We were amused by the anxiety of the hotel people that we should close our shutters at night, a course repugnant to our feelings, as we desired to breathe fresh air even while sleeping; but the good people are very much afraid of thieves entering by any insecure or unfastened shutter, owing to the disagreeable practice these worthies have of resorting to the use of the sword if disturbed at their work. The hotel-keeper, of course, did not say this—which would have been too true-but tried to frighten us with stories of "tengu," a sort of vampire that resides in woods, and has the bad taste to make no distinction between the blood of foreigners and that of the native victims to his greed. As to our being upstairs, that confers no safety at all in a country where "bakémono," with necks that can be elongated to any extent, may be met with at any corner, though they are generally supposed to live at the bottom of a well, so that one seldom sees exactly what kind of a body it is that nourishes such a wonderfully long gullet, or is nourished by means of that same. These are dreadful bogies, however, and capable of thrilling the nerves of old and young by their expected appearance. We passed the night uneasily by reason of having only Japanese pillows to rest our weary heads upon.

We reached Yokohama next day, after a wearisome ride along sandy roads, about half-past three, and I returned to Tōkiyō by the five o'clock train, exciting the pity of the populace as I limped along the platform. In fact, unless one keeps generally in pretty good walking trim, a week of severe exertion is too much for comfort and not enough for improvement. If I had gone

farther afield, I dare say I should have returned as I did in 1877, sound as a bell and gay as a lark. As it was, at this time I had to draw such satisfaction as was possible from the reflection that I had "been there," when I looked at Fuji, in the distance; at a cost of about three pounds ten in cash. It is an undoubted fact that in Japan you can travel all over the country for less money than you can live comfortably upon at any one spot; partly because you don't expect comfort when travelling, and partly because sleep, the traveller's chief recreation, is not chargeable by even the most accomplished extortionists. But there is a ghastly monotony about the proceeding that prevents one economizing for any great length of time in this way.

When at Miyanoshĭtá we had a sight of the papers, and learnt from them that the row of the Friday night before we started, of which I heard a rumour in Tōkiyō, was really a mutiny of the Artillery of the Guard, quartered at the Takebashi barracks, not far from the palace and the legations, that might have been a very serious matter for the occupants of those places. The men had a grievance in connection with the distribution of rewards for services during the preceding year, so they rose against their officers and killed a few of them, and tried to reach the palace "to present a petition," according to the usual formula. They were, however, met by a body of troops well in hand, and polished off in a workmanlike manner, some of the ringleaders justifying themselves by committing suicide in conventional fashion as soon as they found the game was up. Another regiment that would have joined the rising had

been marched out of Tōkiyō the day before under sufficient guard to ensure their good behaviour or prompt destruction; but many of the men had contrived to desert, and these were, I think, the gentry we noticed about the country on our first morning's journey.

The affair did not prevent the Mikado setting out on his tour for a couple of months in the north-western provinces, after formally acknowledging as heir presumptive a young cousin, son of Arisugawa-no-Miya, his uncle, who bears the title of Nihon Shinnō, or next of kin to the sovereign of Japan. This was in consequence of the death of the Mikado's only surviving child; but there has been other direct offspring since that time, of legitimate status according to the custom of Japan.

CHAPTER XI.

TÖKIYÖ (1878-9).

I HAD barely recovered from the fatigues of my pleasure excursion to Fujisan and the parts adjacent, and hunted the last Yoshida flea from my personal vicinity, when the even tenor of my professional existence, usually disturbed only by people who were not too busy with their work to find time to quarrel amongst themselves, was upset by the break of the season, which this year took a particularly disagreable form. The first welcome rains of September (not to be confounded by any means with the unwelcome and unseasonable rains of August) rather overstayed their usual period, and just as we thought the country nicely refreshed, with perhaps too free a downpour, we had a furious couple of days that produced destructive floods over nearly the whole of the land.

I was just awaking one morning, when the Shimbashi station-master sent over to my house a telegram from his colleague half-way to Yokohama, to the effect that water was passing over the rails at that point, and the ballast was being washed away-and the Shimbashi official wanted to know if he should despatch the first

train as usual. Of course I couldn't tell him not to do so, but I could go and see what was the actual state of things not a dozen miles away; so with a crust in my hand and a pocketful of cigars, I joined the driver just as he was starting with the train, and off we went into a very nasty looking morning. After passing the first two stations we came upon what was known as the "long straight," a piece of line extending across the low ground, from the bluffs of Ōmori nearly to the bank of the big river. Here we saw water before us, evidently a strong flow across the line, at a spot quite distinct from that mentioned in the telegram of that morning; but we pushed on till the road began to feel shaky, when I jumped down and walked along the line a little ahead of the train, soon perceiving that the water was rising and that the rush was so strong as to undermine the sleepers. So the train was backed, not a minute too soon, for there was an ugly lurch or two and a great expenditure of steam before the engine succeeded in pushing back its load to a slightly higher level, and as its going on was clearly out of the question, I sent the train back to Tōkiyō to await orders, and set the engine free for special service; and pushed on along the line. Progress on foot I soon found difficult, for the rails were well covered, and there was a strong cross flow; but by feeling with the point of my stick along the rail till it hit a chair, and then stepping on to the sleeper that of course was underneath it, I managed to progress step by step for about a mile, in something more than an hour, till some of the platelayers, who were busy stacking up the sleepers of the unfinished second line so as to