cause so many pieces have been torn off for people to eat.”
“To eat!” exclaimed both children, horrified
I couldn’t help smiling as I explained that many people used to believe that because the saihai had been held in the hand of Ieyasu, the paper strips possessed the magic power of healing. I have heard my mother say that sick people often came from long distances just to beg for a bit of the paper to roll into a pellet and swallow as a cure. Father always laughed, but he told Mother to give the paper, saying that it was less harmful than most medicine, and that belief alone frequently cures.
We were starting to go downstairs when I stopped beside a large whitewood box having the over-lapping lid and the curved feet of a temple book chest. It stood on a platform raised a little above the floor. I had seen this box in my childhood, but never except on airing-days, and always it had the sacred Shinto rope around it. With some hesitation I called Sister to come back.
“I am very bold,” I said, “but would you mind if I ask you to open the kiri-wood box? Our feelings have changed since the old days, and I would so like for the children——”
“Etsu-bo, you ask to gaze upon sacred things——” Sister began hastily; then, stopping abruptly, she shrugged her shoulders. “After all, women’s eyes have already looked upon it,” she added a little bitterly; “the new order of things has done much to take the spirit of reverence from us all.”
Then we, she at one end and I at the other, lifted off the lid just as Jiya and Yoshita in their ceremonial dresses used to do, long ago. I felt a little awestruck as we leaned over and looked within. Some of the sacred relics had been removed. The coat and sword of Ieyasu were in charge of another branch of the family, and Brother had taken the
