possible (thought and said some sanguine individuals) that we might see. The idea was scoffed at by our Dutch friends: it was true that there was salt water, that the Gulf of Yedo washed the beach close up to the capital; but then there were banks and shallows and dangers which rendered it impossible for great ships to approach the sacred city. Yet the sea was there, and where there was salt water, there was hope for our handy ships. To wish to be off again from so sweet a place as Nangasaki, seems unreasonable and restless. Looking as we did that last beautiful evening on all the loveliness around us, the rebuke at first seemed well merited. The bay by day is beautiful, but give me Nangasaki by moonlight, when the heat is passing away, and the cool breezes of night invigorate the frame and stipple the polished surface of the water, which reflects the starry beauty of the blue vault overhead, except where the dark shadows of native and foreign craft are thrown athwart it. The delicate play of the moonlight upon town, village, and upland; the phosphorescent wake of the numerous boats passing and repassing; the twinkling lights and the drowsy hum of a large city during the early hours of night-all formed a picture which might tempt the mind to rest here content. And

as we stood in that calm moonlight, we talked of wild scenes that had been enacted here. We hear of a goodly Spanish ship that sailed in long ago through that seaward portal, now shrouded by the dark gloom of the overhanging cliff. She is a tall ship of three decks, a yearly trader from the Philippines-a royal vessel combining the war-ship and merchantman. Her swelling canvass furled, she swings to her anchors, and flaunts from many a mast quaint colours and pennons. Culverins and brass pieces peer out of her ports; and the golden ensign, with its broad bloody stripes, waves proudly over her stern. On shore there is much excitement. Twelve months previously, the Japanese had

learnt that a vessel of their country had been basely set upon off the Philippines by Spaniards, and the vessel and crew sunk in the depths of the sea, and the imperial government had forbidden Spaniards under pain of death to visit Japan. This galleon had come in contempt of the mandate, and, though warned of the horrors that would ensue, the Spaniard would not or could not sail. The court issues a mandate, and the Spaniard must suffer at any cost the penalty of his insolence. We may fancy the muster of row - boats,-the Prince of Arima arranging his devoted retainers, promising high reward to the valiant, short shrift to the craven. We can fancy the scornful feelings of the high-couraged Don in his lofty bark for the yelping wolves around him, naked half-armed infidels, who come against the steel-clad conquerors of half the world! Then the shout of defiance, and the wild music of the war-shell, as each party rushed on. Wolves never went better at a sure quarry than the Japanese at the huge ship. In spite of resistance, they cling to her tall sides, scale them, reach the upper deck, and throw themselves, regardless of life, upon the astonished Spaniards. When too late, the Don sees he has underrated his foe. He determines to resort to a desperate expedient of those times. The retreat sounds, all the Spaniards rush below to the lower deck, and the upper deck is blown up, and with a yell of victory on their lips the Japanese are hurled into the water scorched and burnt.

Alas for the Spaniard! the wind is right adverse to his escape, and every minute adds hundreds to the host pouring down to the attack. There is nothing for it but a death worthy of his race. Again the assault, again numbers carry the day, and the resolute Spaniards retire to the third deck, and again blow up the victors above them. Thrice, says the Japanese chronicle quoted by worthy Master Kampfer, was this desperate mode of resistance resorted

to, until defenders, assailants, and galleon sunk in the bloody waters. Although the unfortunate infringers of the imperial edict had perished to a man, the native historian acknowledges that the triumph of Japanese justice had been won only by the sacrifice of three thousand of her sons! Such was one episode in the history of Nangasaki. Under the seductive appearances of this Japanese Capua are there still such fierce and bloody feelings, which a single spark may rouse into action?

In naval life, they who would be doing must necessarily be restless, and too true is it that

"To have done,

Is to hang, like rusty armour, in monumental mockery."

No sooner does a sailor anchor in quiet haven than he would fain be pushing to sea; no sooner there, than, buffeted by wind and sea, he desires another port. Some call this restlessness, discontent, and it has been declared to be

"A fever at the core, Fatal to him who bears, to all that ever bore."

And while we do not agree with this, we say that if we sailors do not always know what is best for us, we do not differ in this respect from the rest of mankind-the tale of the three wishes and the famous black-pudding having been invented long since for the reproof upon that point of landsmen, no doubt. And as the night is fine, and we do not sail before noon to-morrow, let me tell you, as a pendant to that same story, the nautical legend on the subject of constantly wishing for what we have not got, and not knowing what we want. Down amongst those South Sea isles which fairies delight to visit, and sailors love to cruise in, H.M. frigate

had just sailed from some sweet spot, where the songs were as sweet as those of Tobonai. There had been weeping Neuhas on the shore, and there was many a sad Torquil on board that day. No one, except the restless captain, rejoiced in the sparkling blue Pacific and rattling trade-wind which filled the frigate's canvass, and sped her dancing over the sea.

Tom Hardy sat on the fore-bitts,

and said, "There was no peace whatsomedever aboard a ship; and it was precious hard, just as a poor fellow had got exactly what he wanted, that the adjective ship got under-weigh, to pitch her adjective forecastle into a chopping head-sea." "Ah! you never knows what you really want," said his sage shipmate; "and if so be you could get what you wants just for the asking, you would not know what to ask for." Tom used most emphatic language, and wished himself in very uncomfortable places if ever he should growl again, provided he could have three or four wishes fulfilled. Hardly had the words passed Tom's lips when a beautiful fairy stood before him.

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Speak up, Tom Hardy," said

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she; say what you want to make you a contented captain of the fo'castle. I'll give you four wishes, provided they are for as many different things." You might think Tom would be for a moment startled; but a beautiful lady, with a profusion of hair and very little clothing, was not quite the thing to frighten him. Thank ye, marm," said Tom, touching his cap; "I'm all ready, and much obleeged to yer." "Then fire away!" said the fairy. "First and foremost," said Tom, "I wants plenty of grog." "That you shall have,' replied the fairy, smiling; "real Jamaica pine-apple flavour-as much as you can swim iu." You see the fairy was accustomed to sailors. "Then," proceeded Tom, rubbing his hands, "let us have heaps of 'baccybird's-eye and cavendish mixed." "All right, Tom!" said the lady; "heaps of 'baccy, bird's-eye and cavendish mixed, you shall have." By Jove, you are a brick!" says Tom; "you are about the best friend I ever had. Lookye here, my beauty!" says he, getting up as if he was going to shake hands with the fairy. Hands off, Mr Tom!" exclaimed she; go on wishing. You are only half-way through your bargain." "Well," says Tom, "what I next wantsbegging your parding, seeing you're a lady is plenty of pretty girls when I goes ashore." "Very well!" replied the fairy, laughing like anything, "you shall have them too;

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and I'll throw some fiddlers into the bargain." Tom was delighted. "By the Lord Harry!" he said, "I'm happy now. I say, chum ! how about not knowing what was good for me? Here's grog galore, heaps of 'baccy, and lots of sweethearts. I'm content." "But come, come, Tom," urged the fairy;" fulfil your part of the contract. You must wish once more: be quick!" "Oh, bother it!" growled out Tom Hardy; "must I really?" Yes; come, be quick!" she replied. "Well, then," said he, Well, then," said he, give us more grog. "Your chum was in the right," said the fairy; "you don't know what you want. You ask for more grog, when I have already promised you enough to swim in; and you have forgotten to ask to be put ashore from the frigate. You are a good-for-nothing old growl, and so you will remain to the end of your days." With that she disappeared; and it is true enough Tom Hardy is now as big an old growl as ever chewed quid on a forecastle, though he firmly believes, if that fairy would only give him another chance, he would know what to ask for. The afternoon of August 5th, 1858, saw the good ship steaming past the different headlands, islands, and batteries as we quitted Nangasaki: the sea was smooth, and played upon by just enough wind to give animation to great numbers of native craft. Every creek, channel, and bay was studded with vessels of all sizesfrom those of a hundred and fifty tons burthen to petty fishing-boats -so that though the government has interdicted foreign commercial intercourse, there must be a vast coasting trade and a large seafaring population. Brighter afternoon never shone, and the scene was one of unsurpassed beauty and interest as we bowled away southward to round the extreme point of the Japanese group, and so enter the sea which washes its eastern seaboard. Between the deeply indented coasts of the Morea and its off-lying islands and this portion of Japan, there is much resemblance; but on close approach Japan shows signs of a high order of civilisation, energy, industry, and wealth, which modern Greece decidedly does not exhibit, whatever it did in olden days.

Singular as is the construction of a Chinese junk, and original as are the various appliances to meet the requirements of her occupation as a traverser of stormy seas, the Japanese vessels of large size are still more curious. We saw many fully one hundred and twenty tons burthen. Their length was about a hundred feet, the extreme beam fully a fourth of the length, and far aft as in the "America" yacht; the depth of the hold was not great, and the form of that portion of the vessel that was immersed was very fine, and calculated for great speed. The bow was long, and the gunwale was not high, but it curved gently up into a lofty stem very like that of the Roman galley, and finished, like it, with an crnamental beak-head, serving to secure the forestay of the solitary mast. The mast was a ponderous mass of pieces of fir, glued, pegged, and hooped together in the same way as those for our large ships are built ; the height from deck to truck was full fifty feet, and the head of the mast had a curve in it, to serve better as a derrick in supporting the heavy yard: the halliards going in one direction aft, and the stay in the other forward, seemed the principal supports of this ponderous spar, but there were backstays and shrouds in some cases. The yard was a rough clumsy spar slung amidship, the sail an oblong mass of cotton cloths, which are not sewn, but laced vertically to each other in such a manner that daylight may be seen between the cloths of which the sail is composed; and when it is desirable to reef, a cloth is unlaced, and the sail reduced in a vertical direction-not horizontally, as seamen of every other part of the world do, including even those of China. This sail and mast are placed well abaft the centre of the vessel, and to tack or veer, the sheet and tack have merely to be reversed. When on a wind, the vessel's long bow and nose serve like a headsail to keep her from coming up into the wind's eye; and it is truly strange to see a sail hanging in a perfect bag, and each cloth in it what seamen call bellying, like a yacht's balloon jib, yet that the vessel keeps a good wind, and makes great progress in smooth water. In the arrangement

of the stern and rudder they differ little from the Chinese, but the tiller is marvellously long, doubtless to save labour by increased leverage. The shores of the Japanese group afford great facilities for a coasting trade, from the abundance of harbours, and the shelter for vessels of small size which can cling to the shore. This is one reason that every Japanese vessel is so profusely furnished with anchors and cables. The former are of iron, and of grapnel shape, right serviceable-looking, and all the large vessels had from six to eight arranged on the fore-end. This circumstance gave us the first hint that Japan was anything but a smoothwater coast. These traders navigate the great inland sea known as the Suwo-nada, between the three great islands of Nipon-Sikok and Kiu-siu, and they likewise run up and down the west coast of Kiu-siu, and from Miaco to Yedo by way of the Strait of Kino. We saw none of them on the stormy east coast of Kiu-siu; indeed, in the weather we experienced off it on two occasions, no native vessels could have lived.

Towards sunset we saw on our larboard beam the entrance to the great bay in Kiu-siu, on which the ill-fated city of Simbarra stands. The place still exists at least it is marked in the latest chart-and history will preserve the name of a spot which was the last stronghold of native Christianity in Japan, and which saw, as Roman Catholic writers assert, the destruction of thirty thousand converts to their faith. It was at Simbarra, too, over the common grave of its inhabitants, that the famous inscription was erected, warning the natives, that to prefer to their ancient faith that of the Christians, would be to draw down upon themselves the punishment due to traitors to their emperor and their country. One sentence ran thus: "So long as the sun shall warm the earth, let no Christian be so bold as to come to Japan; and let all know that the King of Spain himself, or the Chris

tian's God (query, the Pope ?), if he violate this command, shall pay for it with his head.”

Before night closed in, the lofty inland heights in the centre of southern Kiu-siu rose sharp and clear against the sky, and throughout the first watch we saw the loom of these mountains, known to ancient mariners under the not euphonious title of the highlands of Bungo! A freshening breeze sped us on, and islands and rocks were rapidly passed as we hurried to reach the channel (called after the navigator Vancouver), which separates Kiu-siu from the long string of dependent isles known as the Linschoten and Loo-choo groups. There was a threatening twinkle about the stars, which would have betokened a hard north-easter upon our own shores; and as, in spite of a difference of twenty degrees of latitude between England and Japan, there was reason to believe the climates were much alike, we made preparations to face the heavy gale and sea which would already be lashing the coast to the eastward of Cape Satanomi-saki. The squadron had parted company, but we expected we should all meet again at the port of Simoda, our next rendezvous. Waiting for one another was not to be thought of where expedition was so necessary. Lord Elgin intended to finish off his work in Japan, and return to Shanghai in time to meet the Imperial Commissioners from Pekin. As we are rounding the coast to enter the Straits of Vancouver from right before the breeze to a taut bowline, then, furling sails, sending down top-gallant yards and masts, and by the aid of steam power facing the gale-we may, the better to understand the country we are writing of, tell in a condensed form some of the most striking passages of the history of its intercourse with foreign nations. The basis of the narrative is taken from Purchas, Marco Polo, Kampfer, Siebold, and portions of a Chinese work entitled Ân Illustrated Notice of Countries beyond the Sea,*

translated by Thomas Wade, Esq., Chinese Secretary to the British Embassy, to whom I am indebted

not only for its perusal, but also for some most able papers published some years since.

Japan, or, as the natives pronounce it, Ni-pon, consists of three large islands, Ni-pon, Sikok, and Jesso, and a host of smaller ones, extending from latitude 29° north to latitude 45° north. Ni-pon, which gives its name to the empire, and is the abode of the court, was doubtless the centre from which its present civilisation emanated. It appears that the whole group was inhabited long prior to the commencement of its authentic records. Whether first colonised by refugees from the mainlands of China and the Corea, or by a people who came direct from Babel by a northabout route, as old Kampfer maintains, can be of little importance. Travellers, like ourselves, may rejoice that, if it was the confusion of tongues which led to the peopling of Japan, the wanderers thither carried with them a full, rich, and pleasant-sounding language, far superior to the wretched discordance of their neighbours in China.

It will be going back far enough into the ancient history of Ni-pon to say, that 650 years B.C., when Rome was still in its long-clothes, a hero, known as the Divine Warrior, invaded and conquered it from the West. Simmoo, for so he is named, firmly established a dynasty which has flourished to the present day, in a line of 120 successive male and female monarchs. Of their reigns, far better records exist than the oldest European empire can boast. The early monarchs combined in their person the double offices of highpriest and generalissimo. Chinese historians, with their usual modesty, assert that Jih-pun, as they call Japan, was voluntarily tributary to the Celestial emperor; but it is doubtful whether the imperial air of "subjugation perfected" ever sounded in the ears of Japanese tribute-bearers, unless in the same surreptitious manner as it was once played over a British ambassador in more modern days.

Marco Polo was the first who brought Japan to European ken under the name of Zipangu, and he was at the Chinese capital in 1278, just after Kublai-Khan with his Mongol hordes had overrun China. Envoys had been sent, we are told, to speak plainly to the Emperor of Japan. "Lest," says Kublai-Khan, "that the true state of things be not as yet known and understood in your land, therefore I send to acquaint you with my views. Already philosophers desire to see all mankind one family: I am determined to carry out this principle, even though I should be obliged to do so by force of arms: it is now the business of the King of Ni-pon to decide what course is most agreeable to him." The Mikado, or Ni-pon king, did not enter at all into the philosophical views of his powerful neighbour, and behaved very unlike a tributary monarch. He was assisted in the management of secular affairs by a Zia-goon, whose office had become hereditary, as a sort of assistant-emperor; and while the Mikado zealously performed his part of praying for the success of his armies, the Zia-goon set a valiant example to the people, who victoriously repelled Kublai-Khan's invading forces. But henceforth the Zia-goon retained the increased powers with which he had been intrusted, and the spiritual and temporal emperors became joint authorities. No sooner were the Chinese and Mongols driven off, than the Japanese retaliated by ranging in their barks as pirates or buccaneers up the coast from Swa-tow to the Shan-tung promontory. In 1350 we find Chinese records of extraordinary levies and defences to meet the marauders, and expel them from different points in their possession. A century later, the Chinese, with their usual patient endurance of miscry, were still suffering from these freebooters. They are described by writers of 1459* as a fierce people, naturally