From Egypt to Japan

Yokohama has an American newness and freshness. It is only a few years since it has come into existence as a place of any importance. It was only a small fishing village until the opening of Japan, since which it has become the chief port of foreign commerce. It is laid out in convenient streets, which are well paved, and kept clean, and altogether the place has a brisk and lively air, as of some new and thriving town in our own country.

But just at this moment we are not so much interested to see American improvements as to see the natives on their own soil. Here they are in all their glory – pure-blooded Asiatics – and yet of a type that is not Mongolian or Malayan or Indian. The Jap is neither a "mild Hindoo" nor a "heathen Chinee." His hair is shaved from his head in a fashion quite his own, making a sort of triangle on the crown; and no long pigtail decorates his person behind. We recognize him at once, for never was a human creature so exactly like his portrait. We see every day the very same figures that we have seen all our lives on tea-cups and saucers, and fans and boxes. Our first acquaintance with them was as charioteers, in which they take the place, not of drivers, but of horses; for the jin-riki-sha (literally, a carriage drawn by man power) has no other "team" harnessed to it. The vehicle is exactly like a baby carriage, only made for "children of a larger growth." It is simply an enlarged perambulator, on two wheels, drawn by a coolie; and when one takes his seat in it, he cannot help feeling at first as if he were a big baby, whom his nurse had tucked up and was taking out for an airing. But one need not be afraid of it, lest he break down the carriage, or tire out the steed that draws it. No matter how great your excellency may be, the stout fellow will take up the thills, standing where the pony or the donkey ought to be, and trot off with you at a good pace, making about four miles an hour. At first the impression was irresistibly ludicrous, and we laughed at ourselves to see what a ridiculous figure we cut. Indeed we did not quite recover our sobriety during the three weeks that we were in Japan. But after all it is a very convenient way of getting about, and one at least is satisfied that his horses will not run away, though he must not be too sure of that, for I sometimes felt, especially when going down hill, that they had got loose, and would land me with a broken head at the bottom.

But Yokohama is only the gate of Yedo (or Tokio, as it is the fashion to call it now, but I keep to the old style as more familiar), of which we had read even in our school geographies as one of the most populous cities of Asia. The access is very easy, for it is only eighteen miles distant, and there is a railroad, so that it is but an hour's ride. While on our way that morning, we had our first sight of Fusiyama. Though seventy miles distant, its dome of snow rose on the horizon sharp and clear, like the Jungfrau at Interlachen.

Arrived at Yedo, the station was surrounded by jinrikishas, whose masters were kept in better order than the cabmen of New York. Wishing to appear in the capital with proper dignity, we took two men instead of one, so that each had a full team; and fine young bloods they were, full of spirit, that fairly danced with us along the street, in such gay fashion that my clerical garb was hardly sufficient to preserve my clerical character. We first trotted off to the American Minister's, Mr. Bingham's, who received us with all courtesy, and sent for the interpreter of the Legation, Rev. Mr. Thompson, an American missionary, who kindly offered to be our guide about the city, and gave up the day to us. With such a cicerone, we started on our rounds. He took us first to what is called the Summer Palace, though it is not a palace at all, but only a park, to which the Mikado comes once in a while to take his royal pleasure. There are a few rest-houses scattered about, where one, whether king or commoner, might find repose; or strolling under the shade of trees, and looking off upon the tranquil sea. Next we rode to the Tombs of the Tycoons, where, under gilded shrines, beneath temples and pagodas, sleep the royal dead. The grounds are large and the temples exquisitely finished, with the fine lacquer work for which the Japanese are famous; so that we had to take off our shoes, and step very softly over the polished floors. Riding on through endless streets, our friend took us to a hill, ascended by a long flight of steps, on the top of which, in an open space, stood a temple, an arbor, and a tea-house. This point commands an extensive view of Yedo. It is a city of magnificent distances, spreading out for miles on every side; and yet, except for its extent, it is not at all imposing, for it is, like Canton, a mere wilderness of houses, relieved by no architectural magnificence – not a single lofty tower or dome rising above the dead level. But, unlike Canton, the city has very broad streets, sometimes crossed by a river or a canal, spanned by high, arched bridges. The principal business street is much wider than Broadway, but it has not a shop along its whole extent that would make any show even in "The Bowery." The houses are built only one story high, because of earthquakes which are frequent in Japan, caused, as the people believe, by a huge fish which lies under the island, and that shakes it whenever he tosses his head or lashes his tail. The houses are of such slight construction that they burn like tinder; and it is not surprising that the city is often swept by destructive fires. But if the whole place were thus swept away, or if it were shaken to pieces by an earthquake in the night, the people would pick themselves up in the morning and restore their dwellings, with not much more difficulty than soldiers, whose tents had been blown down by the wind, would find in pitching them again and making another camp. Some of the government buildings are of more stately proportions, and there are open grounds in certain quarters of the city, adorned with magnificent trees, like the ancient oaks which cast their shadows on the smooth-shaven lawns of England, and give to English parks such an air of dignity and repose.

The Castle of the late Tycoon, which may be said to be the heart of the city, around which it clusters, is more of a fortress than a palace. There is an immense enclosure surrounded by a deep moat (whose sides are very pretty, banked with rich green turf), and with picturesque old towers standing at intervals along the walls. In the rear of the grounds of the old Castle is the much less ambitious residence of the Mikado, where he is duly guarded, though he does not now, as formerly, keep himself invisible, as if he were a divinity descended from the skies, who in mysterious seclusion ruled the affairs of men.

By this time we were a little weary of sight-seeing, and drew up at a Japanese tea-house, to take our tiffin. The place was as neat as a pin, and the little maids came out to receive us, and bowed themselves to the ground, touching the earth with their foreheads, in token of the great honor that had come to their house – homage that we received with becoming dignity, and went on our way rejoicing.

The pleasantest sights that we saw to-day were two which showed the awakened intelligence and spirit of progress among the people. These were the Government College, with two hundred students, manned in part by American professors (where we found our countryman Dr. Veeder in his lecture-room, performing experiments); and an old Temple of Confucius which has been turned into a library and reading-room. Here was a large collection of books and periodicals, many from foreign countries, over which a number of persons were quietly but studiously engaged. The enclosure was filled with grand old trees, and had the air of an academic grove, whose silent shades were devoted to study and learning.

After this first visit to the capital, we took a week for an excursion into the interior, which gave us a sight of the country and of Japanese life. This we could not have made with any satisfaction but for our friends the missionaries. They kindly sketched the outlines of a trip to the base of Fusiyama, seventy miles from Yedo. It was very tempting, but what could we do without guides or interpreters? We should be lost like babes in the wood. It occurred to us that such a journey might do them good. Dr. Brown and Dr. Hepburn, the oldest missionaries in Japan, had been closely confined for months in translating the Scriptures, and needed some relief. A little country air would give them new life; so we invited them to be our guests, and we would make a week of it. We finally prevailed upon them to "come apart and rest awhile," not in a "desert," but in woodland shades, among the mountains and by the sea. Their wives came with them, without whom their presence would have given us but half the pleasure it did. Thus encompassed and fortified with the best of companions, with a couple of English friends, we made a party of eight, which, with the usual impedimenta of provisions and a cook, and extra shawls and blankets, required eleven jinrikishas, with two men harnessed to each, making altogether quite a grand cavalcade, as we sallied forth from Yokohama on a Monday noon in "high feather." To our staid missionary friends it was an old story; but to us, strangers in the land, it was highly exciting to be thus starting off into the interior of Japan. The country around Yokohama is hilly and broken. Our way wound through a succession of valleys rich with fields of rice and barley, while along the roads shrubberies, which at home are cultivated with great care, grew in wild profusion – the wisteria, the honeysuckle, and the eglantine. The succession of hill and valley gave to the country a variety and beauty which, with the high state of cultivation, reminded us of Java. As we mounted the hills we had glimpses of the sea, for we were skirting along the Bay of Yedo. After a few miles we came to an enchanting spot, which bears the ambitious title of the Plains of Heaven, yet which is not heaven, and is not even a plain – but a rolling country, in which hill and valley are mingled together, with the purple mountains as a background on one side and the blue waters on the other.

As we rode along, I thought how significant was the simple fact of such an excursion as this in a country, where a few years ago no foreigner's life was safe. On this very road, less than ten years since, an Englishman was cut down for no other crime than that of being a foreigner, and getting in the way of the high daimio who was passing. And now we jogged along as quietly, and with as little apprehension, as if we were riding through the villages of New England.

On our way lies a town which once bore a great name, Kamakura, where nine centuries ago lived the great Yoritomo, the Napoleon of his day, the founder of the military rule in the person of the Shogun (or Tycoon, a title but lately assumed), as distinguished from that of the Mikado. Here he made his capital, which was afterwards removed, and about three hundred years since fixed in Yedo; and Kamakura is left, like other decayed capitals, to live on the recollections of its former greatness. But no change can take away its natural beauty, in its sheltered valley near the sea.

A mile beyond, we came to the colossal image of Dai-Buts, or Great Buddha. It is of bronze, and though in a sitting posture, is forty-four feet high. The hands are crossed upon the knees. We crawled up into his lap, and five of us sat side by side on his thumbs. We even went inside, and climbed up into his head, and proved by inspection that these idols, however colossal and imposing without, are empty within. There are no brains within their brazen skulls. The expression of the face is the same as in all statues of Buddha: that of repose – passive, motionless – as of one who had passed through the struggles of life, and attained to Nirvana, the state of perfect calm, which is the perfection of heavenly beatitude.

It was now getting towards sunset, and we had still five or six miles to go before we reached our resting-place for the night. As this was the last stage in the journey, our fleet coursers seemed resolved to show us what they could do. They had cast off all their garments, except a cloth around their loins, and straw sandals on their feet, so that they were stripped like Roman gladiators, and they put forth a speed as if racing in the arena. A connoisseur would admire their splendid physique. Their bodies were tattooed, like South Sea Islanders, which set out in bolder relief, as in savage warriors, their muscular development – their broad chests and brawny limbs. With no stricture of garments to bind them, their limbs were left free for motion. It was a study to see how they held themselves erect. With heads and chests thrown back, they balanced themselves perfectly. The weight of the carriage seemed nothing to them; they had only to keep in motion, and it followed. Thus we came rushing into the streets of Fujisawa, and drew up before the tea-house, where lodgings had been ordered for the night. The whole family turned out to meet us, the women falling on their knees, and bowing their heads till they touched the floor, in homage to the greatness of their guests.

And now came our first experience of a Japanese tea-house. If the jin-riki-sha is like a baby carriage, the tea-house is like a baby house. It is small, built entirely of wood with sliding partitions, which can be drawn, like screens, to enclose any open space, and make it into a room. These partitions are of paper, so that of course the "chambers" are not very private. The same material is used for windows, and answers very well, as it softens the light, like ground glass. The house has always a veranda, so that the rooms are protected from the sun by the overhanging roof. The bedrooms are very small, but scrupulously clean, and covered with wadded matting, on which we lie down to sleep.

At Fujisawa is a temple, which is visited by the Mikado once or twice in the year. We were shown through his private rooms, and one or two of us even stretched ourselves upon his bed, which, however, was not a very daring feat, as it was merely a strip of matting raised like a low divan or ottoman, a few inches above the floor. The temples are not imposing structures, and have no beauty except that of position. They generally stand on a hill, and are approached by an avenue or a long flight of steps, and the grounds are set out with trees, which are left to grow till they sometimes attain a majestic height and breadth. In front of this temple stands a tree, which we recognized by its foliage as the Salisburia adiantifolia– a specimen of which we had in America on our own lawn, but there it was a shrub brought from the nursery, while here it was like a cedar of Lebanon. It was said to be a thousand years old. Standing here, it was regarded as a sacred tree, and we looked up to it with more reverence than to the sombre temple behind, or the sleepy old bonzes who were sauntering idly about the grounds.

The next morning, as we started on our journey, we came upon the Tokaido, the royal road of Japan, built hundreds of years ago from Yedo to Kioto, to connect the political with the spiritual capital – the residence of the Tycoon with that of the Mikado. It is the highway along which the daimios came in state to pay their homage to the Tycoon at Yedo, as of old subject-princes came to Rome. It is constructed with a good deal of skill in engineering, which is shown in carrying it over mountains, and in the building of bridges. Portions of the road are paved with blocks of stone like the Appian Way. But that which gives it a glory and majesty all its own, is its bordering of gigantic cedars – the Cryptomeria Japonica– which attain an enormous height, with gnarled and knotted limbs that have wrestled with the storms of centuries.

As we advance, the road comes out upon the sea, for we have crossed the peninsula which divides the Bay of Yedo from the Pacific, and are now on the shores of the ocean itself. How beautiful it seemed that day! It was the last of May, and the atmosphere was full of the warmth of early summer. The coast is broken by headlands shooting out into the deep, which enclose bays, where the soft, warm sunshine lingers as on the shores of the Mediterranean, and the waters of the mighty Pacific come gently rippling up the beach. So twixt sea and land, sunshine and shade, we sped gaily along to Odawara – another place which was once the residence of a powerful chief, whose castle is still there, though in ruins; its stones, if questioned of the past, might tell a tale like that of one of the castles on the Rhine. These old castles are the monuments of the same form of government, for the Feudal System existed in Japan as in Germany. The kingdom was divided into provinces, ruled by great daimios, who were like the barons of the Middle Ages, each with his armed retainers, who might be called upon to support the central government, yet who sometimes made war upon it. This Feudal System is now completely destroyed. As we were riding over the Tokaido, I pictured to myself the great pageants that had swept along so proudly in the days gone by. What would those old barons have thought if they could have seen in the future an irruption of invaders from beyond the sea, and that even this king's highway should one day be trodden by the feet of outside barbarians?

At Odawara we dismissed our men, (who, as soon as they received their money, started off for Yokohama,) as we had to try another mode of transportation; for though we still kept the Tokaido, it ascends the mountains so steeply that it is impassable for anything on wheels, and we had to exchange the jinrikisha for the kago– a kind of basket made of bamboo, in which a man is doubled up and packed like a bundle, and so carried on men's shoulders. It would not answer badly if he had neither head nor legs. But his head is always knocking against the ridge-pole, and his legs have to be twisted under him, or "tied up in a bow-knot." This is the way in which criminals are carried to execution in China; but for one who has any further use for his limbs, it is not altogether agreeable. I lay passive for awhile, feeling as if I had been packed and salted down in a pork-barrel. Then I began to wriggle, and thrust out my head on one side and the other, and at last had to confess, like the Irishman who was offered the privilege of working his passage on a canal-boat and was set to leading a horse, that "if it were not for the honor of the thing, I had as lief walk." So I crawled out and unrolled myself, to see if my limbs were still there, for they were so benumbed that I was hardly conscious of their existence, and then straightening myself out, and taking a long bamboo reed, which is light and strong, lithe and springy, for an alpenstock, I started off with my companions. We all soon recovered our spirits, and

"Walked in glory and in joy
Along the mountain side,"

till at nightfall we halted in the village of Hakoné, a mountain retreat much resorted to by foreigners from Yedo and Yokohama.

Here we might have been in the Highlands of Scotland, for we were in the heart of mountains, and on the border of a lake. To make the resemblance more perfect, a Scotch mist hung over the hills, and rain pattered on the roof all night long, and half the next day. But at noon the clouds broke, and we started on our journey. Dr. and Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Hepburn kept to their baskets, and were borne a long way round, while the rest of us were rowed across the lake, a beautiful sheet of water, nestled among the hills, like Loch Katrine. One of these hills is tunnelled for two miles, to carry the water under it to irrigate the rice fields of some twenty villages. Landing on the other side of the lake, we had before us a distance of eight or ten miles. Our coolies stood ready to carry us, but all preferred the freedom of their unfettered limbs. The mountain is volcanic, and on the summit is a large space made desolate by frequent eruptions, out of which issues smoke laden with the fumes of sulphur, and hot springs throw off jets of steam, and boil and bubble, and hiss with a loud noise, as if all the furies were pent up below, and spitting out their rage through the fissures of the rocks. The side of the mountain is scarred and torn, and yellow with sulphur, like the sides of Vesuvius. The natives call the place Hell. It was rather an abrupt transition, after crossing the Plains of Heaven a day or two before, to come down so soon to the sides of the pit.

Towards evening we came down into the village of Miya-no-shita (what musical names these Japanese have!), where our friends were waiting for us, and over a warm cup of tea talked over the events of the day. This is a favorite resort, for its situation among the mountains, with lovely walks on every side, and for its hot springs. Water is brought into the hotel in pipes of bamboo, so hot that one is able to bear it only after slowly dipping his feet into it, and thus sliding in by degrees, when the sensation is as of being scalded alive. But it takes the soreness out of one's limbs weary with a long day's tramp; and after being steamed and boiled, we stretched ourselves on the clean mats of the tea-house, and slept the sleep of innocence and peace.

One cannot go anywhere in Japan without receiving a visit from the people, who, being of a thrifty turn, seize the occasion of a stranger's presence to drive a little trade. The skill of the Japanese is quite marvellous in certain directions: They make everything in petto, in miniature – the smallest earthenware; the tiniest cups and saucers. In these mountain villages they work, like the Swiss, in wooden-ware, and make exquisite and dainty little boxes and bureaus, as if for dolls, yet with complete sets of drawers, which could not but take the fancy of one who had little people at home waiting for presents. Besides the temptation of such trinkets, who could resist the insinuating manner of the women who brought them? The Japanese women are not pretty. They might be, were it not for their odious fashions. We have seen faces that would be quite handsome if left in their native, unadorned beauty. But fashion rules the world in Japan as in Paris. As soon as a woman is married her eyebrows are shaved off, and her teeth blackened, so that she cannot open her mouth without showing a row of ebony instead of ivory, which disfigures faces that would be otherwise quite winning. It says a good deal for their address, that with such a feature to repel, they can still be attractive. This is owing wholly to their manners. The Japanese men and women are a light-hearted race, and captivate by their gayety and friendliness. The women were always in a merry mood. As soon as they entered the room, before even a word was spoken, they began to giggle, as if our appearance were very funny, or as if this were the quickest way to be on good terms with us. The effect was irresistible. I defy the soberest man to resist it, for as soon as your visitor laughs, you begin to laugh from sympathy; and when you have got into a hearty laugh together, you are already acquainted, and in friendly relations, and the work of buying and selling goes on easily. They took us captive in a few minutes. We purchased sparingly, thinking of our long journey; but our English friends bought right and left, till the next day they had to load two pack-horses with boxes to be carried over the mountains to Yokohama.

The next day was to bring the consummation of our journey, for then we were to go up into a mountain and see the glory of the Lord. A few miles distant is the summit of Otometoge, from which one obtains a view of Fusiyama, looking full in his awful face. We started with misgivings, for it had been raining, and the clouds still hung low upon the mountains. Our way led through hamlets clustered together in a narrow pass, like Alpine villages. As we wound up the ascent, we often stopped to look back at the valley below, from which rose the murmur of rushing waters, while the sides of the mountains were clothed with forests. These rich landscapes gave such enchantment to the scene as repaid us for all our weariness. At two o'clock we reached the top, and rushed to the brow to catch the vision of Fusiyama, but only to be disappointed. The mountain was there, but clouds covered his hoary head. In vain we watched and waited; still the monarch hid his face. Clouds were round about the throne. The lower ranges stood in full outline, but the heaven-piercing dome, or pyramid of snow, was wrapped in its misty shroud. That for which we had travelled seventy miles, we could not see at last.

Is it not often so in life? The moments that we have looked forward to with highest expectations, are disappointing when they come. We cross the seas, and journey far, to reach some mount of vision, when lo! the sight that was to reward us is hidden from our eyes; while our highest raptures come to us unsought, perhaps in visions of the night.

But our toilsome climb was not unrewarded. Below us lay a broad, deep valley, to which the rice fields gave a vivid green, dotted with houses and villages, which were scattered over the middle distance, and even around the base of Fusiyama himself. Drinking in the full loveliness of the scene, we turned to descend, and after a three hours' march, footsore and weary, entered our Alpine village of Miya-no-shita.

The next morning we set out to return. Had the day shone bright and clear, we should have been tempted to renew our ascent of the day before. But as the clouds were still over the sky, we reluctantly turned away. Taking another route from that by which we came, we descended a deep valley, and winding around the heights which we had crossed before, at eleven o'clock reëntered Odawara.

And now we had done with our marching and our kagos, and once more took to our chariots, which drew up to the door – the men not exactly saddled and bridled, but stripped for the race, with no burden added to the burden of the flesh which they had to carry. A crowd collected to see us depart, and looked on admiringly as we went dashing through the long street of Odawara, and out upon the Tokaido. Our way, as before, led by the sea, which was in no tempestuous mood, but calm and tranquil, as if conscious that the summer was born. The day was not too warm, for the clouds that were flying over the sky shielded us from the direct rays of the sun; yet as we looked out now and then, the giant trees cast their shadows across our path. An American poet sings:

"What is so rare as a day in June?"

Surely nothing could be more rare or fair; but even the sky and the soft Summer air seemed more full of exquisite sensations to the strangers who were that day rolling along the shores of the Pacific, under the mighty cedars of the Tokaido.

Once more I was surprised and delighted at the agility and swiftness of the men who drew our jin-riki-shas. As we had but twenty-three miles to go in the afternoon, we took it easily, and gave them first only a gentle trot of five miles to get their limbs a little supple, and then stopped for tiffin. Some of the men had on a loose jacket when we started, besides the girdle about the loins. This they took off and wrung out, for they were dripping with sweat, and wiped their brawny chests and limbs, and then took their chopsticks and applied themselves to their rice, while we went upstairs in the tea-house, and had our soup and other dishes served to us, sitting on the floor like Turks, and then stretched ourselves on the mats, weary with our morning's walk, and even with the motion of riding. While we were trying to get a little rest our men talked and laughed in the court below as if it were child's play to take us over the road. As we resumed our places and turned out of the yard, I had the curiosity to "time" their speed. I had a couple of athletic fellows, who thought me a mere feather in weight, and made me spin like a top as they bowled along. They started off at an easy trot, which they kept up, without breaking, mile after mile. I did not need to crack the whip, but at the word, away they flew through villages and over the open country, never stopping, but when they came to slightly rising ground, rushing up like mettlesome horses, and down at full speed. Thus they kept on, and never drew rein till they came to the bank of a river, which had to be crossed in a boat. I took out my watch. It was an hour and a quarter, and they had come seven miles and a half! This was doing pretty well. Of course they could not keep this up all day; yet they will go thirty miles from sunrise to sunset, and even forty, if spurred to it by a little extra pay. Sometimes, indeed, they go even at a still greater speed for a short distance. The first evening, as we came into Fujisawa, I do not doubt that the last fifteen minutes they were going at a speed of ten miles an hour, for they came in on a run. This is magnificent, but I cannot think it very healthful exercise. As gymnasts and prize-fighters grow old and die before their time, so with these human racehorses. Dr. Hepburn says it exhausts them very early; that they break down with disease of the heart or lungs. They are very liable to rheumatism. This is partly owing to their carelessness. They get heated, and then expose their naked bodies to drafts of cold air, which of course stiffens their limbs, so that an old runner becomes like a foundered horse. But even with all care, the fatigue is very exhausting, and often brings on diseases which take them off in their prime. Yet you cannot restrain their speed, any more than that of colts that have never been broken. I often tried to check them, but they "champed at the bit," and after a few vain remonstrances I had to give it up, and "let them slide."

We did not stop at Fujisawa, where we had slept before, for it is a large and noisy town, but pushed on three miles farther, across a sandy beach to Enoshima, a little fishing village, which stands on a point of land jutting out into the sea, so that at high tide it is an island, and at low tide a peninsula. Indeed, it is not much more than a projecting rock of a few hundred acres, rising high out of the waters, and covered thickly with groves of trees, among which are several Buddhist temples. As we strolled along the top of the cliffs at sunset, there were a dozen points of view where we could sit under the shade of trees a hundred feet above the waves, as on the cliffs of the Isle of Wight, saying with Tennyson:

"Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!"

The next morning we rambled over the hills again, for it was a spot where one could but linger. The bay was alive with boats, as

"The fishers went sailing out into the West."

On the shore were divers, who plunged from the rocks into deep water, to bring up shells and coral for us, and a sort of sponge peculiar to this country, with spicules like threads of spun glass. Under the cliff is a long cave, hollowed out by the waves, with an arch overhead like a vaulted roof. Thus under ground or above ground we wandered hour after hour.

But all things pleasant must have an end. The week was gone; it was Saturday noon: and so reluctantly leaving both the mountains and the sea, and taking to our chariots once more, we struck into the Tokaido, and in four hours were rolling along the Bund at Yokohama.

Three days after we made a second visit to Yedo, to visit an American gentleman who held a position in the Foreign Office, and spent a night at his pretty Japanese house in the Government grounds. Here being, as it were, in the interior of the State Department, we got some European news; among which was the startling intelligence of a revolution in Turkey, and that Abdul Aziz had been deposed!

In our second excursion about the city, as we had long distances to traverse, we took two prancing bucks to each jinrikisha, who ran us such a rig through the streets of Yedo as made us think of John Gilpin when he rode to London town. The fellows were like wild colts, so full of life that they had to kick it off at the heels. Sometimes one pulled in front while the other pushed behind, but more often they went tandem, the one in advance drawing by a cord over his shoulder. The leader was so full of spring that he fairly bounded over the ground, and if we came to a little elevation, or arched bridge, he sprang into the air like a catamount, while his fellow behind, though a little more stiff, as a "wheel horse" ought to be, bore himself proudly, tossing up his head, and throwing out his chest, and never lagged for an instant. C – was delighted, nothing could go too fast for her; but whether it was fear for my character or for my head, I had serious apprehension that I should be "smashed" like Chinese crockery, and poked my steeds in the rear with my umbrella to signify that I was entirely satisfied with their performances, and that they need not go any faster!

While in Yedo we attended a meeting of missionaries, English, Scotch, and American, in a distant part of the city, and in the evening paid a visit to Prof. Verbeck, who has been here so long that he is an authority on all Japanese matters. It was eight o'clock when we set out to return to our friends in the Foreign Office, and we bade our men take us through the main streets, that we might have a view of Yedo by night. The distance was some three miles, the greater part through the principal street. It was near the time of the full moon, but fortunately she was hidden to-night by clouds, for even her soft radiance could not give such animation and picturesqueness to the scene as the lights of the city itself. The broad street for two miles was in a flare of gas-light, like one of the great streets of Paris. The shops were open and lighted; added to which were hundreds (perhaps thousands) of jin-riki-shas, each with its Chinese lantern, glancing two and fro, like so many fireflies on a summer night, making a scene such as one reads of in the Arabian Nights, but as I had never witnessed before.

But that which is of most interest to a stranger in Japan, is not Yedo or Fusiyama, but the sudden revolution which has taken place in its relations with other countries, and in its internal condition. This is one of the most remarkable events in history, which, in a few years, has changed a whole nation, so that from being the most isolated, the most exclusive, and the most rigidly conservative, even in Asia, it has become the most active and enterprising; the most open to foreign influences; the most hospitable to foreign ideas, and the most ready to introduce foreign improvements. This change has taken Japan out of the ranks of the non-progressive nations, to place it, if not in the van of modern improvement, at least not very far in the rear. It has taken it out of the stagnant life of Asia, to infuse into its veins the life of Europe and America. In a word, it has, as it were, unmoored Japan from the coast of Asia, and towed it across the Pacific, to place it alongside of the New World, to have the same course of life and progress.

It is a singular fact, which, as it has united our two nations in the past, ought to unite us in the future, that the opening of Japan came from America. It would have come in time from the natural growth of the commerce of the world, but the immediate occasion was the settlement of California. The first emigration, consequent on the discovery of gold, was in 1849; the treaty with Japan in 1854. As soon as there sprang up an American Empire on our Western coast, there sprang up also an American commerce on the Pacific. Up to that time, except the whalers from New Bedford that went round Cape Horn, to cast their harpoons in the North Pacific, or an occasional vessel to the Sandwich Islands, or that brought a cargo of tea from China, there were few American ships in the Pacific. But now it was ploughed by fleets of ships, and by great lines of steamers. The Western coast of America faced the Eastern coast of Asia, and there must be commerce between them. Japan lay in the path to China, and it was inevitable that there must be peaceful intercourse, or there would be armed collision. The time had come when the policy of rigid exclusion could not be permitted any longer. Of course Japan had the right which belongs to any independent power, to regulate its commerce with foreign nations. But there were certain rights which belonged to all nations, and which might be claimed in the interest of humanity. If an American ship, in crossing the Pacific on its way to China, were shipwrecked on the shores of Japan, the sailors who escaped the perils of the sea had the right to food and shelter – not to be regarded as trespassers or held as prisoners. Yet there had been instances in which such crews had been treated as captives, and shut up in prison. In one instance they were exhibited in cages. If they had fallen among Barbary pirates, they could not have been treated with greater severity. This state of things must come to an end; and in gently forcing the issue, our government led the way. As English ships had broken down the wall of China, so did an American fleet open the door of Japan, simply by an attitude of firmness and justice; by demanding nothing but what was right, and supporting it by an imposing display of force. Thus Japan was opened to the commerce of America, and through it of the world, without shedding a drop of blood.

The result has been almost beyond belief. A quarter of a century ago no foreign ship could anchor in these waters. And now here, in sight of the spot where lay the fleet of Commodore Perry, I see a harbor full of foreign ships. It struck me strangely, as I sat at our windows in the Grand Hotel, and looked out upon the tranquil bay. There lay the Tennessee, not with guns run out and matches lighted, but in her peaceful dress, with flags flying, not only from her mast-head, but from all her yards and rigging. There were also several English ships of war, with Admiral Ryder in command, from whose flag-ship, as from the Tennessee, we heard the morning and evening gun, and the bands playing. The scene was most beautiful by moonlight, when the ships lay motionless, and the tall masts cast their shadows on the water, and all was silent, as in so many sleeping camps, save the bells which struck the hours, and marked the successive watches all night long. It seemed as if the angel of peace rested on the moonlit waters, and that nations would not learn war any more.

The barrier once broken down, foreign commerce began to enter the waters of Japan. American ships appeared at the open ports. As if to give them welcome, lighthouses were built at exposed points on the coast, so that they might approach without danger. A foreign settlement sprung up at Yokohama. By and by young men went abroad to see the world, or to be educated in Europe or America, and came back with reports of the wealth and power of foreign nations. Soon a spirit of imitation took possession of Young Japan. These students affected even the fashions of foreign countries, and appeared in the streets of Yedo in coat and pantaloons, instead of the old Japanese dress; and ate no longer with chopsticks, but with knives and forks. Thus manners and customs changed, to be followed by a change in laws and in the government itself. Till now Japan had had a double-headed government, with two sovereigns and two capitals. But now there was a revolution in the country, the Tycoon was overthrown, and the Mikado, laying aside his seclusion and his invisibility, came from Kioto to Yedo, and assumed the temporal power, and showed himself to his people. The feudal system was abolished, and the proud daimios – who, with their clans of armed retainers, the samourai, or two-sworded men, were independent princes – were stripped of their estates, which sometimes were as large as German principalities, and forced to disband their retainers, and reduced to the place of pensioners of the government. The army and navy were reconstructed on European models. Instead of the old Japanese war-junks, well-armed frigates were seen in the Bay of Yedo – a force which has enabled Japan to take a very decided tone in dealing with China, in the matter of the island of Formosa; and made its power respected along the coast of Eastern Asia. We saw an embassy from Corea passing through the streets of Yokohama, on its way to Yedo, to pay homage to the Mikado, and enter into peaceful relations with Japan. A new postal system has been introduced, modelled on our own. In Yokohama one sees over a large building the sign "The Japanese Imperial Post-Office," and the postman goes his rounds, delivering his letters and papers as in England and America. There is no opposition to the construction of railroads, as in China. Steamers ply around the coast and through the Inland Sea; and telegraphs extend from one end of the Empire to the other; and crossing the sea, connect Japan with the coast of Asia, and with all parts of the world. Better than all, the government has adopted a general system of national education, at the head of which is our own Prof. Murray; it has established schools and colleges, and introduced teachers from Europe and America. In Yedo I was taken by Prof. McCartee to see a large and noble institution for the education of girls, established under the patronage of the Empress. These are signs of progress that cannot be paralleled in any other nation in the world.

With such an advance in less than one generation, what may we not hope in the generation to come? In her efforts at progress, Japan deserves the sympathy and support of the whole civilized world. Having responded to the demand for commercial intercourse, she has a just claim to be placed on the footing of the most favored nations. Especially is she entitled to expect friendship from our country. As it fell to America to be the instrument of opening Japan, it ought to be our pride to show her that the new path into which we led her, is a path of peace and prosperity. Japan is our nearest neighbor on the west, as Ireland is on the east; and among nations, as among individuals, neighbors ought to be friends. It seemed a good token that the American Union Church in Yokohama should stand on the very spot where Commodore Perry made his treaty with Japan – the beginning, let us hope, of immeasurable good to both nations. As India is a part of the British Empire, and may look to England to secure for her the benefits of modern civilization, so the duty of stretching out a hand across the seas to Japan, may fairly be laid on the American church and the American people.

Our visit was coming to an end. A day or two we spent in the shops, buying photographs and bronzes, and in paying farewell visits to the missionaries, who had shown us so much kindness. The "parting cup" of tea we took at Dr. Hepburn's, and from his windows had a full view of Fusiyama, that looked out upon us once more in all his glory. We were to embark that evening, to sail at daylight. Mr. John Ballagh and several ladies of "The Home," who had made us welcome in their pleasant circle, "accompanied us to the ship." We had a long row across the bay just as the moon was rising, covering the waters with silver, and making the great ships look like mighty shadows as they stood up against the sky. "On such a night" we took our farewell of Asia.

The next morning very early we were sailing down the bay of Yedo, and were soon out on the Pacific. But the coast remained long in sight, and we sat on deck watching the receding shores of a country which in three weeks had become so familiar and so dear; and when at last it sunk beneath the waters, we left our "benediction" on that beautiful island set in the Northern Seas.

We did not steer straight for San Francisco, although it is in nearly the same latitude as Yokohama, but turned north, following what navigators call a Great Circle, on the principle that as they get high up on the globe, the degrees of longitude are shorter, and thus they can "cut across" at the high latitudes. "It is nearer to go around the hill than to go over it." We took a prodigious sweep, following the Kuroshiwo, or Black Current, the Gulf Stream of the Pacific, which flows up the coast of Asia, and down the coast of America. We bore away to the north till we were off the coast of Kamschatka, and within a day's sail of Petropaulovski, before we turned East. Our ship was "The Oceanic," of the famous White Star line, which, if not so magnificent as "The City of Peking," was quite as swift a sailer, cleaving the waters like a sea-bird. In truth, the albatrosses that came about the ship for days from the Aleutian Islands, now soaring in air, and now skimming the waters, did not float along more easily or more gracefully.

As we crossed the 180th degree of longitude, just half the way around the world from the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, we "gained a day," or rather, recovered one that we had lost. As we had started eastward, we lost a few minutes each day, and had to set our watches every noon. We were constantly changing our meridian, so that no day ended where it began, and we never had a day of full twenty-four hours, but always a few minutes, like sands, had crumbled away. By the time we reached England, five hours had thus dropped into the sea; and when we had compassed the globe, we had parted, inch by inch, moment by moment, with a whole day. It seemed as if this were so much blotted out from the sum of our being – gone in the vast and wandering air – lost in the eternities, from which nothing is ever recovered. But these lost moments and hours were all gathered up in the chambers of the East, and now in mid-ocean, one morning brought us a day not in the calendar, to be added to the full year. Two days bore the same date, the 18th of June, and as this fell on a Sunday, two holy days came together – one the Sabbath of Asia, the other of America. It seemed fit that this added day should be a sacred one, for it was something taken, as it were, from another portion of time to be added to our lives – a day which came to us fresh from its ocean baptism, with not a tear of sorrow or a thought of sin to stain its purity; and we kept a double Sabbath in the midst of the sea.

Seventeen days on the Pacific, with nothing to break the boundless monotony! In all that breadth of ocean which separates Asia and America, we saw not a single sail on the horizon; and no land, not even an island, till we came in sight of those shores which are dearer to us than any other in all the round world.