*The Japanese lute, otherwise called the Azuma koto, was an instrument five or six feet long and having six strings. History first alludes to it in the reign of Jingo, and such as it was then, such it has remained until to-day. LAW, INDUSTRY, LOYALTY Five facts are already deducible from the annals of this epoch: the first, that there was no written law, unless the prohibitions in the Rituals may be so regarded; the second, that there was no form of judicial trial, unless ordeal or torture may be so regarded; the third, that the death penalty might be inflicted on purely ex-parte evidence; the fourth, that a man's whole family had to suffer the penalty of his crimes, and the fifth, that already in those remote times the code of splendid loyalty which has distinguished the Japanese race through all ages had begun to find disciples. An incident of Ojin's reign illustrates all these things. Takenouchi, the sukune (noble) who had served Ojin's mother so ably, and who had saved Ojin's life in the latter's childhood, was despatched to Tsukushi (Kyushu) on State business. During his absence his younger brother accused him of designs upon the Emperor. At once, without further inquiry, Ojin sent men to kill the illustrious minister. But Maneko, suzerain (atae) of Iki, who bore a strong resemblance to Takenouchi, personified him, and committing suicide, deceived the soldiers who would have taken the sukune's life, so that the latter was enabled to return to Yamato. Arriving at Court, he protested his innocence and the ordeal of boiling water was employed. It took place on the bank of the Shiki River. Takenouchi proving victorious; his brother with all his family were condemned to become tomo-be of the suzerain of Kii. THE GRACE OF LIFE Side by side with these primitive conditions stands a romantic story of Ojin's self-denial in ceding to his son, Osazaki, a beautiful girl whom the sovereign has destined to be his own consort. Discovering that the prince loved her, Ojin invited him to a banquet in the palace, and, summoning the girl, made known by the aid of poetry his intention of surrendering her to his son, who, in turn, expressed his gratitude in verse. It is true that the character of this act of renunciation is marred when we observe that Ojin was eighty years old at the time; nevertheless the graces of life were evidently not wanting in old-time Japan, nor did her historians deem them unworthy of prominent place in their pages. If at one moment they tell us of slanders and cruelty, at another they describe how a favourite consort of Ojin, gazing with him at a fair landscape from a high tower, was moved to tears by the memory of her parents whom she had not seen for years, and how the Emperor, sympathizing with her filial affection, made provision for her return home and took leave of her in verse: