In one part of the temple, the commodore, from the initials “M. C. P.” on some boxes there seen, seemed to have had a room set apart. The altar, in the place of worship was very plain, and had incense burning on it. Its only ornaments consisted of bronze castings representing their sacred crane on the back of a tortoise, and a small gilded elephant. There, of course, was the invariable accompaniment of Sintoo worship—a small mirror—an emblem of the soul’s perfect purity; or, according to some, as plainly as the votary sees his own features in that mirror, so plainly do the mediatory spirits to whom he prays, see his spiritual and temporal wants. Such a style of worship would scarcely answer for the belles of our land. As the devotee enters one of these temples he first drops a few “cash” (about the fifteenth of a cent) into a carefully-secured box at the door, then by shaking a lot of sleigh-looking bells hanging from a beam, attracts to his prayers the attention of his mediatory spirits, who only number some three thousand—these are the _kami_, confreres of the spiritual emperor or mikado, and analogous to the saints of the catholics. The Sintoo mythology also comprehends a god of war. On entering the grounds where one of these temples were located, we passed through a military barrack, where were a number of small stallions tethered from either cheek, wrong end foremost in their stalls, who grew quite indignant in their cavortings at our presence. On our approach they turned out their guard—three or four stupid-looking soldiers, with tin-basin looking hats, and the calves of their legs swathed in blue cotton cloth, upholding the insignia of rank of their chief, which were cruciform lances in coverings of shark-skin. In the building, we saw on the walls, offerings of swords and bows, from those who had deemed themselves miraculously preserved in battle.