that their true interest lies in the fullest and freest intercourse with the younger nations; that they have nothing to fear from European civilization; that the good things we have given to the world are good for Japanese and Chinamen, as well as for Britons and Americans; that international law will secure them as many rights as other nations enjoy; that they will not always appeal in vain to the sympathy and justice of the aggressive war-making powers; and that profitable development will only come when their own people are educated so as to appreciate and extend the lessons of Western civilization. Whatever may be the effect of this advice, it is worthy of note that the General has lost no opportunity of giving it. He has given it to men who have gone out of their way to do him honor, and to ask his advice and aid. I allude to the fact because it would be a mistake to suppose that we are merely an idle party, sailing over summer seas, our days given to the wonderful scenery with which the All-beneficent Hand has decked these shores, our nights to the universe, the constella VOL. II.-33 tions, the serene whispering sea, music and fireworks, talk and song. If I have dwelt in these writings upon the lighter and brighter aspects of our journey, it is because I am glad to escape from serious themes, from politics and statesmanship, and gather up in a feeble, wandering way the impressions of nature. You sit on the deck, as I am sitting now, a steel breech-loading three-inch rifle gun for a table. The movement of the boat makes writing difficult, for the hand trembles, and the pen bobs over the paper as though I were tattooing, not writing. The General sits on the rear of the deck with Mr. Bingham and Mr. Yoshida, the Japanese minister, with a map unrolled, marking out our course and noting the prominent points of the scenery. Captain Benham is on the bridge, Mr. Sperry bends over the charts, Lieut.-Commander Clarke walks slowly up and down, waiting for the moment when, taking the trumpet from Mr. Stevens, the officer of the watch, he will bring the ship to anchor. "Three bells!" It is half-past one, and we are slowly moving into the bay of Sumida, where we are to anchor. A trim orderly comes tripping up the steps with the captain's compliments and the news that Fusiyama is in sight. Fusiyama is one of the glories of the mountain world, with its lofty peak, wrapped in eternal snow, over fourteen thousand feet high, occasionally sending out fire and smoke, making the earth tremble, and admonishing men of the awful and terrible glory embosomed in its rocky sides. We all go to the taffrail, and although clouds are clustered in the heavens, in time we trace the outlines of the mountain towering far into the inaccessible skies. Its beauty and its grandeur are veiled, and we dwell upon the green, dimpled hills, and the rolling plains. The sea becomes a lighter blue. Our Japanese convoy stops. A signal is made to the "Ashuelot" to slacken speed. Grant, leaning on the arm of one of the officers, saunters up and down the deck enjoying the blended beauty of hill and sea. The loud word of command echoes along the deck. Sailors bustle about and make the boats ready for lowering. "Stand by the port-anchor!" and the boatswain's whistle answers the command. The bell rings admonition to go slowly, to back, Mrs. to stand still. "Let go the port-anchor!" The chain rumbles over the side. The anchor plunges into the sea, and the noble vessel slowly swings around in a hissing sea, under the shadow of the mountain. I thought of Naples as we swung at anchor in Sumida Bay, Naples perhaps coming to my mind because of Fusiyama, the famous volcano-one of the mountain beauties of the globe, which hid herself in the clouds, and only looked at us now and then through the coy and sheltering mist. Fusiyama is a noble mountain, and although thirty miles away, looked as near as Vesuvius from Naples. Then I thought of Longfellow's dream-picture of Japan, in which he draws an outline of Fusiyama, and as I was fortunate enough to find the lines in one of the naval officers' rooms, I quote them: "Cradled and rocked in Eastern seas, The islands of the Japanese Beneath me lie. O'er lake and plain The stork, the heron, and the crane The villages of Iwari, Whose thronged and flaming workshops lift Cloud-cloisters that in ruins lie, With sunshine streaming through each rift, "All the bright flowers that fill the land, Ripples of waves on rock or sand, The snow on Fusiyama's cone, The midnight heaven so thickly sown With constellations of bright stars, The leaves that rustle, the reeds that make A whisper by each stream and lake, The saffron dawn, the sunset red, The bay of Sumida is not open to the outside world, and we are only here because we are the guests of the Emperor. Under the treaties there are specified ports open to trade, and in others vessels are forbidden to enter except under stress of weather. The Japanese would be glad to open any port in their kingdom, if the foreign powers would abate some of the hard conditions imposed upon them at the point of the bayonet. On this there will, one hopes, soon be an understanding honor But we able to Japan, and useful to the commercial world. are especially privileged in being allowed to come to a closed port, because we see Japan untouched by the foreigner. We have a glimpse of the land as it must have been before the deluge. The coming of these men-of-war was a startling circumstance, and the whole town, men, women, and children, were soon out in boats and barges and junks to see us. tain Benham gave orders that they should be allowed to come on board fifty at a time and go through the ship. It would be a treat, he thought, and they would remember our flag, and Cap AN OLD JAPANESE TOWN. 517 when next it came into their port, remember the kindness that had been shown them. This seemed to be a wise and benevolent diplomacy, and was in no ways abused. Old men and old women, mothers with children strapped on their shoulders or tugging at their breasts, fishermen, all classes in fact, with clothes and without clothes, came streaming over the side to look and wonder, and marvel at the great glowering guns. The governor of the province called, and invited us to visit him in his capital town, an old-fashioned town about six miles in the interior. We landed and spent a few minutes looking at the catch of fish made by the fishermen, and noted a species with fins colored like the wings of a butterfly. We visited a tea house and saw the tea in its various processes of curing. There were maidens with nimble fingers who sorted out the good from the bad, and earned in that labor ten cents a day. Mr. Bingham, Captain Benham, and several officers of the Ashuelot" and "Richmond" increased our number, and when finally about ten in the morning we set out for a visit to Shiguoka, we had quite a procession of jinrickshaws. The whole town was out, and every house displayed the Japanese flag. Schools dismissed, and the scholars formed in line, their teachers at their head, and bowed low as we passed. The roads were fairly good, much better than I have seen in the suburbs. of New York, and our perambulators spun along at a good pace. When we left the town we passed under shady trees, and stretches of low rice fields, almost under water, and fields of tea. Policemen, dapper little fellows in white uniforms with small staffs, were stationed at regular points to keep order. But the policeman seemed quite out of place in smiling, happy, amiable Japan. The people were in the best of humor, and rumors of our coming evidently had preceded us, for all along the road we found people watching and waiting to welcome the General with a smile and a bow. About noon we reached the town, and bowled along merrily over streets which had rarely if ever seen the foot of a European. As a pure Japanese town, without a tint of European civilization, it was most interesting. The streets were clean and narrow, the people in |