CHAPTER XIII

Cruise on a French Man-of-War—Tongan Isles—Samoa—Taheiti—California—Japan.

The arrival of British or other men-of-war always brought some little stir, and some accession to our somewhat limited society, as of course the officers called at Government House, where Sir Arthur and Lady Gordon showed them all possible hospitality.

In August 1877 a French man-of-war, _Le Seignelay_, came into harbour on a very peaceful errand. She had been appointed to take Monseigneur Elloi, the Roman Catholic Bishop of Samoa on _le tour de la mission_, _i.e._ to visit all the mission-stations in his diocese. He had already visited Easter Isle and some other very interesting places, but had still to visit the Samoan (or Navigators), the Tongan (or Friendly Isles), and the Tahitian (or Society) group.

Two kinder or more courtly gentlemen than the bishop and the captain, Commandant Aube, could not be found, and indeed all the officers were gentlemen of the best type. We all became great friends, and they were keenly interested in my portfolios of Australia, New Zealand, and many Fijian Isles which they could not visit. But we could scarcely believe they were all in earnest when one day Commandant Aube called and formally invited me to go with the _Seignelay_ to Tonga, Samoa, and Tahiti.

The invitation had to be reiterated and backed by that of all our friends on board ere Sir Arthur could believe that it was really quite genuine, but when Baron Anatole von Hügel, one of our own party, went on board and saw the delightful cabin assigned to me through the unselfish kindness of M. de Gironde, and brought back fresh messages of welcome, Lady Gordon so thoroughly entered into my wish not to throw away so unique a chance of visiting isles which by no other possibility could I ever hope to see, that it was decided that I might accept the kind captain’s generous offer of hospitality, at least so far as Samoa, where I had an invitation to visit the wife of the consul, and whence I should doubtless find some means of returning to Fiji.

So on 5TH SEPTEMBER Lady Gordon, Captain Knollys, and dear little Jack in his sailor’s dress, escorted me on board _Le Seignelay_, which became to me the very kindest home till 7TH OCTOBER, when we reached Tahiti.

From the 7th to the 15th September we were in the beautiful Tongan group, where every hour was full of interest; and from 18th September to 2nd October we were in the still more lovely Samoan Isles, among mountains, rivers, orange-groves, palms, splendid thickets of bananas, and most attractive people. But there, alas! civil war, fostered by evil white men, was causing bloodshed and misery; every man’s hand against his neighbour.

It soon became evident that to return thence to Fiji would be absolutely impossible, even had I cared to risk travelling in such company as sailed in those trading-vessels. I therefore gratefully accepted the cordially renewed invitation to proceed on board _Le Seignelay_ to Tahiti, where I was first most cordially welcomed by Mr. and Mrs. Green at the London Mission, and afterwards by Mrs. Brander, alias “Titaua,” the highest chief next to King Pomare, who was married to her sister Marau.

All through our voyage my companions had been telling me of this delightful _demi-blanche_, Madame Brandère. So I looked forward with much interest to making her acquaintance, and when taken by Mr. Green to do so, I was turning over in my mind what insular topics we could find in common, when to my amazement she asked whether I had lately been in Morayshire? and whether I had recently seen Lady Dunbar Brander?

Then it suddenly flashed upon my memory that a connection of the Branders of Pitgaveny had many years before left the north to carve his own fortune in the South Seas, and this was how he had done it. He had invested his capital in trading-ships, which proved highly remunerative, and had enormously enlarged his connection by marrying this good and beautiful woman, who owned great estates in various parts of the group, and ruled her people wisely and well, but with the absolute power of a feudal chief. She was a woman of rare ability, who after her husband’s death carried on all the command of her fleet of trading-ships, personally ordering every detail, and consulted on many business matters by the French civil and naval authorities.

Of course their seizure of the isles had been a terrible trial to her, as to all her people, but she had wisely resolved to make the best of the unavoidable evil. She was an earnestly religious woman, and grieved bitterly over the very immoral influence of the usurpers, which she and the hitherto loved and revered missionaries were powerless to counteract. She also suffered seriously in business matters from the adverse influence of her own trading German sons-in-law, and from the new French law, which compelled equal division of property among all her children.

Feeling the need of a strong man with authority to take her part, she married her husband’s manager, George Darsie, and some years later actually made up her mind to remove her younger children from the dangerous influences to which they were exposed. Such was the strength of her mother-love, that she forsook her lovely homes in Tahiti and Moorea, and brought her family to settle at bleak Anstruther, in Fife, which had been Mr. Darsie’s early home. A more absolute contrast in every respect to her own poetic isles could not be conceived, but she felt that it was worth the sacrifice. At Anstruther she died, and her daughter, Paloma, “the dove,” who could not bear ever to leave the spot where that dear mother was buried, happily found her own true love in the manse close by, and as wife of the young parish minister, lived on for some years close to her half-brothers and sisters.

Of my ideal six months in Tahiti and Moorea, as well as the enchanting weeks in the Tongan and Samoan groups, up to that wonderful Easter morning when I passed through “the golden gates” and landed in California, I have written a very full account in my _Lady’s Cruise in a French Man-of-War_, published by Blackwood.

In California I found such attractive sketching-ground that six months slipped away like so many weeks, chiefly in the grand Sierra Nevada. I lived most of the time in the Yo Semite valley, at the very foot of the stupendous falls (2630 feet in height), which give their name to the wonderful valley; thence riding in every direction to paint the many other falls, and view the sierras from various mountain summits.

I arrived in the valley when the snows had just melted sufficiently to make access possible, and when leafless trees enabled me to secure accurate drawings of crags which soon were veiled by delicate green foliage; I watched the thickets of bare sticks develop into masses of most fragrant small yellow azalea, and the green banks of the “river of mercy” (the Merced) became starred with a profusion of lovely blossoms which we cultivate in gardens.

I watched all the changing effects when the melting snows of the higher sierras brought down all the falls in flood, and transformed the green meadows in the valley to quiet lakes, reflecting the sky and trees; then the waters dried up, leaving everything greener than ever—a rest and delight to the eye.

But far beyond expression was the loveliness of the Californian forests, in which (only in about half-a-dozen groves where the soil is amazingly rich and deep) grow the _Sequoia Gigantea_, which we so very unfairly persist in calling Wellingtonia—the Americans justly saying that if we must give them a man’s name it should be Washingtonia.

The only way in which it is possible to give people in this country an idea of their size is by taking about thirty-five yards of tape and pegging it out in a circle on the lawn. Then you can realise the circumference of these trees. The big ones range from ninety to one hundred and twenty feet. In themselves they are not beautiful, being very much like the red trees in children’s Noah’s arks, with a little tuft of green branches at the top. But they are so surrounded by entrancingly graceful sugar-pines, Douglasias, and other magnificent trees, that the whole combines to produce a dream of loveliness, a true forest sanctuary.

I dare not trust my pen to start on such reminiscences. It has already had free play in my book, _Granite Crags of California_, published by Blackwood.

So I will pass on to 16th August, 1878, when I bade adieu to San Francisco, to which I paid four distinct visits, and sailed for Japan, reaching Yokohama on 6th September.

Owing to my somewhat erratic movements, I reached Japan before the principal letters of introduction which should have awaited me there, so I had to find quarters at the hotel, and as the flood of tourists had not then set in, hotels in the east were not then so luxurious as they are now.

On the following morning I received one of many pleasant proofs of how small the world is. A visitor was announced who, to my pleasurable amazement, proved to be the very nice woman who had accompanied me to India as my lady’s-maid, there to take charge of my sister’s children, and who, refusing a number of “most advantageous” offers of marriage, had resolutely stuck to her charge till they reached Sussex, when she announced her engagement to one of the ship’s stewards. In course of time they found themselves in Japan, and decided to run a really respectable hotel for foreigners in Tokio. They had only just started the enterprise, and very soon found it necessary to seek fortune elsewhere.

Needless to say, I very soon moved thither, and was well cared for till invitations reached me from various kind friends, first and foremost from Henry Dyer, the creator of the Kobu-dai-Gakko or Imperial College of Engineering, which, under his powerful leading and instruction, became the training-centre for a host of clever young Japanese engineers, by whom all manner of railway and other work has been carried out, and bridges built in every part of the group.

When Japan applied to Scotland for the best man she could send to teach practical engineering, there was no doubt at all as to Mr. Dyer being the best, the only drawback being his youth. But his splendid height and preternatural Scottish gravity were such that on his arrival in, I think, 1872, standing fully head and shoulders above his future pupils, any question as to his age would have been preposterous, and he was at once recognised as the embodiment of all the desired wisdom, which was not only to include the different branches of engineering, but also various manufacturing arts.

The first problems he had to face were to draw out a scheme of technical education to enable young Japan to acquire the most practical knowledge on these subjects, and to build a suitable college for his purpose. He was met by suggestions for doing this on a Lilliputian scale, which he at once set aside, and insisted on a handsome brick and stone building on high ground overlooking the castle moats. Within its spacious grounds were houses for himself, as principal, and for nine professors, dormitories for students, class-rooms, lecture-rooms, library, a noble common hall, kitchens, laboratories for the students of chemistry, engineering, etc.

As all tuition is given in English, the students have to commence by acquiring a thorough knowledge of an alien tongue. There are special professors for teaching English, drawing, mathematics, natural philosophy, chemistry, engineering, telegraphic and mechanical engineering, surveying, architecture, mineralogy, geology, mining and metallurgy. The four last were added to enable students to help in developing the great mining resources of the country.

The students acquire their practical knowledge of engineering in the great Government works of Akabané, where every conceivable variety of engines and machines are constructed for use on _terra firma_. Not only was Mr. Dyer called upon to supply bridges of every construction for all parts of the Empire, but machinery of every sort and kind was required at his hands, often taxing his fertile mechanical genius to the very utmost.

When we look at the latest maps of Japan, and see the railways already made, or in course of construction throughout the group, and hear of the telegraphs, telephones, dockyards, shipbuilding yards, arsenals, etc., to which Japan owes so much of her present strength, we can form some idea of the amount of very varied work which has been accomplished by students trained at this College.

It was very gratifying to Mr. Dyer, after his retirement into private life at Glasgow, to receive a letter from the Prime Minister of Japan, saying that the College he had created had been greatly instrumental in saving Japan from Russia.

In the extraordinarily rapid development of Japan in every branch of Western knowledge, it very soon became necessary to remove the Imperial College of Engineering to a much larger building elsewhere, and Mr. Dyer’s building was transformed into a College for Nobles under the title of Teikoku Daigaku, or Imperial University.

One point of interest, which will rapidly increase in value, is the very fine museum in which Mr. Dyer collected specimens of all manner of Japanese products and models of the native machinery which is already obsolete, and would so soon be quite forgotten.

There are also admirable models of all sorts of bridges, engines, and mechanical appliances, while round the walls hang characteristic paintings by native artists, to illustrate all stages of every process of Japanese industry and agriculture, such as ploughing, sowing, reaping, tea-planting, tea-gathering and drying, cultivation of silk worms from the earliest care of the egg to the production of richest brocades, house-building, and manufactures of all sorts. These are a most interesting series, and represent many phases of native life, which will soon exist only as memories. For if it be true that soon the children of Britain and America will fail to understand the simple parables of “The Sower,” “The Reapers,” and “The Gleaners,” because to them steam-engines represent all details of husbandry, it is likely to be equally true in this country of amazingly rapid progress.

And how amazing it has been! Remember I landed in Japan in 1878, and the previous ten years had witnessed the most surprising revolution of modern history. It was in 1867 that, at the age of fifteen, the present Emperor, the Mikado Mutsu Hito, succeeded to his divine office, and that Keiki succeeded to the temporal power as Shogun, the previous Shogun and Mikado having each died of sheer over-anxiety and perplexity at all the worries forced upon them by the determination of foreigners to secure access to Japanese harbours and commerce, and the heavy indemnities by which alone the havoc of big guns could be averted.

Keiki, convinced that the division of power was a serious drawback to the progress of the country, resigned his office, and the wondering land slowly realised that the power and glory of the Shogunate was a story of the past, and that the Mikado would henceforth hold undivided sway. Very unfortunately, however, the Imperial Government began by removing from office all the great _daimios_ who were specially friendly to the Shogunate, and replacing them by followers of the Princes of Satsuma and Choshiu.

This was too much for Keiki, who, repenting of his magnanimous abdication, placed himself at the head of the malcontents, and a grievously bloody but happily brief civil war ensued, in which many temples and beautiful tombs were destroyed, though happily many were chivalrously spared in response to the Mikado’s appeal to the rebels. The Imperial troops came off victorious, and the last of the mighty and magnificent Shoguns retired to live the life of a simple country gentleman in his castle at Skidzuoka, while his followers, no longer encumbered with two swords, and a very natural craving to make use of them, devoted themselves to the cultivation of the land, and of tea in

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The city of Yeddo had for long been the Windsor of the Shoguns. But now its name was changed to Tokio, which means “the eastern capital,” as Kioto signifies “the capital of the west,” having for many centuries been the home where, surrounded by marvels of art, the ancestors of the Mikado had dwelt in rigid seclusion.

The young Emperor was now induced to abandon that strange policy, and to show himself to his people. So in the autumn of 1868 he removed his court from Kioto to the more accessible position of Tokio, and the castle of the Shoguns became the Imperial palace.

From that time till the present the only very serious outbreak that has occurred has been the great rebellion in Satsuma in 1876–77, when discontented _daimios_ and _samurai_, who still clung to the old order of things and hated to see the annihilation of their own power and the encroachments of foreigners, strove to make one last effort to restore the vanished past and regain their lost position. There was obstinate fighting on both sides, and the impoverished land once more saw her sons shedding one another’s blood in civil war, at a cost to the treasury of upwards of eight millions sterling.

Strange indeed is the change which has so rapidly overspread the land. To our matter-of-fact notions it seems well-nigh incredible that the mighty _daimios_, who ten years before exercised greater power than our own highest nobles in old feudal days, should at the bidding of the Emperor carry out their high views of chivalry and self-abnegation in so practical a manner as from sheer patriotism to give up their vast estates and enormous retinues, retaining only one-tenth of their revenues, and quietly assume the character of simple country gentlemen.

Their retainers, the two-sworded Samurai, and even the proud Hatamoto, formerly the most overbearing class in the country, all alike dispersed to seek their bread where they could find it, and from positions of considerable wealth fell into deepest poverty. Those who had family treasures of rare old works of art lived for a while by selling these to foreigners, and set up in trade, formerly so much despised. Some became clerks in Government offices, some teachers in the schools, and I was told that many were earning their daily pittance by running jinrikshas at sixpence an hour, or working as _bettos_ (grooms) in the service of the once-hated foreigner; and how friendly and obliging they are!

Once I realised the antecedents of the jin-riki-ya (our human ponies), their wonderful endurance and power of adaptation to circumstances became to me a source of endless wonder, and was infinitely pathetic. They seemed to be always cheery, always on the look out for a joke, invariably obliging and extraordinarily polite, and yet, poor fellows, what a hard life was theirs, of such abject poverty as to make them eagerly compete for the wretched small coin to be earned by trotting for many miles in the capacity of carriage-horses. The rate of payment is according to a regular tariff, which varies in different parts of the country, ranging from five to twelve _sen_ (cents) a _ri_, the _ri_ being about two and a half miles!

Such meagre pay for such hard work does not sound tempting, yet I was told that in Tokio alone there were actually twenty-three thousand men who were thus earning their scanty bread. Many of these were said to have been of comparatively gentle birth, and certainly they had little foreseen that a day would come when they would be reduced to real hard labour. Yet they accepted their lot as if it were the pleasantest position possible, instead of being a hard struggle for life. Underfed and wretchedly clothed, these poor fellows stand shivering in the cold till happily some one comes by rich enough to hire them.

At certain places there are regular stands answering to our cab-stands, where a number of jinrikshas are always in waiting. When a fare approaches they draw lots to decide which of them shall have the job. Their method of drawing lots is very simple. They have a bunch of many pieces of string, all of different lengths, and whoever secures the longest end gets the run; and off he starts at a rattling pace, perhaps dragging two full-grown people up hill and down for several miles.

The power of endurance of most of these men is perfectly amazing—some of them are so glad to secure a job, that they will undertake to run twenty miles a day for several successive days, rather than yield their place and their little earnings to another. It certainly is not a matter of wonder that so many should have early developed heart complaint and consumption, from which many have died.

When I was returning from beautiful Nikko to Tokio with the French Minister of Legation, who wished to economise time, we had seven jinrikshas, which with their passenger averaged two hundred pounds weight. Each was drawn by two men, who two days previously had brought the Russian admiral and a party of officers up the long, steep ascent, trotting eighty English miles in one day, with such wretched straw sandals that they were almost barefoot. These same men trotted back with us, doing one hundred and eight miles in two days, having only halted each day for breakfast, and a very few minutes besides, and all that we might reach Tokio by 3.30. “It is the pace that kills!”

The regulation dress of the jin-riki-ya is a dark blue garment with long loose sleeves, fastened at the waist, and tight knee-breeches, also dark blue; bare legs and straw sandals tied on with wisps of straw. While patiently waiting for a fare, they sit wrapped up in the scarlet blanket, which is their only warm garment, and which they most carefully and kindly wrap round your knees as you take your seat. For very wet weather they have a waterproof coat of oiled paper, or else one of grass, which looks exactly as if they were thatched.

Sometimes when warm with running, and at a safe distance from the police, they slip off all these superfluous garments, and reveal most wonderfully beautiful tattooing of mediæval history, covering them from head to foot. What tortures they must have endured in the production of such elaborate pictures! Truly it would be a sin against art not to allow us to see them!

A large number of the Samurai found useful work in the police-force, which pervades every district of the wide empire. They are all exceedingly polite, and very quiet, rarely interfering unnecessarily. They wear a neat European uniform—a dark frock coat, belt, and white trousers. One can scarcely believe that these well-drilled, orderly men can be the swashbucklers who so recently were ready to cut down any inoffensive foreigner who did not get out of their way.

Happily they command much the same unquestioning obedience as do our own police, for you see a tiny official arrest a prisoner gently but firmly, and then producing from his pocket a ball of strong cord, he winds it round the body of the offender, and then ties his wrists to his back, leaving a couple of yards free, and holding these like reins, he politely requests the prisoner to walk before him, which he does without the slightest resistance!

As to the prisons where heretofore prisoners were subject to barbarous tortures, all arrangements are now said to be ideal, and all prisoners are educated to do profitable work, in whatever line they seem capable of acquiring. Clever burglars become wonderfully skilful wood-carvers, some are employed in making fans, others make paper lanterns, straw sandals, or baskets, some make delicate pottery or cloisonné; there are weavers, printers, rice-pounders, stone-breakers, some even constructing jinrikshas, all working for the good of their country, while perhaps acquiring a hitherto unknown means of afterwards earning an honest living. Thus Japanese prisons are now true reformatories.

To return to the Kobu-dai-Gakko. The Mikado and the Empress Haruku have taken the keenest personal interest in extensive educational schemes for all classes of their subjects, and Mr. Dyer’s work at the Imperial College of Engineering received their strongest personal encouragement. Only a few weeks before my arrival, the Mikado had paid the college a state visit, which of course was a very solemn ceremonial. His Imperial Majesty was escorted by all the princes of the blood, the great nobles, privy councillors, and all manner of Government officials, who, if only they had appeared in their beautiful national dress, would have been a joy to behold. But, alas! the silken robes were all replaced by European uniforms; gold lace, and cocked hats, or, still more unbecoming, by simple suits of black.

No one can suffer more from this change of dress than the Mikado himself, who is a man of middle stature, and not remarkable for personal beauty, but to whom the robes of state must have lent a dignity which is not enhanced by a stiff, gold-embroidered black coat, white trousers with red stripe, and cocked hat.

The very coachman who drove his handsome open carriage also wore the cocked hat of state. But none of these details will strike you as remarkable unless you remember that heretofore the sacred person of the Mikado has been veiled from all eyes, his own great nobles only being admitted to do homage to a glimpse of his robe just revealed from behind the screen which concealed the Sun of Heaven.

Now, having burst from his bonds, he takes his part freely in all state ceremonials, after the manner of European sovereigns.

On the present occasion he was conducted to a dais in the great hall, where he received an address, and replied in a short speech, both in Japanese, and both intoned in a rapid sing-song. Other speeches followed, and some of the leading students had the very alarming privilege of delivering short essays on various learned topics, after which His Majesty made a grand inspection of all departments of the college, and allowed all the foreign masters and professors the honour of being presented to him.

As the court ceremonial did not permit of any ladies being present on that occasion, the Empress was not allowed to accompany her lord, so she determined to come on her own account.

A general order had been given for the exclusion of all foreigners, so of course my host was the last person who could venture to help me to obtain a stolen glimpse of the Imperial beauty. However, the chance was one not to be lost, and so I went out alone in search of a good position, and fortune proved propitious. I got under a big fir-tree on a hillock overlooking the library door, at which the carriages stopped, and with my faithful companions (the good opera-glasses which have accompanied me on so many travels) I saw admirably.

First came several carriages with maids-of-honour, in green brocade dresses and loose scarlet trousers, their glossy black hair dressed flat like a soup-plate. Then came outriders bearing purple flags with chrysanthemums or kiku (the Imperial crest) embroidered in gold, and finally the Empress’s handsome English close carriage, with chrysanthemum, which also figured on the scarlet hammercloth, and in gold brocade on the white silk lining. But the windows were closed, and muslin curtains drawn, so that I only saw the shiny top of the Imperial head as her ladies closed round the Empress while she alighted. But a few minutes later they all had to walk along an open verandah very near my hiding-place.

As she passed along this open corridor in very slow procession, I had the satisfaction of an excellent view of the Empress and the attendant Princesses Arisugawa and Higashi-Fushimi. The impression thus obtained was a very pleasant one. The Empress has a pleasant and intellectual expression. She is decidedly small, but looked extremely dignified in her crimson skirt and white robe of embroidered silk, made something like a sacque, flowing loose from the neck, which is the ancient court-dress.

The Princesses wore dresses made in the same style, white and crimson (the Imperial colours) predominating. The face and neck of all three ladies were powdered with white, and all three wore their hair in the true court fashion, which is quite unlike that of ordinary life. The hair is combed back from the face and dressed very smoothly over a concealed framework of light cane, shaped like a crescent, which encircles the brow and gives just the necessary support. No ornament of any sort is allowed; the hair is merely tied at the back of the head with a strip of white paper, and hangs behind in a simple plait.

I cannot make out whether this white paper is used as an affectation of studied simplicity, or whether it has some symbolic meaning, strips of white paper being the most sacred emblem in the Shinto temples, in which the Mikado, as the offspring of the sun, receives such devout homage. From the Empress downwards, all wore foreign shoes. I only hope they did not prove the thin end of a wedge which may have brought European fashions to supersede the national costume, to which the ladies almost without exception still continued faithful at that time.

I heard that the Empress won golden opinions from all present by her gentle, unaffected manners, and evident interest in everything about the college. Amongst other novelties prepared for her amusement and that of her ladies, were microphones and telephones, through which they listened to the dulcet melodies of a company of blind musicians, who were stationed in another part of the building.

They stayed at the college about six hours, and as I returned to Mrs. Dyer’s house, I saw the Empress’s carriage, covered with a handsome green cloth, with gold chrysanthemum, the hammercloth with a blue cover, and all the carriage-horses and horses of the escort with blue clothes, all bearing the same Imperial crest, the whole within a temporary wooden enclosure hung with the black cloth, with white oblongs, which denotes sacred Imperial property.

I noticed the same curious black and white cloth hung across a certain bridge in the Mikado’s own beautiful park, which we understood to be an indication that the further side was private. In the part to which we were allowed access there is a succession of ingenious Japanese gardens, with artificial lakes, streams, cascades, rocks, green lawns, fine old dwarfed fir-trees, clumps of bamboos, and all manner of dainty prettinesses.

But these, in varying detail, we saw repeated so often that I confess they at last lost something of their first fascination, and that is what can never be said of the exquisite natural scenery which I found wherever I had the good-fortune to go, and which was described to me as being just as lovely throughout the group, and always enhanced by the prettiness of tea-houses or little shrines perched just in the right spot for general effect.

As for attempting by any mere words to give the faintest idea of the enchanting groves and gorgeous shrines at Uyeno, Shiba, Nikko, and elsewhere, it has been often attempted, but is altogether hopeless. Coloured stereoscopes of individual portions might convey some faint idea, but even they could do little, for while every detail is artistic and of exquisite beauty, half the charm lies in the combination of so many beautiful objects, all clustered together on these steep hillsides, enfolded in the cool, deep shades of the evergreen forest, stately cryptomerias whose tops seem to touch the deep blue sky, and the undergrowth of wild camelia-trees, which when I first saw them were gemmed all over with pink single blossoms, and showering their leaves in a rosy shower on the soft green moss.

When you consider that Tokio alone, with its noble castle, parks, and moats, overshadowed by most picturesquely gnarled old “Scotch firs,” is said to cover almost as large an area as London, and to contain at least five hundred temples and shrines, besides the countless quaint shows and curio-shops, and the crowds of delightfully polite, prettily dressed women and children, you can understand that a traveller on first arriving finds it difficult to start further afield. Yet every expedition I made in each new direction seemed more fascinating than the last, and many kind friends escorted me to the points of greatest interest from different centres right away south to Nagasaki, which is the beautiful seaport nearest to China.

Mrs. Dyer’s hospitable house continued to be my home from whence to come and go for many weeks. For three months, each day brought a bewildering succession of interests and novelties, then as winter advanced I began to realise that sleeping in Japanese paper houses, with only movable wooden walls to be run into place round the verandah at night, was much too chilly for comfort. I therefore from Nagasaki passed on to China, reaching Hong Kong on Christmas Eve (in time to witness an appalling but magnificent fire, which consumed whole blocks of houses in the town, the house in which I was staying a little way up the hill, just overlooking this scene of awful beauty).

After six months in China (fully described in my _Wanderings in China_, published by Blackwood), I returned to Japan for three more months, crammed full of interests. But on my return to Britain I was assured that Japan had already been over-written—that all travellers spun Japanese yarns _ad nauseam_, and that I had better not add to the list of such. So I abstained; and if that was sound advice twenty-four years ago, surely it must be very much more so now, when the array of scribblers as well as of earnest writers has multiplied so greatly.

And yet, as I turn over page after page of my diary, which has lain unopened for so many years, it recalls so much that was fascinating, that I am sorely tempted to quote a few passages, though it will be difficult to know how to stop!

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