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two miles inland between sloping hills which spring from the sea with a bold, rocky escarpment, and then roll gently back, rising to an altitude of a thousand feet or so; and these are overlooked by still more lofty giants, -every mountain-side covered with all that can gladden a landscape, and down every ravine gladsome streams rushing on to the sea. Here a village, there a quaint bark anchored in sandy cove; now an official abode with square-cut terrace and upright fence, so properly stiff, starched, and queer, you felt sure you had only to knock and that one of the Barnacles of society would appear; then, nestling in the midst of green trees and flowery gardens, were the prettiest chalets seen out of Switzerland; children, with no clothes at all, rolling on the grass, or tumbling in and out of the water; whilst their respected parents, with but few habiliments to incommode them, gravely waved their fans, or sat gazing upon the newly arrived vessels. Oh! it was a goodly sight; but we were all in the mood to be pleased; and had the sky been less clear, the air less bracing, and the climate as bad as that of China, we should assuredly still have admired it.
In former days, a chain of guardboats used to extend across the gate of this Japanese paradise. One of our men-of-war, during the Russian war, nearly paddled over them; and we, too, it had been determined, were not to be stopped by them. The Japanese officers of the present day are far wiser in their generation than those who, when the frigate of Captain Sir Israel Pellew forced her way into the harbour during the French war, disembowelled themselves rather than survive the disgrace of such an act. We found all the boats carefully removed and made fast in by the shore. One officer, more anxious than the rest to do his duty, or, Asiatic like, desirous of ascertaining to what lengths he might go, stood up in his boat as we came abreast of him, and mildly gesticulated with his fan (the everlasting emblem of office in Japan) for us to go back again! We would fain not have seen it; but of course the officious signalman immediately reported that
there was a Japanese officer waving. A spy-glass was brought steadily to bear on him; the wretch was about fifty yards off; the action of the fan became at once less violent, then irregular, as if the waver of the fan was in a dilemma; then a spasmodic jerk; the glass was kept steadily on the wretch (we feared lest the ambassador should see him and cry halt !)
there was a pause, another flutter -hurrah! he shut up his fan, and retired under his awning, beaten. He had only to perform Haki-kari or disembowelment, and we might proceed, giving the officious signalman orders not to make nonsensical reports of every Japanese who chose to fan himself!
We soon anchored off Nangasaki, close to a gallant bark from Holland
just such a ship as should always sail from stout Amsterdam; none of your fly-away newfangled vessels, lean as a greyhound, and quite as fast-but full, round, and frau-likeexactly the craft, in short, that a vessel rejoicing in the name of the Zeevaart ought to be. Beside her rode gaily, at her anchors—which, with every disposition to be gallant to ships and ladies, we cannot say the Zeevaart did-a Japanese screw schooner, under the simple imperial flag, a red ball on a white ground. She had been purchased from the Dutch, for some fabulous sum in copper bars, unless rumour belied the honest burghers of Decima; and all her officers and men were natives, from the engineer to the captain; and, from what we saw of their exercise aloft, and what we heard from their Dutch naval instructors, our impression was very favourable to the prospect of the Japanese shortly being again the able and skilful seamen they were three centuries ago, when they used to navigate their frail native craft as far as the ports of Indostan.
An hour passed-no officials came near us. The native boats, before alluded to, had followed the ship, and now hung listlessly about her. The officers in them were evidently very inquisitive; but as we did not invite their approach, they still kept aloof. The Dutchmen on shore seemed equally shy. Some half-dozen
sailors, in red shirts, lolled about the landing-place of Decima; but Decima made no other sign of vitality, and smoke rose as steadily from the Dutch skipper's pipe as he leant over the rail of his argosy and peered at us, as it would have done in the sleepiest landscape in watery Holland. It suddenly struck us that Decima had gone to bed, and that here, as in Batavia, the community dine about noon, and after dinner all the Mynheers, Fraus, and Frauleins retire to rest, rising from their second sleep about four or five o'clock in the afternoon. We were, we soon ascertained, right in our suspicions; but an officer was remorselessly sent on shore, to stir up the sleeping burghers of Decima with the information of the arrival of his Excellency the British Ambassador.
There was soon a general flurry, for the Japanese appeared to have been waiting for their Dutch friends to awake, to inquire if we might be visited. Japanese officials, with pockets full of paper, pens, and ink, hurried off-jolly good-natured-looking fellows, always ready to laugh, and in appearance resembling more the Kanaka races of the South-Sea Islands than the Chinese we had left behind us. Their dress, in some respects, was Chinese, and their language sounding very like a composition of the discordancy of that most discordant of languages, and the soft liquid sounds of the Kanaka tongue. But how they interrogated us!-what was the ship's name, our name, the Ambassador's titles everybody's name and age-everybody's rank and business-what did we want-whether were we going-whence did we come-how many ships were coming —where was our Admiral? Indeed, a Russian customhouse agent, or a British census paper, could not have put more astounding questions, whether in number or nature, than did these Nangasaki reporters. We were as patient as naval officers, or angels, may usually be supposed to be under such circumstances;-answered all their questions-allowed them to see, touch, smell, and hear everything, except the British Ambassador, who was in his cabin; and then dismissed them with a glass of sherry and a
biscuit. The captain and first-lieutenant had hardly congratulated themselves that, at any rate, that portion of the pleasure of visiting Japan was over, when another boatful of reporters arrived, tumbled up the ladder,were very well-behaved, but asked exactly the same questions, and went exactly through the same farce as the first party had done. They were, we learnt, duplicate reporters, whose statements served to check and correct those of the first set of inquirers. Directly they left us, a two-sworded official arrived-two swords in Japan, like two epaulettes in Europe, indicate an officer of some standing. He introduced himself through a Japanese interpreter, who spoke English remarkably well, as "a chief officer," who had an official communication to make. Would he sit down-would he be pleased to unbosom himself-could he not see the ambassador? Impossible! What! "a chief officer" communicate with an ambassador! We were truly horrified. The chief officer must be simply insane; did he couple the representative of the majesty of Great Britain with some superintendent of trade? The chief officer apologised; he was very properly shocked at the proposition that he had made; he saw his error, and, what was more to our purpose, the Ambassador assumed a size and importance in his eyes which it would have been difficult to have realised. The "chief officer" then put his questions-Did Lord Elgin intend to call upon the Governor of Nangasaki? No; he had not time to do so. Did he expect the Governor to wait upon him? The Governor could please himself-the Ambassador would receive him if he came. If the Lieutenant-Governor called on Lord Elgin, would his Excellency receive him? Yes. This was all the chief officer had to say; his mission was a special one; he begged to wish us good-morning, merely adding that the Governor of Nangasaki hoped the Ambassador would kindly accept a small present which would shortly be sent. The present arrived shortly afterwards-a stout cob-built pig of three hundredweight; and such a quantity of pumpkins!
It looked at first very like a joke; indeed, the internal music of an animal never seen alive on board a man-of-war, added to the comicality of the affair; but the fact is, that the Japanese are a sober-minded, thrifty people, and nothing evinces it better than the following interesting custom, followed in this as in all other cases: Whenever a Japanese makes a present, whatever the rank of the parties or the value of the gift may be, the donor encloses in an envelope, bearing his name and compliments, a small piece of dried salt fish, emblematical of the poverty of their ancestors, and of the thrift whereby their present affluence has been attained; and this is often wrapped in a piece of paper, on which is written the following favourite sentence, "Happy those who never depart from the wisdom of their ancestors," a Confucian as well as protectionist doctrine, the widespread faith in which, in this remote part of the world, may be possibly confirmatory and consolatory to some at home who will not believe that free trade and repeal of cornlaws can be beneficial to their country. After this little episode of pig, pumpkin, and salt-fish, the Dutch gentlemen belonging to the factory turned up. The secretary of the Dutch superintendent of trade came, accompanied by two naval officers, instructors lent by the government of Holland, to teach the Japanese the arts of navigation, gunnery, and nautical science generally. The former had to explain that the superintendent, Mr Donker Curtius, was absent on public business, and the latter told us that their senior officer or commandant was sick; but they had a good deal of interesting information to give, which was to the following effect-The superintendent of the factory, Mr Donker Curtius, had been in Jeddo during the past six months, as well as Mr Harris, the American consul-general from Simoda, a port on the opposite coast of Japan. Alarmed by the rumours of the allied operations against China, the Japanese government was at first very fair spoken upon the subjects of granting a treaty to Holland and America, opening her
commerce and ports to them, admitting free intercourse with the people, and practising religious toleration. At one time the 14th April had been agreed upon as the day for the final signature of a treaty; then it was postponed; then rumours were spread of the priesthood, the spiritual emperor, and certain independent nobles, having opposed insurmountable obstacles to any concession. The Tai-koon, or Temporal Emperor, as well as the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, the Prince of Bitsu, appeared well aware of the necessity for some arrangement being made to pacify the Europeans; but they doubtless delayed as long as they could, to see the issue of our efforts to open up China before they yielded themselves; and at last, although always most kindly treated and generously lodged, Mr Curtius and Mr Harris found it necessary to return to their respective posts, as empty-handed as they went. Mr Harris, having but a short distance to go, was doubtless by this time in Simoda, but Mr Donker Curtius, when last heard of, was still on the road, and could not arrive for a week or so. This news, at the first glance, looked unpromising; but there was this one point very certain, that, if the Japanese intended to be guided as to their future policy by the concessions England and France should wring from China, we could show that the Court of Pekin had yielded all, and more than was expected from them; and they, at any rate, were saved the humiliation of being the first to concede the point of the exclusion of strangers, &c. It seemed likely that the Americans would turn our operations to account, by working on the fears of the Japanese; for the United States steamer Powhattan, bearing the flag of Flag-officer Tattnal, had gone direct from the Gulf of Pecheli to Nangasaki, bearing the news of our success, and spreading tales of our numbers and intentions, which caused no small alarm amongst a people who for twelve months had been kept in a state of excitement by rumours of our doings in their neighbourhood. (To be continued.)
WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT-PART XIX.
BY PISISTRATUS CAXTON.
[The Author reserves the Right of Translation.]
Guy Darrell's views in the invitation to Waife.
LIONEL had but inadequately represented, for he could but imperfectly comprehend, the profound impression made upon Guy Darrell by George Morley's disclosures. Himself so capable of self-sacrifice, Darrell was the man above all others to regard with an admiring reverence, which partook of awe, a self-immolation that seemed almost above humanity—to him who set so lofty an estimate on good name and fair repute. He had not only willingly permitted, but even urged Lionel to repair to Waife, and persuade the old man to come to Fawley. With Waife he was prepared to enter into the full discussion of Sophy's alleged parentage. But apart even from considerations that touched a cause of perplexity which disquieted himself, Darrell was eager to see and to show homage to the sufferer, in whom he recognised a hero's dignity. And if he had sent by Lionel no letter from himself to Waife, it was only because, in the exquisite delicacy of feeling that belonged to him when his best emotions were aroused, he felt it just that the whole merit, and the whole delight of reparation to the wrongs of William Losely, should, without direct interposition of his own, be left exclusively to Charles Haughton's son. Thus far it will be acknowledged that Guy Darrell was not one of those men who, once warmed to magnanimous impulse, are cooled by a thrifty prudence when action grows out of the impulse. Guy Darrell could not be generous by drachm and scruple. Not apt to say, "I apologise,"-slow to say, "I repent; very-veryvery slow indeed to say, "I forgive;" yet let him once say, "I repent,"
"I apologise," or "I forgive," and it was said with his whole heart and soul.
But it must not be supposed that, in authorising Lionel to undertake the embassy to Waife, or in the anticipation of what might pass between Waife and himself should the former consent to revisit the old house from which he had been so scornfully driven, Darrell had altered, or dreamed of altering, one iota of his resolves against an union between Lionel and Sophy. True, Lionel had induced him to say, "Could it be indisputably proved that no drop of Jasper Losley's blood were in this girl's veins-that she were the lawful child of honest parents, however humble-my right to stand between her and yourself would cease." But a lawyer's experience is less credulous than a lover's hope. And to Darrell's judgment it was wholly improbable that any honest parents, however humble, should have yielded their child to a knave like Jasper, while it was so probable that his own persuasion was well founded, and that she was Jasper's daughter, though not Matilda's.
The winter evening had closed. George and Darrell were conversing in the library; the theme, of course, was Waife; and Darrell listened with vivid interest to George's graphic accounts of the old man's gentle playful humour-with its vague desultory under-currents of poetic fancy or subtle wisdom. But when George turned to speak of Sophy's endearing, lovely nature, and, though cautiously, to intimate an appeal on her behalf to Darrell's sense of duty, or susceptibility to kindly emotions, the proud man's brow became knit, and
his stately air evinced displeasure. Fortunately, just at a moment when farther words might have led to a permanent coldness between men so
disposed to esteem each other, they heard the sound of wheels on the frosty ground-the shrill bell at the porch-door.
The vagabond received in the manor-house at Fawley.
Very lamely, very feebly, declining Lionel's arm, but leaning heavily on his crutch-stick, Waife crossed the threshold of the manor-house. George sprang forward to welcome him. The old man looked on the preacher's face with a kind of wandering uncertainty in his eye, and George saw that his cheek was very much flushed. He limped on through the hall, still leaning on his staff, George and Lionel at either side. A pace or two, and there stood Darrell! Did he, the host, not spring forward to offer an arm, to extend an hand? No, such greeting in Darrell would have been but vulgar courtesy. As the old man's eye rested on him, the superb gentleman bowed low-bowed as we bow to kings!
They entered the library. Darrell made a sign to George and Lionel. They understood the sign, and left visitor and host alone.
Lionel drew George into the quaint old dining-hall. "I am very uneasy about our dear friend," he said, in agitated accents. "I fear that I have had too little consideration for his years and his sensitive nature, and that, what with the excitement of the conversation that passed between us, and the fatigue of the journey, his nerves have broken down. We were not half-way on the road, and as we had the railway carriage to ourselves, I was talking to him with imprudent earnestness, when he began to tremble all over, and went into an hysterical paroxysm of mingled tears and laughter. I wished to stop at the next station, but he was not long recovering, and insisted on coming on. Still, as we approached Fawley, after muttering to himself, as far as I could catch his words, incoherently, he sank into a heavy state of lethargy or stupor, resting his head on
my shoulder. It was with difficulty I roused him when he entered the park."
"Poor old man," said George feelingly; "no doubt the quick succession of emotions through which he has lately passed has overcome him for the time. But the worst is now past. His interview with Darrell must cheer his heart and soothe his spirits; and that interview over, we must give him all repose and nursing. But tell me what passed between you-if he was very indignant that I could not suffer men like you and my uncle Alban, and Guy Darrell, to believe him a picklock and a thief."
Lionel began his narrative, but had not proceeded far in it before Darrell's voice was heard shouting loud and the library bell rang violently.
They hurried into the library, and Lionel's fears were verified. Waife was in strong convulsions; and as these gradually ceased, and he rested without struggle, half on the floor, half in Darrell's arms, he was evidently unconscious of all around him. His eye was open, but fixed in a glassy stare. The servants thronged into the room; one was despatched instantly to summon the nearest medical practitioner. 'Help meGeorge-Lionel," said Darrell, "to bear him up-stairs. Mills, light us." When they reached the landing-place, Mills asked, "Which room, sir?"
Darrell hesitated an instant, then his grey eye lit into its dark fire. "My father's room-he shall rest on my father's bed."
When the surgeon arrived, he declared Waife to be in imminent danger-pressure on the brain. He prescribed prompt and vigorous remedies, which had indeed before the surgeon's arrival suggested them