Twice, after the _miya mairi_ of her babyhood, does our little maid repair to the temple to seek the blessing of her patron god upon a step forward in her short life: once, when at the age of three, the hair on her small head, which until then has been shaved in fancy patterns, is allowed to begin its growth toward the coiffure of womanhood; and once, when she has attained her seventh year, and exchanges the soft, narrow sash of infancy for the stiff, wide _obi_ which is the pride of every well-dressed Japanese woman. Her little brother, too, though now no longer destined to wear the hammer-shaped queue of the old-time Japanese warrior, and whose fuzzy black head is now usually left unshaven in his babyhood, still goes to the temple at the age of three to give thanks, and when he comes to be five years old, the little boy again goes up to the temple, this time wearing for the first time the manly _hakama_, or kilt-pleated trousers, and makes offerings to the god who has protected him thus far. The day set for these ceremonies is the 15th of November, and there is no prettier sight in all Japan than a popular temple on that day. All the streets that converge on the shrine are crowded with gayly dressed children hurrying along to make their offerings, accompanied by parents brimming with pride and pleasure. "Small feet are pattering, wooden shoes clattering, Little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering:" three-year-old tots of both sexes trudging sturdily along on their clogs: square little red-cheeked boys, their black eyes shining with pride in their rustling new silk _hakama_, feeling that they are big boys and no longer to be confused with the babies that they were yesterday: here, too, are the graceful seven-year-old maidens, their many-colored garments and their gorgeous new _obi_ setting off to advantage their shining black hair and sparkling eyes. The children are so many, so happy, and so impressed with the fun that it is to be older than they were, that the grown folks who accompany them seem like shadows; the only real thing is the children.