the great highway between Yedo (To-kiyo) and Kiyôto, as to his proper person when travelling. By this order the fame of the already celebrated tea of Uji spread over the whole country.

For the last two centuries and a half no more innovations have taken place in the ceremonial of the Châ-no-yu, which may probably soon be numbered with many other vanishing customs of old Japan.

F. A. JUNKER VON LANGEGG.

HERE shall it be?" I asked my companion, after watching him a while poring over his Baedeker. We were sitting on the deck of the Domino, bound from Hull to Bergen, trying to expel the dismal impression of the North Sea, sullen-looking and threatening violence, by a vivid forecast of the pleasures of the coming tour in "old Norway." "I decide for the Jotunheim," answered my comrade, whose incognito we may conveniently preserve by the help of the mathematical symbol X. He was an experienced traveller in Norway, and I being wholly inexperienced, gladly gave over the arrangement of the tour into his hands.

"Where is the Jotunheim?" I asked.

"It is a small mountainous region lying to the east and a little to the north of that long fjord there," pointing to the Sognefjord on the map. He went on to enlarge on its attractions. "As its name, 'the home of the giants,' suggests, it is the Switzerland of Norway, with the enormous advantage over the original that it has been neglected by Englishmen. It has the merit of having been discovered by the Norwegians themselves, and of being still and almost exclusively their playground. There we shall be far away from the fjords, the Romsdal, and the other haunts of the English and American tourist." I had previously discovered that X. was just now touched by that mild form of misanthropy which is apt to follow an exhausting London season, and I was struck with the fact that even in his present mood his partiality for the Norwegians was such as to make him seemingly No. 30

indifferent to the possibility of being jostled by a crowd of them in their favourite mountain resort. But not minding the contingency myself I at once acquiesced. So it was settled that we should do in Norway as the Norwegians, who seem to reverse the English practice, and make their summer flitting away from the coast.

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At Bergen my imagination was greatly excited by watching X. make elaborate preparations for our excursion by purchases of tinned meats, &c. (Hermatisk), soap, and other ordiconcomitants of civilised life. We spent just three days in reaching the Jotunheim, taking .train to Vossevangen, going thence by cariole to Gutvangen, on the Sognefjord, and then using the steamer to Aardal. There was much in the scenery of the valleys through which we passed under an almost cloudless sky to compensate us for the discomforts of the North Sea. The bright green slopes, where peasant households were busily stretching the fragrant grass on hurdles; the cool pine woods, where many a gleaming white stem lay ready to be launched into the turbulent stream below; the stream itself filling the vale with a lullaby hum, and made more lively here and there by a sprightly little saw-mill; the gaily-tinted toy-like wooden houses and churches; all guarded by bare mountaintops, now rugged and black, and now smooth and of a silvery-grey: this seemed to invite to delay and repose. And then the trim and almost elegant Norwegian inn, with its white windows, its old-fashioned fruit garden, where an abundance of glowing red currants allured the eye, and a calm pellucid lake just below, rightly placed for the morning plunge -it seemed nothing less than a mad ingratitude to hurry past so seductive a spot. So CC 2