high jinks, the new priest took up a three-legged iron pot close by and playfully put it on his head. As the pot fitted him tightly, he, flattening his nose, pulled it even below his chin and began to dance. His blind dancing was so waggish that they all burst out laughing. When the merriment was over after a while, the new priest tried to pull off the pot, but in vain! It caught his ears and nose and would not come off.
"Hey, take it off!" he cried.
His voice was muffled and resounded in the pot so that the other priests could not hear exactly what he said.
They became anxious and pulled the pot by the legs as hard as they could. But the pot still would not come off. The priest's neck, having been rubbed by the edge of the pot, became bruised.
"Oh! I am choked. Take it off. Quick!" he cried again.
"Say, I have a good idea. Let's break the pot," said one of the group. With that, they struck the pot hard with a hammer, but the pot-bearer could not stand their shower of blows.
Whereupon they took him to a physician in town. The doctor was surprised to see such a strange patient. He said he was very sorry he did not know how to treat the patient, because he had no experience in handling such an unusual case. The priests were helpless so they took the pot-headed priest back to the temple and let him lie in bed.
His old mother, friends, and relatives were immediately sent for. They came and gathered at his bedside. His mother wept and grieved but the pot-wearing priest could not hear her tearful voice.
At last some one suggested, "Let's pull it off by force, even though his ears and nose might be torn off. That is the only way left for us. I don't think it will cost his life."
After that, they put in straw around his head so the pot might come off easily. Grabbing its legs, they pulled the pot so hard it seemed his head might be torn off at any moment. After some struggle, the pot finally came off, but the priest's nose and ears were injured.
We are told that, although he was cured of this peculiar sickness, he afterward suffered from these injuries and had to lie in bed for a long time.
6. The demons spittle
A LONG TIME ago there was in Kyoto a young, very pious man. He often visited Rokkaku-do (Hexagonal Shrine) to offer his devout prayer to Kannon-sama (Goddess of Mercy) enshrined there.
Once he called on a friend on New Year's Eve. When he left this friend's house, it was already dark. On his way home, as he was crossing Modoribashi (Returning Bridge), he saw many people approaching, carrying blazing torches. He thought it was a lord and his attendants, so he got out of their way by hiding himself under the bridge. Soon they were on the bridge. The man wondered who the lord could be. He put his head out from under the bridge and looked up. And lo! They were not human beings. They were all oni (demons) with a pair of horns on each head. Some of them were single-eyed, while others had several hands each, and still others were one-legged. He was horrified at this sight.
"Hey, there's a human being down there," one of the oni suddenly cried. "Let's catch him," said another. In a moment, the man was a prisoner. He feared they would eat him and resigned himself to their next action. But there was no indication of any cruelty. Presently one of them said the man was not fit to eat and thrust him away. Then they spat in his face and went off. The man now felt relieved to have his life spared. He went home in a hurry. When he reached his house, his family would not speak to him, although they looked directly at him.
"Why do you keep such silence?" he asked. But they ignored him. The man wondered what was the matter with them. After a while, there suddenly flashed into his mind the idea that the oni's spittle must have made his figure invisible. He could see his family and hear what they said, but they seemed to be unable to see or hear him. Now he was at a loss.
The next day was New Year's Day. His family, however, were
"Hey, take it off!" he cried.
His voice was muffled and resounded in the pot so that the other priests could not hear exactly what he said.
They became anxious and pulled the pot by the legs as hard as they could. But the pot still would not come off. The priest's neck, having been rubbed by the edge of the pot, became bruised.
"Oh! I am choked. Take it off. Quick!" he cried again.
"Say, I have a good idea. Let's break the pot," said one of the group. With that, they struck the pot hard with a hammer, but the pot-bearer could not stand their shower of blows.
Whereupon they took him to a physician in town. The doctor was surprised to see such a strange patient. He said he was very sorry he did not know how to treat the patient, because he had no experience in handling such an unusual case. The priests were helpless so they took the pot-headed priest back to the temple and let him lie in bed.
His old mother, friends, and relatives were immediately sent for. They came and gathered at his bedside. His mother wept and grieved but the pot-wearing priest could not hear her tearful voice.
At last some one suggested, "Let's pull it off by force, even though his ears and nose might be torn off. That is the only way left for us. I don't think it will cost his life."
After that, they put in straw around his head so the pot might come off easily. Grabbing its legs, they pulled the pot so hard it seemed his head might be torn off at any moment. After some struggle, the pot finally came off, but the priest's nose and ears were injured.
We are told that, although he was cured of this peculiar sickness, he afterward suffered from these injuries and had to lie in bed for a long time.
6. The demons spittle
A LONG TIME ago there was in Kyoto a young, very pious man. He often visited Rokkaku-do (Hexagonal Shrine) to offer his devout prayer to Kannon-sama (Goddess of Mercy) enshrined there.
Once he called on a friend on New Year's Eve. When he left this friend's house, it was already dark. On his way home, as he was crossing Modoribashi (Returning Bridge), he saw many people approaching, carrying blazing torches. He thought it was a lord and his attendants, so he got out of their way by hiding himself under the bridge. Soon they were on the bridge. The man wondered who the lord could be. He put his head out from under the bridge and looked up. And lo! They were not human beings. They were all oni (demons) with a pair of horns on each head. Some of them were single-eyed, while others had several hands each, and still others were one-legged. He was horrified at this sight.
"Hey, there's a human being down there," one of the oni suddenly cried. "Let's catch him," said another. In a moment, the man was a prisoner. He feared they would eat him and resigned himself to their next action. But there was no indication of any cruelty. Presently one of them said the man was not fit to eat and thrust him away. Then they spat in his face and went off. The man now felt relieved to have his life spared. He went home in a hurry. When he reached his house, his family would not speak to him, although they looked directly at him.
"Why do you keep such silence?" he asked. But they ignored him. The man wondered what was the matter with them. After a while, there suddenly flashed into his mind the idea that the oni's spittle must have made his figure invisible. He could see his family and hear what they said, but they seemed to be unable to see or hear him. Now he was at a loss.
The next day was New Year's Day. His family, however, were