side that we loved so in our youth; nor yet the sort, blue-eyed and prim, in pale silk frock and bronze shoes which we kept in a cupboard, pretending we loved it so much that we wished to keep it from harm; nor are they even of the sort we buy our own little daughters in Yokohama, with a stiff bowl-shaped fringe of black hair, and dainty little kimono and obi of gaudy silk. No, these are not common dolls—even the little Marquise from Paris is hardly exalted enough in rank to appear with the dolls of a Japanese girl on her National Birthday. These are Emperors, and eminent ancient Royalties, magnificently clothed princesses in the ceremonial costumes of old days. Jimmo Tenno, the first real Emperor, may be there, and Jingo, the Empress who was so great that she is put on the shelf with men monarchs, and not in the lesser place that is devoted to her own sex. Famous generals you may see: Hideyoshi, builder of palaces and of a nation; court officials in flowing robes; princesses with long loose hair; samurai, with two swords; and, last of all, obsequious servants to wait on the whole company. Then there may be the five court musicians with their quaint, perfectly made instruments; and even kagos for carrying common folk, horses for samurai, and lacquer carts, drawn by bullocks, for Royalty to ride in.
Such a court of dolls I was shown in Kyoto
