Transcriber’s Notes

Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations in hyphenation have been standardised but all other spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.

JAPANESE.

THE JAPAN EXPEDITION

JAPAN
AND
AROUND THE WORLD

AN ACCOUNT OF

THREE VISITS TO THE JAPANESE EMPIRE

WITH SKETCHES OF
MADEIRA, ST. HELENA, CAPE OF GOOD HOPE, MAURITIUS, CEYLON, SINGAPORE, CHINA, AND LOO-CHOO

By J. W. SPALDING
OF THE U. S. STEAM-FRIGATE MISSISSIPPI, FLAG SHIP OF THE EXPEDITION

WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS IN TINT

REDFIELD
34 BEEKMAN STREET, NEW YORK
1855.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855,
By J. S. REDFIELD,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the
Southern District of New York.

SAVAGE & M^cCREA, STEREOTYPERS,
13 Chambers Street, N. Y.

[PREFACE.]

The kindness and courtesy of that fine officer and estimable gentleman, Commander Sydney Smith Lee, in conferring upon the writer a position on the ship under his command, gave him the opportunity of seeing the “wonders of the world abroad,” in the Japan Expedition.

The following pages do not profess to be a history of Japan, of which there are already a number extant, but only embody observations of what came under notice, in a cruise of nearly two and a half years. They do not pretend to invariable accuracy, the writer having kept no journal, and having had to depend on scattered memoranda, jottings down to friends, and to memory. He has endeavored to tell the tale of his travels, as his eyes told it to him.

He has indulged in no adjectives about the ocean, because he believes that there has been more deliberate nonsense written upon it, than upon any other thing in all Nature.

Richmond, Va., 1855.

CONTENTS.

THE
JAPAN EXPEDITION.

CHAPTER I.

The cruel treatment which had long been practised by that singular and secluded people, the Japanese, toward American whalers who were thrown by the misfortune of shipwreck upon their coasts, the incentive of mercantile cupidity, and the urgency of personal ambition, induced the government of the United States, in 1852, to project an expedition to Japan, to obtain some assurance from the government of the country against a continuance or repetition of the inhospitality and cruelty inflicted upon our unfortunate citizens, and, if possible, to open the sources of trade. The East India squadron was accordingly augmented for this purpose, and Commodore Matthew Calbraith Perry was invested with the command, and charged with the performance of the duty.

After almost conjugating delay in all its moods and tenses, induced by the failure of the boilers of the unfortunate “Princeton,” and other causes, his flag-ship was ready for sea in November, 1852; and on the 24th of this month and year, with a desire to visit the hermetic empire, whetted by reading the Dutch historians, I found myself, as commander’s clerk, on board of her. At mid-day we had dropped, not below the “kirk or hill,” but below the hospital at Norfolk, and night found us ploughing deeply the ocean in the direction of Madeira; and before a very late hour the gleams from the Cape Henry lighthouse disappeared altogether.

The ship was the old steam-frigate “Mississippi,” which, as her name is a synonyme for the “father of waters,” may be termed the father of our war-steamers, having been the consort of the pioneer ship, the Missouri, destroyed by fire on her first cruise, under the rock of Gibraltar. She had been engaged unremittingly since she first slid from her ways. The power of her engines had pulled from a reef in the Gulf a large ship, and saved to the country the fine frigate Cumberland. The shot and shell from one of her sixty-eights, in the naval battery at Vera Cruz, had contributed to the downfall of the castle of San Juan. She had lain at her anchor near the site of once classic Athens, and in full view of what now remains of the once great city of Hannibal. She had once sought shelter from a Levanter near Brundusium that was, with its Appian way. Her paddle-wheels churning up the water of the Black sea, announced the first appearance of an American man-of-war in that stormy water; and on her decks, surrounded by his late fellows in exile, Kossuth, fresh from the damp of his Kutahia prison, addressed the seething populace around in the harbor of Marseilles, with a fervor and eloquence which almost extenuated so indefensible a violation of the national hospitality which our nation was then extending him; and now the old Mississippi was leaving her own country, bound to the other side of the great globe, bearing the hopes of many, and embarked in a mission which might be successful—which might, perhaps, come to naught.

I said she ploughed deeply on getting beyond the Capes, because, with the considerate intelligence and humanity which preside over our naval affairs, sending boxes of guns to sea with national names, bringing about such sad losses as those of the Albany and the Porpoise, the Mississippi, designed by her constructor to draw eighteen feet of water, and to carry four hundred and fifty tons of coal, has her bunkers enlarged to the capacity of six hundred tons, additional lines of copper put upon her, and goes out drawing twenty-one feet, her guards but a short distance from the water. In this state we left the United States; her decks not yet cleared of the stores hastily put aboard for the different messes; the lengthened visages of sad people all around, thinking whether they had omitted anything in their notes of last adieu sent back by the Pilot; the mustering and stationing of a new crew at their division and fire quarters; the making everything ready for sea, all presented such a novel scene to one who was on a man-of-war underway for the first time, that he was too much engrossed in observing, to tell his “native land good-night,” turning to do which, he found that it had “faded,” not over the “waters blue,” but behind an expanse of dull slate-colored ocean, which the heavy striking of our deeply-immersed paddles was slowly and drowsily disturbing. There was none of the graceful undulatory motion, and bellying out of the great white canvass of the sailing-ship, which writers of much imagination and nautical turn of mind, delight so much to sing about. It was only the sturdy prose of a warlike old steamer belching from the jaws of her great funnel columns of thick black smoke, which separated at her mainmast, or rolled away in dense masses astern, perversely holding on her way to the port of her destination. The “loguey” motion of the ship, while it kept her decks wet from the swashing of a cross sea over her head rail, at least had the advantage to a landsman of enabling him to get on his “sea-legs” all the sooner.

The scene at night on a man-of-war, is one full of interest to him who sees it for the first time. The decks, busily thronged during the day by the men in the performance of their duties, at an early hour of the night, with the exception of the watch, are apparently deserted; a number equal to the population of a small village, crowded close together, swing in their pendent beds in oblivious sleep, which the exertions of the day makes more profound, leaving nothing to disturb the quiet of the vessel, save the half-hour striking of the ship’s bell, and the quick responses of the different look-outs assuming their watchfulness, or the drumming of the wheels as they send the yesty water along the side.

In a few days we crossed that great liquid fortification of our coast—the Gulf-stream—when the temperature became greatly moderated, our stoves were taken down, the cloudy skies that we had had disappeared, and we hailed the sun. The water had changed from 41° to 71°, the sun came up magnificently from the ocean, and the air felt like a balmy spring morning; away off in the southeast floated piles of clouds like inverted illuminated pearl-shells, and for the first time since leaving Norfolk, we were enabled to look upon the deep blue sea, and the blue deep sea. Then, too, our fine band, composed of twenty-three brass and reed instruments, discoursed its most pleasant strains for the first time since we had been out, under the leadership of a talented old Italian musician—the only man I ever saw who, with a nice “ear for music,” kept both of his auriculars continually stopped with wool.

The cry of “Land, ho!” on the evening of the 11th of December, announced our vicinity to Madeira, after a rough and lonely passage from the United States of eighteen days. The weather proving rough, we wore ship and stood off during the night, and early in the morning again stood for the island, and it was not long before we were running under the lee of its northern side. Madeira at a distance, wrapped in its hazy robe of blue, presents the appearance of a huge monster reposing on the water, but running in under the land, the aspect is far more attractive. Being the first foreign land on which my eyes had ever rested, I gazed with increasing pleasure on the parti-colored soil, on the graceful and silvery cascades precipitating themselves down its steep shores, presenting the appearance of tapering spires of churches, while nestling here and there on the cliffs, amid thick verdure, were the happy-looking quintas and farmhouses. Toward evening, leaving the singular formed rocks “Las Desertas” on our left, we rounded the northeasternmost point of the island, and Funchal, in its terraced beauty, came in full view. We fired a gun and hoisted a jack for a pilot, but we were permitted to approach without the aid of that functionary. It being Sunday, perhaps they did not officiate on that day. Just before sundown we came to in the harbor, near the Pontinha, and immediately on anchoring were boarded by the Portuguese health-officer, who, finding we had no contagious disease aboard, granted us pratique. The second promptest visiters to welcome us were the washerwomen, who are all eager for the possession of the soiled linen, at the same time evincing a wonder of recognition and recollection perfectly satisfactory to themselves, but not at all convincing to anybody else. One old shrivelled dame of a laundress insisted that I had visited the island before, and pretended to adhere to the opinion with the tenacity of Dolly, in Oliver Twist, when she called upon the good bystanders to make her brother go home. This was old Madam Yesus, and, as my poor battered garments subsequently proved, she washed “not wisely, but too well.” They were eminently communicative on general topics, told us how “mucher pauvre” they were, gave us the first news of the approaching famine, and to men who had been tumbling about the ocean for over half a month, the unsavory intelligence that wine, which but a short time before could be bought for forty cents per bottle, could now only be obtained for a dollar.

Funchal, from the water, presents a very attractive appearance to the traveller who sees it for the first time. I don’t know when I have been more impressed with the beauty of any scene, than when from the deck of our ship, with a delicious atmosphere that obliterated all recollection of the month being December, a setting sun more keenly defining and causing to loom up each object, I looked upon its bright houses, made more so by the deep red of their tiles, as they rose in a terraced crescent, one above another, the convent of Santa Clara, the deep-hued verdure that filled up the interstices of the picture, the Loo Rock fort, and the cathedral in the foreground, with just enough of time-stain on its towers to make more venerable its front, and the tortuous paved road, running up the hills like an immense, stony serpent, terminating at the church of our “Lady of the Mount,” elevated nineteen hundred feet above the sea; and the vineyards in the distance.

Being an open roadstead, with the wind from a certain direction a very heavy sea tumbles into the harbor, and there is at all times a considerable surf breaking on the beach. On going ashore you have to employ Portuguese surf-boats, which are much better constructed for purposes of landing than our own. On either side, not far from the keel, they have projecting pieces resembling the side-fins of a dolphin, which gives them much steadiness in a sea-way, while head and stern they have perpendicular handles as it were. As they near the beach, one of the boatmen jumps over into the water, and, seizing the piece at the prow, keeps the boat head on, when the succeeding swell sets her high, if not dry, upon the sand, and you are ashore. Your way thither may only be delayed a short time, by the officer contrabandista, who, pulling alongside, touches his hat, and proceeds, by an inspection of your boat, to see whether his aquatic countrymen are not attempting to smuggle ashore such things as soap and tobacco, which his most gracious sovereign of Portugal has been pleased to reserve as a government monopoly. When the weather is rather rough, the customary place of landing is the Pontinha, a steep rock terminating an arched causeway, or kind of breakwater, from which the coal is usually embarked for the steamers stopping at the island. The scene presented, or the horrible clamor that salutes your ears, is not particularly calculated to prolong the pleasant illusion which the more distant sight of the place gave you. You no sooner put your foot on the stone stairs than your winding way of ascent is beset by innumerable lazzaroni most offensive in habit and appearance, whose rabid importunities for alms will not permit you to say them nay. Once through this crowd of “dago” pauperism—the most squalid and effete of all pauperism, your movements on the causeway are impeded by the boisterous calls of the Borro Querros, with their horses already saddled and bridled for “gentlemin” to ride. The bellowing guttural of one fellow provokes your attention to his steed, in whose praises he is loud, having gotten which, he digs him in flank, and dashes off over the stony pavement, to show you his paces. Your charger selected (I had a weakness in the matter of a fine bay myself,) the din ceases. Our party, consisting of five or six well mounted, determined on a gallop to the “Petite Coral,” calling on the polite and hospitable consul on our way thither. One peculiarity strikes you on starting, that is, that your dago friend, of whom you obtained your charger, acts as a kind of equerry during your ride, and the better to enable him to accompany you, when you are inclined to give your horse the rein, he seizes that animal by the tail with one hand, keeping off the flies with a wisp in the other, or uses it as an accelerator on his haunches, holding on meanwhile with a grip which the Kirk Alloway witches would have envied when they brought about that finale to “poor Maggy.”

The streets through which we rode were quite narrow, and enclosed by balconied houses of two stories, or stuccoed garden walls, over which the graceful banana leaf bent, or a cornice of beautiful running flowers was to be seen. From the nearly closed casement pretty dark eyes peeped down upon you, pretty I fear, because scarcely any other features were visible. The native women we met in the street walked closely veiled, which none who met them desired to have done away with, if a truant zephyr once gave a sight of their swarthy faces. Your attention is attracted by the rather picturesque costume of the natives, which consists of a loose shirt drawn at the waist, knee breeches made full, white boots which are regularly chalked, and on the summit of their cranium they wear a cap of cloth bearing an identical resemblance to an apothecary’s glass funnel inverted. The manner in which the peasants retain these head coverings in their place, has been as perplexing to strangers, as how the apple got inside the dumpling was to England’s sovereign, but considering the population, it would not be uncharitable to conclude that the tension is induced by the vacuum in the noddles they surmount, on the principle of the “sucker” with which philosophic juveniles raise a brick. The continued “Boo-ah” resounding in the streets, as the driver of the sleds with casks upon them spurs up the two poor little oxen, whom a small boy leads with a string from the horn, soon convinces you that you are in the land of the elevating “Tinta,” and generous “Serchal.” Should the sled drag heavily over the stones, the small boy throws down in front of it a wetted cloth, passing over which, the runner is lubricated.

On reaching the residence of the American consul, we dismounted and partook of a lunch, which his hospitality invariably provides for his visiting countrymen. It is unnecessary to tell with what gusto, men who eighteen days before were gathered around a stove in their own land, were now in the genial air of Madeira, windows open, and perfume coming in all around from beautiful plants, partook of the rich treat of guavas, the small banana, and the Mandarin orange just plucked from the tree that thrust itself in the casement. The snack over, we ascended to the consul’s observatory; a fine glass, mounted on a tripod, swept the offing and anchorage, giving every object much nearness. Our old ship lying stately at her anchors, was just saluting with twenty-one guns the Portuguese flag floating at her fore, which was promptly returned by the fort on Loo Rock. Around and below us were patches of green-vine and trellis, amid an expanse of red tile roofs, on many of which were placed wine-casks that they might sweeten in the sun. We then descended to the wine-houses, where butt after butt of large dimensions, reached by foot ladders, of Tinta and Serchal, and “Navy,” told how the delightful grape of the island had swelled into fullness, and then been crushed into wine. Ah! Clarence, thou shouldst have lived till now.

We mounted and started for le Petite Coral, by the way of the church Nossa Senhora do Monte. The angle of ascent of the road is over twenty degrees, but the style of going up is usually to give your horse his head and his rider’s heel, and if like Putnam’s he dashes up, racketing it over the stones, and sending back fire from his heels, why it’s the way. Being bantered for a dash up by one of my messmates, and my friend the Borro Querro in the rear not being a party thereto, I regret to remark, that the last I saw of that respected individual after the start, he was engaged in performing some very sudden gyrations proximate to the roadside hedge. However, a glass of the country wine, on his joining me at the blowing place, about half-way up, enabled me to make my entire peace with him for the suddenness of my leaving. The way up was lined with vines and dogs, peasant girls and chapels, mendicants and donkeys, which would knock Mr. Laurence Sterne’s sentimental blubber all in the head. The clatter of the approaching hoofs caused the dark browed senoritas to “come unto the window,” but the horses appeared to hurry on the faster for their presence. The descent of this mountain is generally made at a rapid pace, on a rude sled, two boys riding behind and giving it proper direction. The mode of movement about the streets, is, if a foreigner and invalid, in a hammock suspended from a pole, and borne on the shoulders of two men, steadying themselves as they walk with quarter-staffs; if a native gentleman in a canopied sled drawn by unsightly oxen, which quick mode of movement will convey a very good idea of the enterprise of the people who employ it.

But we were on the way to the Church of the Lady of the Mount. It was not very long before we dismounted at the foot of the long flight of discolored stone steps that led to its front. On reaching the terrace we looked down on the view below us. The town had dwindled into a white-washed amphitheatre; the ships were not quite as much changed as the objects to the sight of Edgar from the cliffs of Dover, but appeared greatly reduced in proportion. I could scarcely believe that the Mississippi, riding at her anchors in the bay, was the floating home of over three hundred human beings!

On entering the church, we were met at the door by a pussy snuff-taking priest, whose besmeared outer garment looked as if it would have been all the better for the application of a cake of brown soap in connection with some of the clear water which coursed down the mountain past his sanctuary. The interior of the edifice displayed the most garish taste, and with its sickening amount of gilding, was embellished in the most tawdry manner. There was the customary proportion of relics, and the paintings around looked very old. Our stay was short, and after leaving a small sum for our footing, as Jack would say, we returned to our steeds, leaving the wax figure of the lady patroness of the island in a glass case in the rear, looking as demure and as indifferent to our presence as when we entered. The whilom legends of the devout tell of her, at a time when breadstuffs were scarce, having left her crystal enclosure and gone to hurry on cargoes of grain to Funchal, which, like Buckingham, were “on the sea.”

The descent to the Coral—a deep mountain gorge of singular and circular formation—is by a narrow shelf of a road cut in the face of a precipitous hill, and running in inclined planes. One does not entirely fancy the task of going down; but then the horses are rough-shod, with reference to such places, are remarkably sure footed, and move instinctively with much caution. On getting to the bottom, the road by which we had just come looked like a mere thread-line on the face of the cliff that hung over us. Its depth is some sixteen hundred feet, and you look up to the azure above you as from an immense pit. We stopped at a small mill situated at the lowest point of the Coral, to give our horses a little time to blow, and our borro querros a little country wine, which was likewise patronized by ourselves. I noticed around clumps of pines planted for fuel, and a number of exquisite flowers growing spontaneously. We ascended from the Coral by a road equally as narrow and precipitous as the one by which we had gone down, only proving less clear; a large rock which had caved from the bank nearly barricaded the path, and on reaching it my horse, whose reputation I subsequently ascertained to be one for shying, came quite near treating himself and rider to a Tarpean fate. On reaching the top, we were refreshed by a breeze redolent with perfume, and turned into a road enclosed on either side by hedges of bona fide geranium. It is feeding on this sweet plant that imparts to the meat of the native cattle, when eaten, a peculiar flavor; and the honey of the bee who gathers his sweets from it, is strongly impregnated with its pleasant odor. No wonder that the attenuated invalid should resort to thee, beautiful Madeira, to revive his drooping spirits. We returned to the city in the evening, by a road running past pleasant gardens, and by a bridge that spans the canal which receives the quickly-swollen mountain streams, and put ourselves in charge of mine host of Guilletti’s.

The next day I landed near the governmental house, where was staying as a guest the invalided empress mother of Brazil, who had, with a broken constitution, gone to Madeira, since to die. I visited the charitable hospital of the place, which fronts on the grand plaza. No sight can be more loathsome than the one to be seen in the wards of a Portuguese hospital, unless it be that of the dead mendicants that you pass in the streets of some of the cities of China. The most terrible ailments that flesh is heir to, and the greatest suffering that “age, ache, and penury, can lay on nature,” were present all around. And then there were others in whom the flame of life, after flickering lowly, had just gone out. I was very willing to get away from the apartment, and after descending to a dimly-lighted chapel below, where a solitary priest was engaged in prayer for the repose of the dead and dying above, and glancing at its characteristic decorations, I left the building. The edifice itself is quite an extended one, though it has no architectural beauty to attract attention. Over its main entrance, cut elaborately in a massive block of stone, are the royal arms of Portugal.

My next place of visit was to the local prison, through which I was accompanied by a sergeant. The inmates, who were composed of both sexes, confined for offences of smuggling a bar of soap, up to those of a graver character, are allowed to indulge in any handiwork for which they are competent, and the product of their hands, tied on the ends of poles, is thrust through their prison-windows into the street, of which they solicit the purchase by the passer-by. But not even in the prisons are you exempt from the “por sua suade”—the interminable solicitation for alms; and the distance which the prisoner may be from you is no barrier, as he is provided with a small car which, with a pole, he can push to his outer grating, and as quickly withdraw. I can mention a circumstance to show with what little sense of degradation or hesitancy this thing of alms-asking is indulged in by a dago population. I was sitting in front of the consul’s, conversing with some friends, when quite a genteel and tidily-dressed person, rejoicing in a much better pair of patent-leathers than I could muster, approached us and solicited alms, and was quite pertinacious in his request. I had heard of the Spanish beggars on horseback, who solicited aid of pedestrians on the ground that they had more need of assistance than other people because they had to support their beast as well as themselves, but I had never met with anything quite as deliberate until I encountered my patent-leather-shoe friend at Madeira.

And now we have been at Funchal two days, and the third, on which we are to take our departure for St. Helena, has arrived. In taking leave of the pleasant isle of vine and bower, the writer regrets that he can not, for the benefit of those of a more sentimental mood than himself, follow the example of others, and say something about the Santa Clara convent, that stands embosomed by deep foliage on the hill, and tell in touching tones about the fair and unhappy Donna Clementina, who, besides being admired because Heaven had vouchsafed to her a visage blonde, when those around were brunette, was also loved for other qualities, for which vide her devotees—how she “would be a nun,” and how she “wouldn’t be a nun;” and how some “young Lochinvar,” who they say came “out of the west,” once wished to do something both romantic and desperate, and rescue the fair lady from the holy precincts where, it was represented, she was most unwillingly detained; but, with Mr. Aminadab Sleek, in the play, “we are really afraid we can’t.”

Good-by, Madeira, whose tropical beauty was so fresh to me, and the picture of whose loveliness will be ever in mind.

“Long, long be my heart with such memories filled.”

CHAPTER II.

On the afternoon of the 15th of December, all hands being on board, with coal dust, and wine for distinguished functionaries in the U. S. on our decks, an orange and banana smell over the ship, and six little Madeira bullocks, who, upon being hoisted in by the horns, no sooner reached the decks, than they indulged in a series of cavortings, to the no small amusement of the old shell-back denizens of the forecastle, we lifted anchor, and steamed away from Funchal, to the south. At nightfall Madeira’s lines of green, and basalt, and red soil, were lost to view.

We were now entering on the longest run we anticipated making during the cruise. On the second morning out at an early hour we made Palma, one of the westernmost of the Canary islands. When the sun came up from behind it, defining its sharp peaks and irradiating the whole outline of the island, I had the happy consciousness that it fully compensated me for the rupture of my matinal slumbers, necessary to get a glimpse of it. The celebrated peak of Teneriffe was wrapped in cloud when we passed, and I did not see it; though others with “optics sharp,” at one time, said they discerned it in the extreme distance. We subsequently passed in sight of the Cape de Verde islands. During the day we ran into what is termed the incipient northeast trades, and as our coal was not deemed sufficient for the run before us, the engines were stopped, twenty tons of water blown from the boilers, fires extinguished, sufficient number of the paddles removed from the wheels, which were lashed, the large smoke stack lowered on the hurricane deck, and the ship put under sail. Many of us thought if the Japanese could only get a sight of the funnel as it lay in its chocks like another huge “peace-maker” when we reached their country, they would prove quite accessible. The spars of the Mississippi being tall, she spread a great deal of canvass, but the wind continuing quite light we made but little progress for several days. A whale saluted us by tapping his head against our port guard. On the 18th we tacked ship, and on the 21st we got the trade-winds proper, and under studding-sails ran quite well. Life on the ocean, monotonous, nearly, at all times, was rendered more so to us, by the transition from a steamer to a sailing ship. To study on shipboard, or even to read with profit, as I had heard before, is next to impossible, unless it may be with an old sea-dog to whom for some forty years the “ocean has been a dwelling-place.” Try it, and you will find your eyes wandering from the type, and your thoughts bolting from the subject, like a refractory quarter-horse over a track railing. The weekly routine of the ship was comprised in going to quarters, morning and evening, for inspection; and once a week the whole ship’s company are beat to general quarters, when the magazines are open, the powder-boys busy in passing and repassing cartridge-boxes, the guns are cast loose and worked by their crews, boarders are called away, pikemen are posted to repel boarders, marines are stationed near them, &c.; the master gives his orders for sail-trimmers to put stoppers on such portions of the rigging, as an active imagination suggests must have been shot away, and all the evolutions of an actual engagement at sea are gone through; together with exercise at fire-quarters, when an alarm with the ship’s bell is rung, at which sentinels are placed at the falls of each boat, so that in an actual emergency there could be none of the inhuman desertion and infamous flight which marked the sad catastrophe of the “Arctic.” All of these exercises, which increase the discipline of a crew and the efficiency of a ship, are of course possessed of more interest to those officers who have military duties to perform on board, than others, who are too apt to experience the indifference of the Emerald isle native, who being informed that the house was on fire, replied it was nothing to him, he “was only a boarder.”

The weather we experienced in the trades was very pleasant, though it became hot with much suddenness. Pretty white clouds trooped across the sky like pilgrims in white, bound to Mecca. The regular waves as they came chasing one another from the horizon, rolled the whitest caps, and the sea was of the bluest, particularly as the lashed arms of our wheels divided the water in their passage, and the wheel-houses keeping off the direct rays of the sun, made it exquisitely transparent. Though the dews at night were so heavy that the moisture would run like rain off the awnings, yet the shadows of the big sails that had gone to sleep from the steadiness of the wind, made deeper by the bright moonlight and the illuminated image of the engine of our Savior’s agony—the “southern cross”—with its twinkling stars looking down from the sky, made one forget that the distance from the coast of Africa was not the greatest, and that the wearing of a thick coat at night, was a decided improvement on a thin one. Porpoises were almost in the daily practice of thrusting their swinish nozzles upon public attention, and innumerable graceful little flying-fish, disturbed by our passage through the water, or chased by the dolphin, flew continually across the waves ahead of us, like flocks of sparrows over briers. But then we had the smallpox on board, on the person of a Portuguese boy shipped at Funchal, and the possibility of contracting this loathsome disease, or the possession of an arm rather sore from vaccination, did not make the run more pleasurable.

The events of Christmas day were, that we were in 13° 23′ north latitude, and 23° 48′ west longitude; a very pleasant repast was spread by the ward-room, where “home with all its endearments” was drunk in Serchal; and a poor little bird very much resembling the partridge of our own country, was blown aboard. This little representative of Africa’s feathery race fell a victim to the taxidermist aboard. What he thought previous to his demise, of the day, I know not, but to me it was not Christmas; and no mental effort could “bring back the features that joy used to wear” when the mistletoe was hung, and the back log placed; nor could the defunct gobbler, who lately bestrode our coop, sole tenant, now lying in very brown state on a festive table, even provoke the pleasant memories.

The next day, promulgated by Commodore M. C. Perry, and signed by the then hiatus secretary of the navy, Mr. Swallow-Barn Kennedy, was read on the quarter-deck, General Order, No. 1, which, it is said, had a precedent in the expedition of Lieut. Wilkes, but which was as bad as its precedent, and equally unjust, being based upon the ridiculous premise that because a government may have claim upon your thews and sinews, or your mental aptitude in the line of your profession, that it likewise has property in the product of your brain, no matter in what other way, out of your calling, it may be exercised. This order was violated subsequently in China, in the grossest way, with the tacit consent of the commander-in-chief who first issued it; as if the prominent, in rule, or law, under our government were any more exempt from its provisions, than that the humblest are not beneath its control. I say in the grossest way, because he permitted, if he did not personally supervise, the preparation of an account of the movements of his squadron, for the colonial English newspapers at Hong-Kong, in preference to our own; papers too, whose columns at other times displayed the village squabbling, which marked the thunders, of the “Eatanswill Gazette” in Pickwick, in response to the shafts of “The Independent.”

The following is the order:—

“U. S. Steam Frigate, Mississippi,
“At Sea, December 21st, 1852.

“General Order, No. 1

“In promulgating the subjoined extract from the instructions addressed to me by the honorable secretary of the navy, and bearing date 13th ult., I have to enjoin upon all officers and other persons attached to the vessels under my command, or in any other way connected with the squadron, a most rigid adherence to all the requirements of said order.

“Whatever notes or drawings may be prepared by the officers or other persons before mentioned, whether by special order, or by their own volition, will be endorsed by the respective parties, and transmitted through the captain of the fleet to the commander-in-chief, who will in due time lodge them at the navy department, from whence they may be reclaimed as it may suit the convenience of the government.

“All arms, curiosities, and specimens of natural history, are also to become the property of the United States, unless voluntarily relinquished by the commander-in-chief.

“M. C. Perry,
“Commander of the U. S. Naval Forces,
“Stationed in the East India, China, and Japan Seas.”

[Extract.]

“A subject of great importance to the success of the expedition, will present itself to your mind in relation to communications to the prints and newspapers, touching the movements of your squadron, as well as in relation to all matters connected with the discipline and internal regulations of the vessels composing it. You will therefore enjoin upon all under your command to abstain from writing to friends and others upon these subjects, the journals and private notes of the officers and other persons in the expedition must be considered as belonging to the government until permission be received from the navy department to publish them.”

The effect of this order was to cause officers to decline keeping journals, and only note down their previous conceptions and present impressions of things and places seen, in their letters to relatives.

In 8° north of the equator we became becalmed, when the paddles were put on and we steamed away about eight knots. Our drinking water about this time showed a degree of vitality which was not made more agreeable by the fact that the naval regulations did not allow the wearing of the mustache, even for straining purposes.

About ten o’clock on the last night of ’52 there was a cry from the poop-deck of “man overboard!” when the engines were stopped, and the life-buoys suspended from either quarter of the ship were attempted to be gotten away, but not going quickly, nor their matchlocks igniting from some cause, gratings were hove overboard, lights sent up in the mizzen-top, and a metallic boat, the 2d cutter, in which went Lieutenant Webb, and Passed Midshipman K. R. Breese, was lowered and went in search of the unfortunate man. There was much solicitude felt for the poor fellow by those who stood on the poop peering into the darkness astern, eager to hear the least sound that indicated the man still afloat, but it was scarcely shown by the scene enacted during the absence of the boat. Up came the commodore: “What’s the bearing of that star?—Where did that man fall from?” Voice:—“Show the Commodore where the man fell from!”—man goes over to port side—“Take care of the paint!” “How does she head?” After a lapse of fifteen or twenty minutes the boat was heard returning, when the following was the hail:—“Mr. Webb?”—“Sir?”—“Have you got the buoy?”—“Yes, sir.”— “Have you got that man?” Answer: “Yes, sir,” which was one of much gratification, as every one regarded him as gone. The boat it appeared, had passed him, and having given up the search, was returning, and would have pulled over him, but for his being discovered in time by a bow-oarsman. He was floating without effort on the surface, although there was considerable sea on at the time. The poor fellow upon being taken on board was found to have swallowed a great deal of water, and it was thought that he might die from congestion of the lungs. He had the antithetical name of Dry, and his mind being afterward found affected, he was sent home in a merchant-ship from the Cape of Good Hope.

We crossed the equator on the 3d of January, in longitude 11° west, and when the “sun came up on the left” on the morning of the 10th, right ahead, perhaps in the very track of the Northumberland, looming sternly up from out the ocean, like the dark high walls of an ocean-prison that it is, we saw St. Helena. The tallest peak, that of Diana, is visible in the clouds for a great distance. At mid-day we anchored in the roadstead fronting James’ town, and shortly after saluted the flag of England with twenty-one guns. At no time, during a cruise of two years and over, did I hear any reverberation from our heavy pieces, half so magnificent. The sound of each explosion, at first seemed to recoil from the face of the immense rock which upreared itself in front, and then as if gathering strength from the temporary rebuff, it broke, in and up the wedge-shaped valley in which James’ town is situated, and appearing for a moment to die away, again went on over gorge and peak, tumbling, roaring, thundering in the distance, as if “Jura answered through her misty shroud.” The salute was returned by one of the number of forts that were looming away above us on the island.

In shore of us lay a number of sharp rakish-looking little vessels, slavers, that had been captured by the English cruisers, on the African station, and brought to the island to be adjudged by a local court of admiralty; better than our system where captor and prize have to return frequently, great distances to the United States.

The landing at St. Helena is made on a mole at one end of the small beach that lies only immediately in front of James’ town. A few minutes’ walk, and crossing a drawbridge, over a moat, you pass through an embattled wall, from which some iron pieces frown down on you, by a lofty gate, at which sentinels are always posted. On getting inside, a triangular street made of rolled gravel is before you. On the left are the guard quarters, the governor’s house and offices, and a public garden; on the right a church, hotel, and the ascent to Ladder hill, where is situated the highest fort of the place, reached by six hundred and twenty-five steps. Right before you, running from the apex of the triangle, is the road which leads to the spot which has made St. Helena famous, and England infamous for ever. As you ascend this road, you may look down on the settlements of the Chinese who have left the flowery kingdom to dwell in this place of isolation and desolation; also see the fine English soldier as he is being closely drilled from company to battalion, not by duke of Cambridge, or Earl Cardigan, all of whose bravery will not make up for want of tactical knowledge, but by sergeants.

Our stay at the island was to be only until we could get coal enough aboard to take us to Cape Town, and so on the following morning I started for Longwood and the now vacant tomb of Napoleon. I was not aware when I started on foot, that I had to walk a distance before returning to the town, of nine miles, and that too over a road of lava formation, and under the burning rays of a vertical sun. The ascent, at the first, is very great. Much fagged on reaching the summit point I sat down to rest, and surveyed the scene around. Near me on a road-stone, his bridleless and heavily-ladened little donkey cropping thistles not far off, in his parti-colored dress sat a Lascar quietly discussing his cigar. On the stone which he occupied, I read “1124 distance: 1180 feet elevation.” The road in the direction in which I was going was shut in by clumps of brushwood and some scrubby pines, above which, far away—its ragged top currying away the bottoms of the southeast trade-clouds which, blowing continually over the island, ever and anon drop their genial drops on the arid earth beneath—rose Diana’s peak hundreds of feet in air. But the view looking seaward: Sir Joshua Reynolds said that the horizon-line of the great and wide sea in mid-deep is one of the most striking emblems of the infinite and the eternal to be found in all the works of the Almighty. This idea, of all other places, arises in the mind when gazing from the eminences of St. Helena; but then, as you look upon “the sea here, the sea there, the sea all around,”—contrasted with the vast expanse, how small in the imagination becomes the spot on which you stand, and how coffined before death, must have felt the great spirit, to whom all Europe was once a theatre,—qui fait le tour du monde!

From where I sat, I could see in the gorge beneath, very plainly, the “Briers,” the home and habitation of Napoleon until Longwood could be gotten ready for his reception. It is situated behind a naked, stony hill, and must have been a warm abode, but Napoleon liked it for its quaintness and solitude; preferring it to better houses in the town, where privacy would have been impossible. The place is enclosed by low walls and rows of the prickly pear. On resuming my tramp, I passed some swarthy-featured, black-haired, fine-formed young women, barefooted, and lightly clad, carrying bundles of twigs on their heads, with which they walked, with apparently perfect indifference, notwithstanding the steepness of road and the intense rays of the sun. I soon reached and went by an old cottage in decay, a rusty signal-gun, a wayside inn with an embowered doorway, and then passing through a lane of trees, I entered upon a level road, which, in the space of three quarters of a mile, turned in crescent to the left. Some distance below, within this crescent, a lot of fir, cypress, and other trees, with grassy sod, terminated a small valley which commenced in desolation from the seaside. This spot was enclosed by a low, straggling fence, having a kind of sentry-box at its gate, and contains the vacant tomb of Napoleon. I descended to the place, paid the shilling entrance required of me, and entered the enclosure. The willow-tree which so invariably figured in all drawings of the spot, is now gone. The grave is enclosed by a plain iron railing, and, when I saw it, covered over with an awning. Its present appearance is that of the strong foundation of an elongated old spring-house, lined with cement. It is eight feet deep, having at the bottom a small recess sunk below the general level, which received the coffin, and about five feet wide. Desirous of getting the exact measurement of so much greatness, one of our party stretched himself at full length in this lower deep, but its chilliness soon made him have as little desire to continue there, as the old hero of New Orleans had to repose after death in the sarcophagus of one of the Cæsars, which the very considerate kindness of a commodore had brought for him. The whole surface of the plastering down in the tomb is covered with scarcely-legible names, or petty ambition’s trashy verses. The same very limited aspiration is to be seen in the pages of a register kept at the place, where the national animosities of visiting-strangers play shuttlecock and battledore. The obstinate and collected Englishman repeats the commonplace of Sir Walter Scott, in wishing you to behold the spot which held him for whom the earth was once too small, or ethically informs you, that one life being taken constitutes murder, but that of thousands makes a hero; then comes the mercurial Frenchman, who, after relieving himself by a great big “sacre” on the English nation generally and the island jailer in particular, says Napoleon is avenged, for Hudson Lowe “est mort;” or breaks out with “J’ai vu: J’ai maudit!” Next comes that peripatetic philosopher, Jonathan, who, smacking as usual of the shop, furnishes the edifying information that he belongs to the “Mary Brown, of New Bedford, has bin out over two years, and hain’t got but four hundred barrils of oil; hopes to be to ‘hum’ soon; and stopping at the island, has just come out to see Boney’s tomb!”

When the tomb contained the body of the great emperor, it was filled to within one foot of the surface, with earth, and covered in mound form with cement. The three slabs that closed the grave, were taken from the kitchen hearth of the Longwood jail. A cicerone, in the person of a gray-haired old negro woman, who saw both the interment and the exhumation of the remains of Napoleon, tells you in an Ethiopic vernacular, of the incidents of the spot; after enumerating the number of coffins in which the body was placed, she said, “Dare, sir, laid his head, and here was his feet.”—“He always used to drink at dat dare spring, dare.”—“I’s seen him many a time come down dat hill dare wid his snuff-box and one of General Bertram’s children.”—“When he used to stop still, he’d do jest so”—folding her arms. She was also quite minute in her mention of the “Prince de Jonnyville” in the “Belpooly.”

The spot was pointed out to me where Bertrand, Gourgaud, Las Casas, and Marchand, erected the tent to put the body under after exhumation, which took place amid wind and rain. All around the tomb was wet and miry; in times of heavy rains, now, the tomb is not unfrequently filled with water. The work of disinterment was begun after midnight, and by seven o’clock in the morning the stones that closed the lower vault were raised. The anvil employed by the men engaged upon the work to keep their tools in order, sank at every blow, and the men were ankle deep in mud. I have nothing pathetic or philosophic to add, upon the spot;

“Si ta tombe est vide Napoleon?

Ton nom ne remplit il pas l’universe.”

Ascending the hill on the other side, by a winding path which led up through a pretty garden, I stopped at the little residence of “Hutt’s gate,” formerly occupied by General Bertrand, with his family, previous to moving out to the building in the vicinity of Longwood. After resting here, I footed it a mile further, to the outer entrance to the grounds of Longwood. The prospect before me during this walk was of the dreariest and most desolate kind, presenting the most marked contrast to the verdure at the tomb. It was along this road that Napoleon walked to his favorite spring, and over which his Chinese coolies carried his water from it. After passing a dilapidated wall and gate, you enter upon a lawn of some hundred yards, on one side of which are straggling fir-trees, bent down in the same direction by the continual pressure of the southeast trade-winds, which are felt at this part of the island very strongly, and the other side was hedged by a long row of the stately aloe. In a few minutes you are in front of a dilapidated low building, with a small verandah in front of one of its wings, and partly enclosed in an old stone wall. This is Longwood as it now is. When I reached it, the place looked abandoned in the extreme, with the exception of the cows and a scrawny donkey that browsed around, or a solitary turkey who broke the silence with his gobble. There was the decayed and silent guard-house and signal-tower, its halyards rotted away and pole tottering, from which the restless bunting was for ever telling by day to the sedulous jailer at “Plantation House” how his great prisoner at Longwood, after the mental exhaustion of dictation, or the fatigues of a morning walk, now slept, or that, having slept, he was now feeding his pet fishes in the little pond in the rear of his cell abode. This quiet was soon broken; a dirty-faced, uncombed-haired English girl approached, and informed us that the fee for admission to the house was two shillings—Longwood, like the grounds around the tomb, being leased by the government to others, for the purpose of speculating on the interest of association connected with the great emperor. If we are the “dollar people,” can any man who has ever visited English domain say, that they are not entitled to the name of “shilling nation!”

The first room you enter on going into the house, is the one in which, amid storm and rain, and when

“Far along,

From peak to peak, the rattling crags among,

Leapt the live thunder,”

its booming reaching the now drowsy ear which was once attuned to the roar of cannon on a hundred fields, with the ejaculation of “tête d’armée” on his nearly motionless lips, died Napoleon. The head of his bed rested against the sill of a window, from underneath which the French have removed the stone, and placed it in the Hospital des Invalides as a precious relic. Through the sashless opening, the sun now streams in on the floor of a room occupied by a thrashing-machine, and with a manger overhead; while the room in which he mostly slept, and ate, and read, is now paved with cobble-stones, and filled with horse-stalls. The fish-pond is dry, and the grave of his favorite horse you can not find.

Just across the road I visited the new house of Longwood, its walls sound, its porticoes and floors in a perfect state of preservation, and its spacious rooms unoccupied. Napoleon visited it once, but feeling that one jail was no less one for being better built than another, spurned this offer of the English to conciliate him in his cage, as the lion spurns the leavings of the jackal though he die in his den.

On my way back to James’ town, I passed in sight of the grounds and former mansion of

“The paltry jailer and the prying spy”—

“Plantation house”—but had no desire to visit it.

At James’ town there is a very fine bust of Napoleon, said to have been made from a plaster cast of the face, taken after death; the nose is much more exquisitely chiselled and beautiful than any other representation to be seen of his face.

Before nightfall on the 11th of January, we were under way for the Cape of Good Hope from St. Helena.

“The fleets that sweep before the eastern blast,

Shall hear their sea-boys hail it from the mast;

When Victory’s Gallic column shall but rise,

Like Pompey’s pillar, in a desert’s skies,

The rocky isle, that holds, or held his dust,

Shall crown the Atlantic like the hero’s bust.”

CHAPTER III.

We reached Cape Town after a run of thirteen days. On the morning of the 24th of January we made the long, low sandhills in the vicinity of Saldanha bay, South Africa, and continuing our run in sight of the coast during the day, anchored after nightfall, with bright moonlight around, in Table bay. We encountered the whole way a strong head wind and sea, and at one time doubted whether our coal would be sufficient to enable us to reach our port. The men were exercised at target practice, with pistol and musket. On the 15th, the sun being vertical, the friendly wish “May your shadow never be less,” would have been superfluous, as on that day the thing was impossible. As we neared the guano islands, lying off the harbor, we were surrounded by booby-birds and sea-gulls innumerable; the “albatross” also “did cross,” and very large birds they were.

Cape Town, from the water, looks like a long, low, yellow fortification. Its population is about thirty thousand, made up of the representatives of nearly every nation. It was captured from the Dutch by the English in 1806. Being the great stopping-place for vessels bound round the Cape of Good Hope, or returning from Australia and the East Indies, the occupations of the inhabitants are mostly mercantile. The streets are wide and well laid out. They have a number of fine churches, a botanical garden, and quite an extensive library. High behind the town, flanked on either side by the conical hills of the “Lion’s Rump” and “Devil’s hill,” rises that remarkable formation, which is visible a great distance from the sea, called Table Mountain, four thousand feet high, and level on the top. The weather is nearly always unsettled, but a blow may be expected when the inhabitants remind you that the “cloth is spread” on Table mountain, which is suddenly covered with a thick white cloud, which curls over the steep face of the mountain, and extends itself down it, as a deep snow from the roof of a house when the melting begins. When this continues, the ships in the harbor, which is a very unsafe one, look to their moorings, and are frequently driven ashore. The day after our arrival we were compelled to change our berth: the old Mississippi reared and plunged at her anchors like an impatient steed endeavoring to slip his rein, and at night the royal mail steamer Bosphorus broke from her moorings and went ashore. We were unable to go to her assistance because the weather had prevented our getting any coal aboard.

CAPE OF GOOD HOPE.

As your boat approaches the mole, you pass through large flocks of the black gull and cormorant, and nearer the shore, groups of the pelican are feeding. Should a southeast wind prevail when you reach the wharf, you will scarcely be able to see the place. Dense clouds, not of dust, but of coarse red sand, fill the streets, and are borne in fitful eddies around the corners. It fills your eyes, if you are so rash as to open them but for a second, your ears, nostrils, and insinuates itself underneath every garment that you wear; you are doing the penance of walking with gravel under your sock, although sandal-shoon be on. The male residents who move about wear veils attached to their hats, but to a stranger the annoyance is horrible. During the prevalence of this wind, the houses are closed as well as they may be, but it is insufficient to keep out the plague. In the parlor-windows of an English hotel at which I dined, the dust had accumulated in a morning to the thickness of velvet, and from the front of the house I saw a Hottentot servant removing the sand piled on the pavement, as we would a small snow-drift in our own country.

But when you can open your eyes, strange-looking people and strange things meet them. At the hotel, you were waited upon by Bengalese servants, with their fantastically-wound turbans of cashmere nearly the size of a market-basket, their blue gowns reaching to the knee, tied with red riband in front, making their waist appear just under their arms, and moving so stealthily with their bare feet, as they came and went, that you were not conscious of their presence. In the streets you see the high-cheeked-bone Malay, the emaciated-looking cooley, and the red-capped, half-naked, simial-faced Hottentot, whom the mistaken philanthropy of English law has removed from the authority of the Dutch boor, that they may go lower in the scale of humanity. By you wheels some lately-arrived cockney in one of the patent safety cabs from London, the driver perched behind, and slowly following comes a lumbering wagon, its tents covering some large casks, it may be, drawn by sixteen or eighteen yoke of the enormous horned oxen of this colony, who are ever reminded of the proximity of their Hottentot driver, by his unceasing guttural calls and the continual application of his immense whip, whose lash, after being whirled in air an instant, he can cause to descend with unfailing accuracy on the back of any particular ox in his team, though he be a leader. In the windows of the stores you notice the graceful feathers of the ostrich, and its eggs; elephants’ tusks, and those too of the wild boar left in the skull; and the skins of the leopard and lion, remind you that you are where “Afric’s sunny,” &c. Innumerable jargons salute your ear as you move about.

On a bright Saturday morning, a Malay, with a good coach and four very good horses, drove a party of us out to Constantia, famous for the making of the celebrated wine of that name. The distance from town is about nine miles, and the road a very good one. You pass through long rows of the pine-tree, which I saw planted for ornamental effect for the first time, and here and there you see the native silver-tree, its bright leaves glistening prettily in the sun. The residences on the route are very cosy-looking, and much taste is displayed in laying off the approaches to them. A house not long before occupied by Sir Harry Smith, while governor of the colony, was a very attractive place.

The proprietors of the wine-producing establishments are very polite in their receptions and show you over their places with pleasure. We visited their brightly white-washed and steep-thatched roofed wine-houses, in whose extended walls were seen the huge wine butts like those of Madeira, but filled with the thicker-bodied and sweeter Pontac and Frontenac. The wine-house of Mr. Cloete has on its front quite a well-executed bacchanalian scene in basso-relievo, and was erected in 1793. The roofs of their houses are steep and smoothly thatched, which covering is said to last for forty years, without the accident of fire, of which they are very careful. The decorations of their grounds are tasty, and the sire, bending outward the limbs of the oak when young, leaves a canopied place for table and chairs in the centre of its branches, for the son.

The mode of cultivating the grape for the production of wine at Constantia is peculiar. They use no arbor for the support of the vines, but sustain them, a small distance from the ground, with sticks. When the fruit has reached maturity, the leaves are cut away to permit its being reached by the rays of the sun, and is only plucked for pressing when it has become nearly as sweet as a raisin; hence the taste of the wine, its high value, and its body.

During our stay at Cape Town, the Kaffir war still continued, and on our way back from Constantia, we drove to the little settlement of Wynberg to take a look at the captive Kaffir chief Seyolo, whom the English had confined in the prison at that place. We found the prisoner in a small cell, a stalwart woolly-headed negro, not of the darkest complexion, standing six feet one and three quarters inches high. His dress consisted of a lit cigar, and a single blanket thrown round his person. His wife, Niomese, with a good countenance and very small hands and feet, was with him. In an adjoining cell was his chief counsellor and his wife. They appeared quite cheerful and decidedly lazy. When the unintelligent face and elongated heel of Seyolo, was considered, it was a matter of surprise, how such a creature could have exercised with any force the power of command, or displayed any strategic skill to the annoyance of the English; but it was said that he had not been anything like as troublesome to the colonists as a withered-legged Kaffir chief named Sandilli, who having been once taken and turned out on his parole, would be shot in obedience to the sentence of a drum-head courtmartial, if again captured. The accounts from the seat of hostilities, during the time we lay at Cape Town were very unpropitious, owing to the severe fatigue and exhaustion which the hale hearty soldiers in their illy-adapted uniform, were compelled to undergo in bush-fighting or climbing steep places in pursuit of the alert and fleet-footed Kaffir, while with the best protection that could be extended to the kraals of the settlers, their cattle were continually being driven off by the thieving enemy.

A stroll through the botanical garden remunerates one very well. The exotics are rare and tastefully displayed, while the Fuchias and the Cape Jasmin laden the air with sweet perfume. The wheat of the colony is ground in steam-mills situated in the midst of the city.

Having had the good fortune to have such weather as we could coal ship in, and also employed carpenters to build frames for the protection of our fire-room hatches, against the water which might extinguish our fires, should we have the misfortune to undergo one of the severe gales that are so frequently met with in the ocean which we had to traverse before reaching our next port, we sent our letter-bag to a merchant-ship bound to Boston, raised anchor on the 3d of February, and steamed away out, passing the Lion’s Rump, False Bay, and Cape Hanglip, bound to the Isle of France, or as now called, the Mauritius. On getting a short distance from the place we encountered a mountainous, foamless swell, which did not break, but rolled up to a very great height with regularity. Our ship was sluggish in the extreme, and when we slid slowly down into the trough of the sea, the wave before and behind us was apparently as high as our mizzen top. The colors of a ship hoisted at her mizzen peak, but only a short way off, at times, were entirely shut in from our view by the swell. If this sea had only broken it would have proved the propriety of the old Dutch name for the cape—“the Stormy cape.” In rounding the cape the fate of the unfortunate “Birkenhead,” an English transport steamer, lost off it some years ago by running on a sunken rock, came to mind; and we also thought of the collected bravery of the large number of troops on board of her. It is one thing to face death from the belching mouth of cannon or the deadly rifle, for then a man is hurried on by the clangor and excitement of the strife, and moves under the illusory belief that makes more than half the soldiers of the world, that somebody else may be killed, but that he will not. But what is to be said in praise of the placid courage of the poor soldiers on the Birkenhead, who, with death inevitable, not amid “the sulphurous canopy,” but death from the yawning wave facing them, yet fell into rank at the roll of drum, as if on a dress-parade, and sank into the yesty deep with the engulfed vessel, patterns of discipline and martyrs to duty.

We ran to the eastward for some days for the purpose of getting a favorable wind and then headed northward for our port. The weather continued rough and disagreeable. The anti-scorbutic notions of the commander-in-chief—although we were not a sailing vessel liable to be out of port for any considerable length of time, but a steamer whose necessity for coal would require short runs, caused to be put on board of us before leaving Cape Town, twelve of the large, wide horned cape-bullocks, and a number of the cape-sheep with tails as wide as a dinner plate. The stalls of the larger cattle were on the forecastle and on the quarter-deck, tied up to the halyard racks. When the ship rolled heavily, the noise of these poor animals endeavoring to conform to her movement, or disturbed by the men in getting at the ropes which their large horns covered, and their continued tramping over the heads of those below deck, was of course increasing the comfort of shipboard hugely. Then during a rough night although cleats had been nailed on the deck to steady them, some steer would tumble down and dislocate his thigh, requiring the butcher’s axe to despatch him next morning. On the port side of the “quarter-deck,” y’clepted, I believe, in the time of Drake, the “king’s walk,” the impromptu bleating of the sheep from a fold made by lashing oars from the breach of one gun to another, was quite mellifluous.

If the necessity had arisen of fighting the ship, overboard would have to go the beef-cattle: if the ship had been required to salute a superior command met on the sea, the orders would have been given, perhaps, as follows: “Starboard (look out for the bull) fire!” “Port (you’ll get kicked) fire!” “Starboard (don’t hurt those sheep) fire!” &c. The efficiency of the ship for war purposes was seriously impaired, if not destroyed, during their presence.

Two days from port, the anti-scurvy idea still predominant, punch made with ship’s whiskey and lime juice, was served out to the crew, but many an old shell-back as he took his tot, looked as if he would have preferred the ardent minus the other ingredients.

On the 14th of February we discovered a tant vessel to the windward of us. It proved to be a steamer under sail alone, her engines out of gear and dragging her wheels. She stood down in our direction as if desirous of speaking us, and many expressed much surprise at our not stopping, but all at once we had stopped, and the stranger shot across our stern. In answer to the hail, “What ship is that?” the reply was: “Her majesty’s steamer Styx, bound to the Mauritius; please report us under sail.” Our stopping was involuntary, a screw of one of the “cut-offs” to our engines having come out, which was promptly fixed with a block of wood by one of the admirable engineers which it was the good fortune of the Mississippi to have; so that we were ready to go ahead again in a very few minutes. The Englishman, no doubt, was none the wiser for the belief that we stopped in courtesy to him.

The weather just before reaching Mauritius was much smoother than it had been; the sun now came up upon the right, and his going down in the Indian ocean at night, was a sight most beautiful to look upon, its whole bosom bathed in fiery floods, and way above, tower above tower, rose in radiance and glory illuminated clouds. When our band’s best strains were filling the ship at evening and these sights preceded night, we could hardly realize that we were in the Indian ocean—the ocean of squalls, calms, heavy rains, gale, storm, and hurricane.

CHAPTER IV.

About 11 o’clock on our fifteenth morning out from the Cape of Good Hope, the southwestern end of the island of Mauritius was visible from the masthead, and we put on all our furnaces so as to reach Port Louis before night. On approaching the land we ran for two hours, past highly-tilled fields encompassing the cosy houses of the planters, sloping to the water’s edge in living green. As we neared the small crescent on which is built the little town of Port Louis, we were boarded by two English harbor-masters, who conducted us to our anchorage, and assisted in mooring the ship head and stern, as the place is too contracted for a vessel of any size to swing in. Their costume showed the philosophy which John Bull always carries into torrid temperatures. They were dressed in white linen roundabouts, pants and shoes, and on their heads were wide-brimmed hats, made of the pith of a tree and covered with white. We had gotten the ship secured just about the time a gun from one of the forts nigh us, announced the hour to be 8 o’clock. I sat upon the wheel-house looking at the necklace of lights that marked the town; the moon as if moved by the notes of our band which was playing delightfully “Katy Darling,” and the “Old Folks at Home,” seemed to rise more rapidly, and as it came it displayed the lofty outline of Peter Botte mountain, of Penny Magazine memory; the tall palms that fringed the beach on the right looked more stately and graceful in the silver light, and the scene altogether was so enchanting, that no one who looked upon it, could keep from feeling Bernardin-St.-Pierreish.

At daylight next morning we got a look at Port Louis. The town is not extensive, though nestling prettily under tall volcanic hills. Its suburbs are composed of the red-roofed huts of liberated Africans, making long streets. In its bazar, like nearly all places in that portion of the globe, your attention is first arrested by the grotesque—the kaleidoscope of costume. Of course your ubiquitous pig-tail friend “John Chinaman” is present. Here he attires himself in dark nankeen clothes, wears his clumsy shoe without sock, twists his plaited queue under a Manilla hat, and with his Paul Pry umbrella which he seldom hoists, looks as much like another “John Chinaman” who passes him, as two bricks in a house. You see the Arab with his head entirely shorn, or the dark-haired Lascar most diminutive in loin wardrobe, but gaudy in the vest that covers his fine-formed chest; the Parsee clothed in his gown of white muslin, his turban and pointed shoes; the Malayan women in very brief attire, their children strapped on their backs, sitting on the wayside, chewing the areca-nut or the betel-leaf that they may spit blood-red saliva, and none the better looking for having a large ring fastened through the skin of their foreheads, or hanging from one nostril. These people are all very graceful in their movements. Their religions are comprised in Mohammedanism, Buddhism, Hindoo, &c. They number some six thousand of the population of the place.

I had a pleasant drive into the country, over fine English roads, Macadamized with volcanic stone by chain gangs. Our fancy-turbaned Lascar driver kept up the while a noise like that of our swamp-sparrows, to encourage his horses. We saw the large fields of sugar-cane, rustling in their deep green, with here and there the tall white chimneys of a sugar-house, or the painted roofs of the chateaus of the Creole, who live very luxuriously, rising in the midst of the promising crops, whose aggregate yield it was thought would be one hundred and sixty millions of pounds of sugar. The foliage that encroaches on the roadside with its luxuriance, or stretches way back to the base of the steep volcanic hills in sight, says “Tropical, tropical;” “the acacia waves her yellow hair,” you have the wide-spreading banyan, the tall rough barked cocoa, the cabbage-tree—its branches interlocked, the banana, the plantain, the ever-graceful palm,— each one of its leaves large enough to make a fan; and then too the traveller’s tree, which on being tapped, affords the weary and athirst a substitute for water. Underneath this mass of rank green, you notice the straight-stemmed aloe with its graceful top-knot, and in the hedges that porcupine plant, the cactus, whose prickly leaf and long thorn, prevent the hump-backed, or Hindoo cattle of the country from getting in the fields of green cane. Then the birds are beautiful to see: the pure white boatswain, the noisy little paroquet, the black frigate bird, and the pretty little cardinal with his feather cowl.

The morning scene along the roads is at all times animated. With his proverbial industry, in rope-harness, one John Chinaman is pulling and another John Chinaman is pushing, heavy burdens in a small wagon; or, footing it in a trot to the town, with his bamboo-baskets strapped on shoulder, goes the chicken-merchant with his juvenile Shanghaes. Walking past you in groups, their hands clasped one with another, or stretched on their back, the rays of the sun kept off by the shady branches of the palm, or sitting under a roof made of its leaves, having his head shaved, or the hairs of his moustache plucked out here and there, to make the outline more graceful, is the semi-denuded and meat-hating Lascar.

This is a very small picture.

I visited the village of “Pamplemouses,” where is situated the church—as the delightful story, hath it —in which worshipped the mother of Paul and the mother of Virginia. Not far from this building, in the grounds of a resident, placed on either side of an artificial lake containing red and gold fish, are two square cemented pedestals, surmounted by rude urns, entirely overgrown with the pretty “Pride of Barbadoes.” These are the tombs of Paul and Virginia—so said the good old lady who accompanied us to the sentimental spot, and called our attention to the fact that they were drowned, when these cocoa, palm, and camphor trees around, were not so large as now. Mauritius being an English colony, of course we paid a shilling. Some sentimental Laura Matilda perhaps “in tears and white muslin,” has striven for affectionate immortality, by writing on the tomb of Virginia, in a rather masculine hand, her name; and also lets admiring gazers know, that when she is “to hum,” she is in Massachusetts.

Next you have a view of Tomb Bay, where the young unfortunate went to her death by shipwreck, and after thinking about the height of the breakers, and the hardness of the coral reef, you soothe the fervid mood by a stroll through one of the most attractive botanical gardens that the whole East presents. The sun poured down his hottest rays, but the lofty and strange trees that meet above your head, as a Gothic archway, afford shade, and the great moisture produced under foot, by this exclusion of the sun, brings up a thick green moss, so you walk on a thick velvet carpet, while on both sides of you, rivulets of clear water run gurgling all the time. Whether there was ever such people as the two little loving recipients of morality, Paul and Virginia, or not, or that the Saint Giran was ever wrecked, it is a beautiful spot apart from the story.

But there is reality as well as romance in the Isle of France; the present owner, John Bull, supplies it. On the iron gateway under which you pass, in landing, is “Victoria Regina,” and Victoria Regina levies heavy taxes on the planters. A walk on the esplanade shows you a fence of half-buried cannon—the trophies of the English when they captured the island from the French. In front of the house of the governor, who gets ten thousand dollars more salary than our president, red-coats continually mount guard. Policemen throng the streets in the same uniform I saw in Canada, and in the barrack is quartered a fine regiment of fusiliers to keep the people in subjection.

The island, like others in the Indian ocean, has suffered from hurricanes; the cane may be most promising in the field, but destroyed before garnered. The most violent hurricane they ever had, piled three hundred houses of Port Louis in ruins, and stranded thirty ships in its harbor.

The Portuguese, the discoverers of the island, called it Cerni; the Dutch who came afterward, “Mauritius,” after Prince Maurice of Holland; and the French, Isle of France. In the Champ de Mars, a fine open plain, where the regimental bands play, the troops drill, and the pretty Creole women take their evening drives and promenades, I noticed a very tasteful tomb of a French governor, Malartie, which was finished by the munificence of Sir William Gomm, an English governor.

Four days after our arrival, being the anniversary of the birthday of the Father of our Country, our ship was appropriately dressed with our national ensign, and at mid-day we fired a salute of twenty-one guns, in which the English man-of-war, the “Styx,” which had reached port, would have joined us, but an order from the admiralty forbids the firing of salutes by their national vessels unless their battery reaches a certain number of guns.

We reached Mauritius just in time to enjoy its pleasant fruits, consisting of the pine-apple, the banana, the plantain, the mangoe, and the alligator pear, which could be plentifully obtained from the fruit boats that flocked around the ship; and then, too, before breakfast, we drained the cocoa’s milky bowl.

With a pleasant remembrance of the hospitalities received from the people of Mauritius, we left Port Louis for Point de Galle, on the 25th of February.

We had a run before us of two thousand five hundred miles, and expected in the stormy ocean we had to traverse, to meet with rough weather on the passage, perhaps one of those dreaded typhoons; and that its approach might be indicated at the earliest possible moment, our barometer had been compared with the standard one in the observatory at Mauritius, whose able and persevering superintendent is devoting himself to the advance of meteorological information in that quarter of the globe, and the increase of nautical science, like our own Maury. His name is Bosquet, and, at the time of our visit, he was preparing a moveable index card, showing the various quadrants of a revolving gale or cyclone, which must prove of great benefit to the practical navigator in those seas. We had a smooth sea during the run, hot weather, and a light head wind. When General Pierce was taking the oath of office, on the 4th of March, our nine o’clock lights were extinguished.

CHAPTER V.

About nine o’clock of the night of the 10th of March, the lookout in the top sang out, “Light, ho!” which we knew must be on the island of Ceylon. The entrance to the harbor of Point de Galle, being quite narrow, we endeavored to get such soundings as would enable us to come to anchor until daybreak, but not succeeding in this, the ship’s head was put off shore, and we lay-to for the night.

That most ancient and quasi-veracious traveller, Sir John Mandeville, who had great injustice wrought him by the wits of his day, I think it was, who, in speaking of the approach to Ceylon said, that the spicy odor therefrom could be smelt long before “the land thereof might be discerned from the tallest masthead of a ship.” If this be true, Sir John, great changes have taken place in these latter days. We did not detect anything unusually odoriferous in the atmosphere; and I subsequently found that one might walk through a cinnamon grove without being attracted by the scent, as the cinnamon proper is hermetically sealed by a kind of epidermis bark, which has to be removed before it is gotten at. The nutmeg, with the mace around it, at first of a deep-red color, is enveloped in a covering as thick as the enclosure of the stone of the apricot, and on the tree resembles this fruit before ripening. The “spicy breezes” blow very “softly o’er Ceylon’s isle.”

CEYLON.

The next morning, having gotten a pilot, we ran into the harbor of Point de Galle, which is a very contracted one, though quite secure, surrounded by groves of the tall cocoa-tree, which nearly conceal the town. The town, built by the Portuguese, is entirely walled in and fortified; and since its capture by the English its defences have been increased. It occupies a space equal in extent to Fortress Monroe, and was garrisoned by a native rifle regiment, with English officers, and a small number of royal artillery. These Ceylonese troops are said to show a ferocity of courage when in battle, and the arms of their light-complexioned commanders frequently have to be resorted to, to make them cease firing when the order is given. Point de Galle is now one of the stopping-places for the peninsula and oriental mail steamers en route to China, and the isthmus of Suez. There are two other ports on the island: that of Colombo, celebrated for its pearl-fisheries and white elephants, and that of Trincomalee, from which a great quantity of the teak-wood is brought.

We had scarcely anchored when the ship was surrounded by native canoes, called d’honies, which, at a little distance, resemble planks edgewise upon the water, fifteen or twenty feet in length. They are hollowed out of logs so narrow, that the paddling occupant usually keeps one leg dangling over the side. To prevent their capsizing, a solid log, much less in size and length, pointed at both ends, is placed about ten feet off and parallel with the boat. This is connected with the boat by arched bamboo poles, and forms an out-rigger. A paddle propels them very easily, and they sail quite fast.

These boats were filled with Indiamen and Ceylonese, who would have been dressed if they had only had some garment from the slice of cotton about the loin, up to their neck or down to the heel. In a short time our decks were filled with them; also Mussulmen and Arabs, with their small oval caps and vests, exposing breast and arms, and others wearing kerchiefs of all manner of gaudy colors wrapped about them and hanging to the knees like a skirt. But the thing that strikes you with the most singularity is, that the men whose heads are not shaved, wear their hair in a knot like women, secured to the back of the head with a large tortoise-shell comb. These fellows “salam” you, and their salutation is extremely servile. Some of them come for your clothes—they are washermen, and return your garments with remarkable quickness for the East. Others pull out of their kummerbunds at the waist a lot of what they call precious stones, and say, “Wantshee, me have got good mooney stones—star stones, ruby, cat’s-eye stone, sapphire,” &c.

“Where every prospect pleases,

And only man is vile!”

The “prospect” of being cheated is not a pleasant one at any time; and these men are very “vile.” The fellow will hold the precious jewel to the light, and in the dark, vary its position, rub it, and praise it with great earnestness and sincerity, but should you be verdant enough to purchase the gem, even at half the estimate set upon it by him of the land of Golconda, an ordinary rat-tail file will very soon assure you that you have got a fine specimen of cut-glass. The genuine, or precious stones, are bought up by agents and sent to London. Should their sales grow very slack they are most desirous of trading for any old clothes you may have—oriental and old clothes!

I landed as soon as I could, after our salute, on the jutty, from which Mr. Barnum’s elephants had been shipped, and passing through a walled gate, entered the town, the sun shining down fiercely. The houses were of a yellow stucco, very low, without glass in the windows, generally, and their doors concealed behind mat screens. In my stroll in the direction of a fine new lighthouse, terminating a picturesque point where the sea continually breaks sullenly, my attention was attracted by a very long, notched white flag, with a number of smaller ones on the sides, hanging from a tall mast. On going toward it, I found it was placed at the entrance of a walled enclosure, which contained a mosque and Mussulman school. Fronting the door of the mosque was a pool of not the clearest water, enclosed in handsome masonry. While I stood there, many of the devout, among whom I saw a blind man, came in and washed their hands and face, to say nothing of abluting their dentals, previous to proceeding to their devotions inside the building; while in the interior were a number kneeling on mats, then sitting back on their bare feet, the palms of the hands meanwhile resting on the knees, occasionally striking their forehead against the tesselated floor, facing in the direction of Mecca. Their pointed, clog-like sandals they had left outside. I was told I could enter if I would remove my pedal covering, but I declined. Removing one’s boots after a long walk, in a temperature of ninety odd, is not exactly the thing. I asked, quizzically, a long-bearded old Mussulman standing by, who understood English, whether he had any idols in his temple. He replied quickly: “No; there is but one God: we worshipped your Savior and turned our faces to Jerusalem, until Mahomet our Savior came—now we turn our faces to Mecca.” Pointing to a Hindoo temple, he remarked: “They have idols over there, but we are not allowed even to eat or drink anything when we are near these buildings.”

In a low stone edifice adjacent to this mosque I glanced in at a school, where fifteen or twenty infantile scholars of both sexes whose wardrobe complete consisted of ankle, waist, and wrist rings, and pendent little silver ornaments, squatted on mats. In their midst, a la Turk, sat a shaven-headed, long-bearded Mussulman, chewing the betel-leaf and areca-nut, and uplifting at intervals the rod of correction, which was more effective than the ferula of the Christian, owing to the scanty costume of the juvenile recipients of Mohammedan morality. The scholars were engaged in writing with bamboo pens, on boards covered with a clay preparation, passages from the Koran, which was lying open upon a little stand in front of the red-saliva pedagogue. When he turned a leaf of his sacred book, he did it with a portion of his white garment, never touching the page with the naked hand. It appeared to be a free jabber on the part of the tender nudes, in Arabic, but if a sentence was missed by one, down came the Damocletian ratan, and the humanity of breeches rushed with full force on the mind. The kind heart of Dame Partington would have been greatly grieved, and she would have philanthropically exclaimed, “Bless the inventor of clothing.” And “bless the inventor of clothing;” the vitiated taste that can find nothing repulsive in an exact marble nudity, which, in the flesh of the original would be thought with Dogberry, “most tolerable and not to be endured,” would be most fully satiated—gorged—after continually looking upon the half-clad and garmentless people of the East, no matter how fine their figures. He will certainly become of the opinion that dress is a part and parcel of a woman, and that she is never so engaging in appearance as when clad in Christian garments. “Greek slaves” in bronze don’t answer.

One is struck with the fullness, beauty, and glossiness of the hair of the natives, especially when he bears in mind, that those who do not shave their heads, walk uncovered under the hot sun of their clime. I had some curiosity to find out the secret of this. They use on their hair twice a-week the juice of limes, obtained by boiling them, and then dress it with an oil pressed cold from the queen cocoa, scented with “citronella,” a very singular and powerful perfume which they distil on the island. Sixty drops of the citronella is sufficient to perfume a bottle of the oil of considerable size.

Should you sleep ashore at the hotel, you are awoke at an early hour and informed that “bathing” is ready. Accoutred in a Lazarus-like robe, generally known as a sheet, you bid the heathen lead the way, and you follow to an outhouse constructed of bamboo and mats. Here two fellows pour cold water over you from copper “monkeys,” in such quick succession, that the most inexorable disciple of Priessnitz, would be soon forced to cry peccavi. Encased in the Lazarus garment you flee into your chamber. You are pursued here by a heathen, who tells you “me barber,” and proceeds to shave one side of the face at a time, shampoos your head with lime-juice, and then withdraws in favor of another idol-worshipping attendant, who mollifies you with a cup of fine coffee. The pleasant persecution over, you sleep again.

The news is conveyed from Point de Galle to Colombo by a pigeon-express, none of your “fly away to my native land, sweet dove,” business, with billet-doux, and riband around neck, but despatches, which are tied to the feet of the bird, who in flying draws them up under him, and in that way the paper is kept from a wetting, should it rain. The birds from one point are sent to the other by a coach, and not being fed in this strange cote, upon being turned out with their despatch they fly home. They fly seventy-two miles in an hour and three quarters.

This is an outline of modern Ceylon. The men who “bow down to wood and stone” here will tell you, that the footprints of a man, in stone, on the top of a mountain, is the footprint of their God, where he stepped over to the main land; but it is called Adam’s Peak, and the Mussulmen say that Adam and Eve dwelt there. They will tell you that Paradise was in the Seventh Heaven, and that Adam and Eve were expelled by the command, “Get you down, the one of you an enemy to the other, and there shall be a dwelling-place for you on earth.” Adam fell on Ceylon, or Suendib, and Eve at Joddah on the Red sea, and after two hundred years the angel Gabriel conducted Adam to where Eve was, and they came and dwelt in Ceylon.

Before leaving Point de Galle, a green boat came alongside, bearing an elephant flag, out of which came the captain of a Siamese man-of-war, to pay a visit of courtesy. He was quite a young-looking man, dressed in a red jacket with a yellow silk skirt. Behind him walked an attendant bearing a pearl box in his hand. One of our midshipmen thought this must contain his “character.” As he spoke but Siamese, and our commodore did not speak Siamese, the interview must have been quite satisfactory.

On the 15th of March we left Point de Galle, and headed across the bay of Bengal, in the direction of the northwest end of Sumatra. We did not take in our entire quantity of coal at Ceylon, but got on board fifty tons of the wood of the place, to try the experiment of its burning in our furnaces. It did not answer; the expense of consumption per hour was twenty dollars, while coal would have been about six, and producing less steam, while it induced greater danger of setting fire to the ship. In our run across the bay of Bengal we had a smooth sea, hot weather, and moonlight nights. In five days we were off the island of Nicobar, and entered the straits of Malacca, the weather changing to squally and rainy. Here we passed the English oriental mail-steamer from China, having on board commodore Aulick, whose late command of the East India squadron was soon to be assumed by the commodore aboard of our ship. Our run through the straits of Malacca was not signalized by any remarkable incidents. We saw the shore on either hand at times; passed in sight of the English East India penal settlement, Pulo-Penang, and close aboard of some most lovely tropical islands, anchored at night, and caught some red fish; made lay to, and frightened half to death, the captain of a Malay boat, called a parrigue, who had been manœuvring very suspiciously about nine at night, by firing a couple of muskets at him; and received and returned a salute. This was the English frigate Cleopatra, in tow of an East India Company’s steamer, one day’s run from Singapore. As they neared, the frigate broke stops with an American flag at the fore, and let slip with twenty-one guns. The old Mississippi was not to be caught napping, and although we had to lower away our quarter boats to prevent their injury by the concussion from our large guns, we soon had flying the English ensign at the fore, and replied with twenty-one. It is not the greater part of a century, that an American man-of-war would have been allowed to pass without any such national courtesy being shown by an Englishman. As the two vessels passed under our stern and stood on their way, our band gave them in its best style, “God save the Queen!”

At one o’clock in the day we were boarded by a native pilot, who brought from the consul at Singapore a letter-bag for us. It was the first news we had gotten directly, since leaving the United States, then out eighty days, and almost antipodal to our homes, and no one but he who has experienced it can appreciate fully the joy of getting a letter at such a time. It was the first that had come to me away from my own land, and I could have hallooed.

In the afternoon we rounded in among some beautiful islands, standing like verdure indexes to the harbor, and soon after anchored in the English free port of Singapore, about two miles from the shore.

And first the boats—yes, the boats. There are no more characteristic things of a people than their water vehicles. The enormous “Himalaya” steamship is the card that Great Britain sends out upon the ocean; the magnificent clipper-ships of our own America, as they ride at anchor in the “gorgeous East,” or the world over, as impatient steeds to break their tether, not in comparison, but outstripping by contrast far the naval architecture of any other people, do not evince the onward and upward march of the United States, more fully than does the stupid, cumbersome, unsightly junk, show the inertia of the opinionated Mongolian.

The Malay boats around the ship soon after we arrived, were most symmetrical in proportion, and pretty to look at. They are “dug-outs,” rather crank, but beautifully and sharply modelled. The song of the native rowers is quite strange, and far from unpleasing. The man who sits behind you in the sharp stern, steering with a paddle, pitches his voice, and gives the key-note of the “barbaric pearl” ditty (that is, I supposed, it must have been something about barbaric pearls), goes on with the burden, and the two rowers amidships, rather indifferent to the fact that the unsteadiness of their boat does not suit you, musically chorus, “A—lah! A—lah! El—lel—la!” Their larger boats called prahus, with their graceful latine sails, move with great rapidity through the water, and are said to be as elegantly modelled as any yacht “America.” Indeed, some are of the opinion that the fast modern pleasure-boat, owes its origin to the prahus of the Malay.

Thackeray, in his “Cornhill to Cairo,” has most pleasantly and truly described the keen relish which is afforded to travel if one could be taken up, and suddenly translated—or immersed as it were—among a people entirely different in complexion, habit, and costume, from his own. Unfortunately you are deprived of this in the East; your arrival at one place is continually anticipating another; and so at Singapore, most unwillingly, you get too large a slice of the picture, too much foretaste of the grand “central,” “celestial,” “flowery,” “middle kingdom,” though in a few days’ run of China. The first thing that met our gaze, laying in shore of us, their unsightly masts unshipped, their large sails under cover, their high stems and decks in the shadow of mats and bamboo, waiting for a change of the monsoon that they might go back to Quangtung or Fungching, were moored the ungainly Chinese junks. Of course, as is invariably the case, even on their smaller boats, from either side of the square bow peers the big painted eye; and if the stranger should be curious enough to inquire why they are put there, the matter-of-fact Chinaman, with a “Hy-yah,”—more expressive than the shoulder shrug of the Frenchman—would make answer, “No hab eye, how can see?”

On landing, the Chinese features of the place are found to predominate over all others, though the population of the town is also composed of English merchants, Malays, Arabs, Jews, Parsees, Hindoos, &c., amounting in all to about forty thousand. You no sooner put foot on the stairs that lead from the little bridged river, which equally divides the city, than your ears are filled with the interminable banging of gongs, more terrific than those which broke on the tympanum of Mr. Benjamin Bowbell when he was going to be buried alive with an Eastern princess. If a Chinese funeral is progressing, the gong is heard, if some mart has just been opened, or a public sale is to take place, beat the gong, and at sundown from the junk, “Joss” is “chin-chinn’d” by gong-beating. The streets present a scene of much bustle and activity, and traversing them are the most grotesque and picturesque oriental costumes—the large tassel pendent from the Fez cap of the Parsee, of as bright a scarlet, or his loose vest of as deep a blue, and the handle of his pipe just as long, as others that I had seen at prior places.

On the eastern side of the town, fronting on a fine parade or drive, are the residences principally of the Europeans, with the exception of some who have their bungaloes near the suburbs. Here are also situated government-offices, a very plain-looking Protestant church, whose swinging fans mitigate the intense heat to the worshipping congregation; a very fine hotel, under whose pleasant mahogany—located in arbored buildings, kept cool by moving punkas—we so agreeably placed our knees, to enjoy fine fruits, and for a time, keep from the rays of a torrid sun; and a pyramidal column, whose inscription tells in English, Arabic, and Hindostanee, how grateful the people there resident are for the service rendered them, while a prominent member of the East India Company’s government, by one Earl Dalhousie. He may be a scion of Pope’s

“Next comes Dalhousie,” &c.

On the esplanade, when the sun pales his fire in the evening, a tesselated group composed of the juvenile cockney, the Cingalese, the Parsee, and, of course, “John Chinaman,” take their evening promenade, while the wealthier natives who have been snoozing all day come out in their gigs for a drive. Those of more moderate pretensions, who can muster a halfrupee, get into a palanquin—pronounced palankee—for the purpose. These are small four-wheeled vehicles with mat cushions, capable of holding four persons. The turbaned and waist-scarfed Lascar driver, though he has a seat apportioned him, and sufficient reins, prefers coiling them over his arms, takes his little horse by the cheek of the bit, and running beside him, continually encourages him into a gallop. Some meddling English, with accompanying mistaken philanthropy, endeavored to get an order passed by which the dear syces should be made to save themselves fatigue and ride on their seats, but the dear syces preferred their old custom, and protested strongly against any such innovation. About a mile from the settlement are a large collection of houses occupied by the Malays, who, although under the protection of the English, still continue their custom of building their houses over the water, elevated on posts and separately, that they may feel freer from attack, or the visits of live animals. These latter they have not much to dread now. Singapore is on an island separated from the main land by a narrow strip of water, and tigers sometimes swim over, but they are soon despatched, as the government pays a reward of a hundred dollars for each one killed. On my ride to this point I passed some tombs of former rajahs, and also saw a number of wooden houses that were being fitted up for shipment to Australia. We stopped at a factory where that pleasant farina, sago, was being prepared. It is made from the pith of a tree; is first placed in vats that it may become dissolved, then exposed to the sun to dry, after which any foreign substance is removed by sifting, when it is packed, ready for exportation, at three dollars and sixty cents per pecul. The proprietor was a very polite and good-natured old Chinaman; by-the-by, nearly all Chinamen are very good-natured: kick “John Chinaman,” and smile as you do it, and he will smile too; do it with a frown, and he becomes very indignant. The old fellow had the customary number of hogs, whose quarters, whatever may be said of the want of cleanliness of their celestial owner’s house, receive great attention.

Not far from here we went through the ward of a hospital for English sailors, and also another for Chinese, whose inmates were lying on elevated and inclined shelves, the victims of every terrible disease of the climate.

The Joss-house at Singapore is as fine, though it may be not as large, as any to be seen in China. An elaborately-designed and gaudily-ornamented pagoda, of colored porcelain, rises from its centre; its doorway is guarded by two gorgons dire, in a sitting posture, in whose snarling mouths large balls have been ingeniously carved, so that you may place your hand between the teeth and roll them about, yet the whole is cut from a block of blue flinty granite. The court and alley are paved with colored porcelain tiles, while the altar and the sleepy idol that fills its rear, are decorated expensively and fantastically. One of the wings of this temple, from which issued a more cook-shop than savory smell, I noticed was appropriated as a kind of popular restaurant, and filled with Chinamen down to the lower cooly, all seated at small tables, uttering their mushy jargon, and bolting with chop-sticks the boiled paddy. Their proximity to their “Joss-pigeon” neither restrained their appetites nor their noisiness. “John Chinaman” will tell you that “Joss” (a word which they are supposed to have gotten by a corruption of “Dios” from their Portuguese neighbors at Macao) is a very good man, but that there is no reason why he should have a large temple all to himself. Opposite the temple I saw the first Chinese “Sing-Song,” a street-theatre, made by the elevation of a staging of bamboos covered with mats. Upon “these our players,” gaudily attired, and accompanied by caterwauling instruments and “tom-toms,” appear to the infinite delight of their street auditors, who guffaw loud their approval, as they stand protected from the sun under their paper umbrellas.

At Singapore is the prison in which nearly all the convicts from the possessions of the English are confined, and a collection of more villanous visages could not be met with in the walls of any other jail. Those who have been convicted of murder, have the word “Doomga”—Hindostanee for their crime— branded on their forehead. Those who have been guilty of lesser offences are put into chain-gangs, and made to keep the road in order. There was one inmate, in the person of a negro, from Long Island, who had been sentenced for fifteen years.

Singapore was established by the English as a competitor for the trade of the Dutch at Batavia, in the East Indian Archipelago, and being declared a free port, has accomplished the desired result to a very great degree. Numbers of prahus, that can play pirating or trading as the opportunity presents, come there, bringing their commodities, but principally that they may get powder and shot, to play Lambro with neighboring Dyaks. It was founded in 1819, and settled with the consent of the rajah of Johore, a part of whose possessions it was. This rajah still receives a large annuity from the English, and resides in the vicinity of the place. With a friend I drove out to his place. The building was a plain one, fronted with a verandah, and the entrance ornamented with two little brass howitzers. We were received by the rajah’s son, who spoke a little English. He was gaudily attired in turban made by wrapping a parti-colored kerchief about the head, from his side hung a handsomely-mounted dagger, and he also sported a fine gold watch. His features were quite handsome for a Malay. We were ushered into an upper room, at one end of which, on a sofa, with his feet drawn up under him, similarly attired with himself, sat his father the rajah, and his brother whom we understood to be a “sultan” of some neighboring province or country. On the table in front of them lay their krisses, the hilts inlaid with costly jewels. They were quite jolly-looking old fellows, and had a great many questions to ask about the mission on which our ship was bound, &c., but the defective translation of his son made the business of answering a slow one. Before leaving him he caused tea and sweetmeats to be brought in, and joined us quite sociably. The next day his son paid us a visit aboard ship.

On the 29th of March, we left Singapore, and in a short time were heading our course in the China sea. On the 2d of April the heat became very oppressive. What little breeze moved on the water was aft, and the steamer moving faster than it, the windsails which led to the lower quarters of the ship afforded no comfort, and hung collapsed from their halyard. Some of our firemen; whose duties always severely onerous, but particularly so in those burning latitudes, fainted as they stood in the fire-room while feeding their furnaces. Such is the exhausting effect of the climate on those engaged by the peninsular and oriental steamers, that engineers and firemen, it is said, are rotated at intervals, with those engaged on the more healthy part of the route on the other side of the isthmus of Suez. The greatest mortality among them arises from diseases of the liver.

“All Fools’ Day” is not forgotten on shipboard. The better to remember it in the younger messes, it is set apart for the celebration of the caterer’s birthday (of course the caterer is born on that day); the table is spread in the best way, and not until the caterer’s health has been proposed in sherry—“a bumpers and no heel-taps”—and the wine-glasses emptied, does the choking sensation remind the uninitiated that he has bolted a wine-glass of rather strong whiskey.

In two or three days the weather suddenly changed to blanket temperature; we ran into a heavy head sea; the spray was chilly, and the sun sank as if in the cold gray of autumn. On the morning of the 6th April, the Ladrone islands appeared in sight, and we ran into a fleet of some three hundred Chinese fishing boats—we were off the shores of the Middle Kingdom. The sight of these awkward boats, with their build, showing what travellers to Cathay have called the celestial propensity to “reverse” everything, was an interesting one. But why say the Chinese reverse? They had a national existence, when these our moderns were not even in embryo; their laws had an existence long before the code of Lycurgus was promulged, and their hieroglyphic record goes away back to a period which our own sacred revelation does not compass, so it is we who reverse. John Chinaman knows that though the stern of his boat is broad and high; that its bow runs wedge-like and low; that his masts, instead of raking aft, lean forward; and if his boat, under sail, look as if she was going to run under, still that she has borne him safely when many a “ty-fung” blew. We wished a pilot, but in answer to the inquiry whether any could furnish one, they nodded assent, and held up fish and some rice. The weather being thick we ran in under one of the Ladrones and anchored for the night in thirty fathoms water, and fired a gun for a pilot. The next morning at daybreak, we ran in and anchored in the roadstead of the old Portuguese city of Macao, about four miles from the shore. Though the turbid water all around, and the naked islands that encompassed the anchorage, did not afford a prospect calculated to prepossess one with his first glance at the “Flowery Kingdom,” still we had a feeling of gladness that after an almost uninterrupted run of over four months we had reached our goal, or the region which was to be the theatre of our movements—yes, for months.

Our stoppage was short; after communicating with the navy store-keeper and the authorities ashore, receiving an official visit from the Portuguese captain of the port, and procuring a Chinese pilot, we lifted anchor, and stood over for the more flourishing English colonial town of Hong Kong. We reached this place after doubling through denuded steep islands, about seven o’clock in the evening. The ships of the East India squadron lying in the harbor, who having had some intimation of our proximity to the station by the mail-steamers from Ceylon, were on the qui vive for our approach. The old Mississippi, with the broad pennant at her masthead, no sooner emerged from behind the western point of the island, than the “Saratoga” and “Plymouth” sloops-of-war hoisted their numbers and saluted. The storeship, “Supply,” we also found there. Our ship was soon filled by brother American officers from the other ships, come to salute and welcome old friends, and hoping that the mail-bags we had from the United States, had brought each one “good news from home.” The meetings were so joyous and so cordial that we did not remember that they were taking place on the other side of the globe. Officers from the English and French men-of-war also came aboard to pay their respects.

The oriental salute seldom consists of more than three guns, and many of the natives of the East are unable to see why this number should be fired; they can not comprehend why you should burn in compliment the same material, which you would employ in sending deadly missiles at them, if in anger. But we, Christian nations, manage things differently; and the next day after our arrival told it: from the rising to the setting of the sun nearly, it was powder burning. Upon hoisting the colors at eight o’clock we saluted the town with twenty-one guns, and twenty-one were returned by a water-battery; the French saluted us and we saluted them; then came the admiral and commodorial salutes, English and French, which were returned in the old style by letting fall fore-top sails the while; and so that day the noise of one hundred and seventy-nine guns, broke and tumbled along the naked hills of Hong Kong, with nearly as splendid an effect as at St. Helena.

The harbor of Hong Kong is a very commodious and well-sheltered one, in the shape of a half-moon, and its three entrances of Green Island, Cap-sing-moon, and Lymoon passages, can not be seen from its centre. On a shelf which makes a circular sweep, cut at the base of towering volcanic hills, is built the town named in honor of the present sovereign of Great Britain. Victoria, from the water, presents a fine appearance, with its stuccoed warehouses, or “go-downs,” at the beach, and the private residences and churches rising from plateaus made by immense labor above; and the massive stone government offices and barracks that appear on the left, tell how firmly the English plant their foot in the East, and how triumph, with them, is synonymous with occupancy of a slice of an enemy’s territory. This colony is the result of their opium war in China. Our stay was short: the commodore despatched the “Plymouth” to Shanghae, and, in the Mississippi, ran over to Macao, an inland run of thirty-nine miles.

CHAPTER VI.

We anchored in Macao roads about mid-day, perhaps on the very spot, where a sailor’s malice fired a magazine, and blew high in air, with a noise like thunder, the atoms that composed the Portuguese frigate Donna Maria, some years before. Macao, though in, is not of China; instead of the low hut-like structures of unburnt blue brick and fantastic tile of the Celestial, the eye, as it takes in the fine sweep of the Praya, rests on large mansions whose verandahs exclude the sun, whose portals are spacious and stylish, and whose stucco little discolored by time, only appears all the more impressive, and sees rising on the eminence behind venerable cathedrals; while garrisons, crown batteries, and old-looking forts on either side, with the ensign of Portugal, define its ownership, and make the picture more imposing. It was here that the zeal of the Jesuit commenced the propagation of his faith and questioned the ethics of Confucius; it was here that the “glory and shame” of Portugal—one-eyed Camoens—disgusted at the country which could neither appreciate his genius nor reward his courage, spent in voluntary exile five years of his life and completed the Lusiad—that poem which, when shipwrecked, he saved from destruction by swimming and holding it above water, and that was ultimately to meet with the worse fate of being rendered into another language by Fanshaw. It was here that the English displayed the surreptitious boldness of carrying away, by the power of arms, from Portuguese custody, a missionary who had been guilty of the bad manners and overt nonsense of offending people not his own, by a refusal of compliance with a very ordinary custom, on the occasion of a catholic procession, at a time when the authorities and the greater part of the population were witnessing a boat regatta in their harbor; and it was at the outer barrier of Macao, that its governor, a few years ago, while taking an evening ride with one of his aids, was cut to pieces by the revengeful Chinamen, because of his having caused a road to be made through one of their burial-places in the vicinity.

On anchoring, a number of us paid a visit to the shore, which was some distance, in a Chinese “fast-boat,” the ship’s boats being seldom used in those countries, both because of a sanitary regard for a ship’s company, who would suffer from long rows under a new and sickly sun, and because the Chinese conveyances are scarcely the tax of a song: a “fast-boat,” with a crew of three or four rowers, which also serves as the floating habitation of the owner and a family composed of as many more, can be employed for constant attendance on a man-of-war for a very small number of dollars per month. They are always at hand; when not going they are made fast astern, and when triangulating between Whampoa, Macao, and Hong-Kong, they follow with Ruth and Naomi constancy. Will we forget you, old Ashing?—with your punctuality and good-natured readiness, whether disturbed at your chow-chow, or called at late hour of the night? Then, too, your ever equable philosophy; the Irish pilot knew the rocks in the channel well, especially when he thumped on top of one; but your foresight, far surpassing his, always told us, in answer to the question, “Can you take us off?”—“Supposee too much no good wind, no can catchee ship: Supposee no too muchee bad wind, can catchee ship,”—which was so solacing. The name “fast-boat” is a misnomer, except when chased by a good wind, and then they move through the water, impelled by their large mat-sails, with great rapidity. They are built in a wedge-like shape, generally some twenty feet long, with a small indented place with seats under matting for their passengers, and movable decks, below which the crew stretch themselves to sleep. Since the days of the “old woman who lived in a shoe,” nothing can be found which has been made to contain more human beings in the same space than a Chinese fast, or tanka boat, besides having room for cooking purposes, a watertank, a spare spar, and a small altar, in whose front a joss-stick kept burning propitiates their tutelar deity. Ye pampered denizens of the crowded city, upon whose elbows the bricks and mortar of more plebeian neighbors crowd too close, go and learn of those human bees of the world, economy of space.

The water becomes so shoal before reaching the stone pier, that the little vessel lowers sail and drops anchor—this shoalness is the result of that want of force or energy, which, shown in the decline of Goa, could not maintain the fortifications of Point de Galle after building them, and which from sudden and unhealthy culmination, has marked the downfall of all the Portuguese possessions in the East.

We were encompassed by tanka-boats—so named from their resemblance in shape to an egg—a great number of which they could scarcely contain. Their maiden proprietors, with their pretty teeth, big nankeen breeches, nicely-plaited hair, small bare feet and braceleted wrists, at once set up the cry, “Takee my boatee!—takee my boatee!” Some one having taken the cockle-shell barge of Atti, and some other that of Aqui, a few moves of the powerful skull of the Celestial Charon at the stern, as her small feet step back and forth on a neatly-scoured miniature platform, and a few pulls at the sweep-oar of the Celestial Charon in the bow, and the boat now is in the sand of the beach. One of the maidens, with none of the aversion of the feline species, steps over into the water, arranges a small cricket-bridge, and balance-pole of bamboo, and with the right hand of fellowship helps you up on the nice stone jutty. Up, you walk to Franck’s hotel, on the wide and level praya, leading to the circular promenade on which the Rip Van Winkle population, when the hot sun is nearly down, go to take their ante-supper walk and evening airing.

On the 18th of April we left the anchorage of the old Portuguese city, and started for our first visit to the anchorage of Canton for ships drawing twenty feet of water. We stood across the wide and turbid estuary of the Pekiang, and about twelve o’clock we reached the Bocca Tigris—the proper mouth of the Canton river—and passed the forts of the Bogue, that the English ships Andromache, Imogen, and others, handled so badly as they held on their way up to their great city. We were detained some time before reaching here, by having towed under an itinerant fast-boat who had made fast astern. It took some time to right his boat, bail her, and take off the crew who huddled on her keel. The fellow was attempting to smuggle salt which made his boat too deep. He afterward fell into the hands of some of the river pirates who infest the waters of China. We ran through fish-stakes innumerable, passed pagodas—those lofty, circular, terraced piles of brick and porcelain, which some of the Chinamen tell you were built to mark the commencement of learning and civilization with them, and others that they keep off evil spirits from the country visible from their tops—and at three o’clock were moored in Whampoa Reach, surrounded by merchant-ships of all nations; from the mountainous old East Indiaman, to the (cynosure of all) magnificent American clippers. ’Tis here, of all the world, in a limited space, that the alpha and omega of naval architecture are to be seen—the “Flying Cloud,” the “Sea Serpent,” and the Chinese salt-junk.

After chartering a Peruvian-built bark as a coal-ship for the squadron, and ordering two officers to her, allowing those of the Mississippi to make a hurried visit to Canton, and shipping about forty Chinese coolies, whose names puzzled the purser to enter, we returned to Macao and then to Hong-Kong. On the 27th April we left the latter place for the more northern port of Shanghae, where the steam-frigate Susquehanna awaited the arrival of the commodore, who proposed making her his flag-ship because of her noble spaciousness. We went out by the Lymoon passage, and with the ship deeply laden with coal, staggered along up the Formosa channel. For a few days we had a mist so thick that it precipitated in rain, and afterward a fog so thick that we ran slowly and cautiously not to go over Chinese fishermen, and also to take soundings, for which purpose the engines were stopped at intervals. Our band played at intervals: the English-coast pilot on board had a Kanaka servant with him; this fellow would listen to the music with much interest and seem delighted: the Chinese cooley would move about the deck the while, apparently perfectly unconscious of, or indifferent to the sweet strains, or if he observed at all, his smooth and sinister face looked his disapproval of such a barbarian noise.

Our first of May suggested anything else but floral association. It was cold and raw; blowing fresh, and a heavy head-sea, which, during the night, smashed in the port side of the head-rail of the ship; deck wet, sky overcast; no observations, to determine our position could be taken; poor little land-birds, ejected from domicil, were perched in the rigging, too much benumbed to work their passage, and around were small junks of the Chinaman, “laying-to,” with basket-drags from head and stern, like floating anchors.

On the 3d, we entered the mouth of the Yang-tse-kiang—it being remembered that kiang is the Chinese for river. The water is as muddy as that of the Pekiang. Just inside of an island, bearing the euphonic name of the orientalist and quasi-missionary, Gutzlaff, we got an English pilot who gave us the first intelligence of the doings of the rebel army, up the river, in the vicinity of Nanking. The navigation of the Yang-tse is exceedingly intricate, owing to hard and shifting bars, which rendered it necessary for a ship of our size to proceed with much caution. The shores were low and white, and resembled the coast of Florida. Shanghae is situated on the Woosung river, which empties into the Yang-tse at the village of Woosung, and after reaching the village and anchorage for opium-ships, you run off to the left and southwest for Shanghae. Nothing can exceed the closeness and thoroughness of the cultivation visible on the bank on both sides of this tortuous stream; it looks like one great market-garden, and the wonderful industry of its cultivators, says to the black soil, month in and month out, “Give! give!” The unremitting toil, and the uninterrupted use of ammoniacal fertilizers never allow the earth to be weary of well-doing. No wonder agriculture is so fostered by the government, and that once a year the imperial cousin, &c., to the planetary system, should, by holding the plough in the field, attempt the impossibility of adding dignity to the labors of the husbandman.

A few hours’ run after entering the Woosung, enabled us to descry the Susquehanna and the Plymouth, the bend of the river, and the low and level paddy-fields, causing them to appear as if enclosed by dry land. The salute of the former came to us over any quantity of waving rice. The river, at the city, is quite narrow, and we anchored in the Chow-chow water—which, with the upturned mud, curls and eddies and turns back and runs on, causing the ships to swing every way at their anchors—just opposite to the numerous houses of the foreign residents, and a short row from a stone quay and level walk which imported cockneyism calls “the Bund.”

Below where we lay, across Suchow creek, was to be seen a neat little protestant church, with a small tower, and the unpretending residences of the missionaries of protestant churches, whose unremitting labors, and social deprivation, deserve better reward than the mere partial success with which they meet. Above the consulate and hongs, commences the city, its walls approaching the water’s edge, and running some distance back. A short walk through a crowded and muddy suburb and you enter one of the gates. The imperial authority, the Taoutae, fearing an attack from the adherents of the rebel chief, Thae-ping-Wang, had fortified the place, and most of the silk and other stores were closed. Previous to our arrival they had experienced the shock of an earthquake, which had shaken down a wall or so. I passed through the narrow, sloppy streets, but the scene was far from the animated one that we had seen in Canton. The population, whose complexions and persons are better than in the more southern districts, were evidently apprehensive that there was soon to be “too muchee bobbery,” or fighting. But nothing can restrain the lower classes from their insatiate vice of gambling. In the tea-gardens, from morning to night, it was to be seen going on; while the “sing-song” theatres were amusing others. At the entrance to a joss-house, and along the streets, were to be seen the horrible ghastly emaciation, and foamy mouths, of dead and dying beggars, in filthy tattered rags, to whose presence the passers-by seemed utterly indifferent. Some had dragged themselves to die on the flag-stone crossing of a small stream, that they might possibly get interment; it being said that any one who touched them, is compelled to have this office performed.

The occupants of the foreign hongs had formed a volunteer, or patrol company, for the custody of their property, and under the protection of the guns of quite a large English and American force, were having their amusement, indifferent to Taontae, or Thae-ping-wang. Dinners were given at the consulates, a la Chinois, at which the American and English envoys were present; and at night parties were given by these functionaries, and well attended; or a neatly-printed bill with “Imperial Theatre, Shanghai, and Vivant Regina and Princess,” requested the honor of your Company, to witness the dramatic doings of “her majesty’s servants,” of the English brig “Lily.” Then, too, there was the “spring meeting of the Shanghae races,” which were interesting, and ridiculous too, at times. The course was not very extensive, but quite well thronged, here and there a Tartar soldier being visible in the crowd. The races, in which I noticed Mr. T’hën Tih had entered his steed Qui-Qui, were:—

1.—The Griffin’s Handicap.—For China Ponies that have run in the Griffin’s Plate, and whose owners have subscribed to this Handicap; the winner of the Griffin’s Plate excluded.—Heats once round from the Willows.—Ponies to be handicapped after the Griffin’s Plate is run for.—Subscribers may start two Ponies for one subscription. Prizes from amount subscribed to be appropriated to 1st, 2d, and 3d Ponies in six shares.—The winner of the race to receive 3 shares, the second Pony 2, and the third 1 share.—The second and third Ponies in the last heat to be the winners of the second and third prizes.—Entrance $10, and half forfeit if declared on or before 8th April.

2.—The Tsatlee Cup,—Value $75, for all Ponies.—Entrance $3 each to second Pony.—Weight for inches.—Winner of the Manilla Cup to carry 14 lbs. extra and of Chaa-sée Cup 7 lbs. extra.—Twice round.

3.—The Pang-king-pang Stakes,—Of $2 each with $20 from the fund for China Ponies.—Weight for inches.—Once round from the Willows.

4.—The Ladies’ Purse and Plate,—Value $50 for all Ponies.—Entrance $3 each.—Weight for inches.—Twice round.

5.—The Persian Cup,—Value $50.—Second Pony $15.—For China Ponies only.—Entrance $3 each.—Weight for Inches.—Once round from the Willows.

6.—The Forced Handicap,—For all Winning Ponies at this meeting to be handicapped by the Stewards.—Entrance $3 each with $30 from the fund.—Once round and a distance.

7.—The Celestial Stakes,—For all Beaten China Ponies at this meeting.—Entrance $3 with $30 from the fund. Weight for inches.—Once round and a distance.

8.—The Native Purse,—Value 15,000 cash, for all Ponies.—Indian and Chinese riders.—Post entries to the clerk of the course. No entrance fee.—Twice round.

The native horses are small, and the native saddles clumsy in the extreme, with their large iron-lever stirrups; and when John Chinaman, perched like a monkey on his shoulders, pushed his pony for the purse, the scene was exceedingly ludicrous. Fourteen cash make one cent, so the amount won in the last race was not so great as one would think.

On the 9th the commodore, with the customary manning of yards and salute, shifted his broad pennant from the Mississippi to the Susquehanna, and the British war-steamer “Hermes,” which had been to take the English plenipotentiary to the camp of the rebel chief below Nanking, returned with that functionary, whose mission had not proven propitious. Her officers stated that on their way up the river, near Cheang-foo, they were fired at by the rebel forces, and above Nanking by the imperial troops, but without injury. In an interview with them, the English assured them that their visit was both friendly and neutral. The rebels expressed regret at the firing, and said they would send down an order to prevent its recurrence. There being a difficulty between Thae-ping-wang and the English embassador, Sir S. George Bonham, as to the preliminaries of an interview, the “favorite of Heaven” not willing to make any concessions, the steamer returned, and was again fired at, one shot striking her hull, and another the main-yard and backstay. The “Hermes” let slip at them, knocking over some of their guns, and passed on. At a place called Silver island they stopped to take a look at the idols the rebels had broken, when one of their generals came down with an apologetic letter about the firing; it was a mistake. This general said himself, and those united with him in the struggle, were protestant Christians; that they did not tolerate opium, tobacco, or profanity, and worshipped not idols, but the one God. If they were successful they would open Nanking to all the world. At that time a great deal of aid to the labors of the missionaries in China, was predicted from their movements, which subsequent events have not realized.

The storeship “Supply,” of our squadron having gotten ashore at the mouth of the Yang-tse on the “North bank,” we were suddenly despatched to her assistance, but discovered she had gotten afloat before the Mississippi reached her anchorage. Below Woosung we took in tow a large teak-wood junk, manned by Chinamen, and laden with coal, which we were to take aboard after getting over the bar. On the 18th, while waiting for the Susquehanna, the tide changed, the old junk drifted into us threatening to crush our quarter-boats, so she was cast off. The ancient pig-tail mariner who presided over her crew and helm, though conscious of drifting each moment on a dangerous bank, would not cast his anchor, because, as it was afterward believed, he thought the “fanquis” of the American steamer were going to tow him out to sea; the consequence was, the wind and sea having increased, the junk struck, and the tide soon falling, she was hard and fast. Boats were sent to her assistance, but the breakers prevented her from being reached, before a late hour of the night, when the officer sent with the boats seeing it impossible to get her off, and seven feet water in her hold, she was abandoned, and the crew brought aboard of the Mississippi. A dismal looking set of Celestial scape-graces they were, and presented a motley group as they sat around their pig-tail Falconer encased in an antique fur cape, jabbering about their escape. Before our boats were able to reach them, they had illuminated their cabin altar, burned perfumed sticks and paper, and chin-chinned Joss with great vim, but their stupid little tutelar deity not having responded to their prayers for assistance, they became indignant, tossed Mr. Joss, altar, perfumed sticks, and all, overboard, and betook themselves to the more sensible thing of building a raft of bamboos and their huge mat sails, with which they proposed, when the sea went down, to risk their safety. They were sent back to Shanghae by the pilot-boat, having subjected Uncle Sam to some three thousand dollars’ loss, besides nearly all of the crew of the boat, that slept aboard of her, had the “junk fever,” and one afterward died from it.

The weather continuing very rough, the wind at times changing in five minutes to the opposite point of the compass, we laid under Saddle island for two or three days, when, with the “Supply” in tow, and in company with the now flag-ship, “Susquehanna,” on the 23d of May, we took our departure for the Loo-Choo islands.

CHAPTER VII.

The island of Great Loo-Choo appeared in sight after a run of three days from China. Previous to reaching there, the commodore issued a general order, requiring look-outs to be kept in port as at sea, during the stay of the squadron among the Japanese islands, and all movements of vessels or collections of boats were to be reported to the officer of the deck, and by him to his superiors; sentinels with loaded musket and six rounds of ball-cartridges; general and division exercises of great guns and small arms, with artillery and infantry drills, were to be prosecuted with increased diligence; and in navigating those seas attention was to be given more to precautionary measures to secure safety than to accomplish quick passages. Another general order stated that the countries which our ships were then about to visit were inhabited by a singular people, whose policy it had been, during more than two centuries, to decline all intercourse with strangers, to which end they had resorted to acts at variance and irreconcilable with the practices of civilized nations; that one of the duties enjoined upon the commodore, was to endeavor to overcome these prejudices by a course of friendly and conciliatory measures, and to strive to convince the Japanese that we went among them as friends, though assuring them of our determination never to submit to insult or wrong, or desist from claiming and securing those rights of hospitality justly due from one nation to another. In pursuance of these objects, every individual under his command should exercise the greatest prudence, forbearance, and discretion, in their intercourse with all with whom they came in contact. While distrustful of their apparent friendship and sincerity, and guarding against treachery, they would extend toward those oppressed and misgoverned people every kindness and protection, and would be careful not to molest, injure, or maltreat them in any manner; that it would be in time to resort to extreme measures when every friendly demonstration should have been exhausted. The commodore also stated that his instructions directed him to forbid in the most positive manner the acceptance of presents or supplies, unless those who proffered them, were prepared to receive adequate returns.

That we might be the better prepared, in addition to the great-gun exercises, drill, &c., when “friendly demonstrations should have been exhausted,” the commander-in-chief provided himself with an octagonal marquee made of red, white, and blue, caused ambulances to be made in the different ships, and directed that all boats of the squadron when prepared for distant or active service, were to be armed and provided, so as to be ready at a sudden call, with anchor and cable, two spare oars, masts, sails, and rigging, spun-yarn and seizing stuff, four battle-axes, a hand-saw for each division, one wood-axe, spikes, bag with hatchet, sheet-lead and nails, spy-glass for commanding officer of division, musket, pistol, and cutlass for each man, cartouch-box filled, screw-driver and nipple-wrench, cleaning rags and oil for each boat, a crow-bar, two blue-lights, two rockets, candles primed, and match-ropes in tin-box, lantern and materials for getting light, boat’s colors and signals, compass, bread, water and provisions, oar-muffles, bandages and laudanum for wounded, lead-lines, small cooking apparatus for largest boat, flash-pans, and awnings.

On getting to our anchorage we felt as if we had arrived at the outer door of the hermetic empire that we had come so far to deal with, we being then only about eight or nine days’ sail from the bay of Yedo. As Loo-Choo had no doubt been selected as the base of operation, upon the principle of reaching the old hen by first going at the chickens, it will be as well to give an outline of its history.

The Loo-Choo islands—pronounced in Japanese Lu Kiu—are a dependency of the Japanese prince of Satsuma. There are thirty-six islands in all, which are divided in three groups: the Northern or Sanbok, the Middle or Tchusan, and the Southern or Sannan group. According to the belief of the inhabitants, the origin of the people of these islands, like that of nearly all the orientals, is divine, and nowise of the Lord Monboddo theory. Their annals always commence with a series of gods, then follow a race of demi-gods, and at last come human beings. To their great veneration for their ancestors, may probably be ascribed these conceits. A son reveres his father beyond everything else; this father likewise revered his progenitor. So the grandfather gets all the love of his son, with a large share of that of the grandson through the grandson’s father. A thousand years in Loo-Choo chronology is a small matter: they note the existence of their islands for seventeen thousand years, that is agreeably to what the Chinaman would call their “fash;” so compound interest for a thousand years in filial veneration gives divinity of origin to their nation.

The Chinese emperor, Kang-hy, in 1719, sent a man of great attainments to Loo-Choo. The report of this learned pig-tail, upon what he saw in the country, was translated by Father Gaubil of the French Jesuit mission in China, whose records probably contain more data relative to the ancient history of the East, than is to be found in any other mission.

The Chinese histories first make mention of Loo-Choo in the year 605. In that year a party of Chinese visited the islands, and on their return brought with them some of the natives, who were taken to Pekin. Here they were recognised as Loo-Chooans by the Japanese embassador at that court. They are described as being very ignorant and very poor. The emperor Yang-ti, however, sent embassadors and interpreters to claim sovereignty over the islands, but the king of Loo-Choo rejected all proposals of the kind, whereupon the emperor sent ten thousand men from Fokien to invade the islands. They landed on the island of Great Loo-Choo, and were bravely met by the king at the head of his army. A pitched battle was fought, in which the king was slain, when the Chinese triumphed, taking five thousand prisoners, and sacking the cities of Sheudi and Napa. The Chinese chronicle the fact that the Loo-Chooans were so lamentably destitute that they did not even know the use of “chop-sticks!” and also state that they sometimes sacrificed human beings at their religious festival, which barbarous custom was at once abolished.

The Chinese emperors of the Ting dynasty, and also those of the succeeding Song dynasty, did not exercise sovereign rights over the islands. A trade had sprung up between the two countries, and all went as well as a junk could sail, until 1291, when the emperor Chit-su, of the Eeven dynasty, resolved upon their conquest. He fitted out and despatched an armed expedition for this purpose, but the Tartars and Chinese, both disgusted and disheartened by the recollection of their terrible failure in a similar attempt on Japan, after a short absence returned to the port of Fokien, not having gone in sight of the islands. The history of the islands speaks of constant civil war, and bloody battles. In 1372 the largest island was divided into three kingdoms. Hong-u, the first of the Ming dynasty, sent an embassador to Loo-Choo, whose diplomacy was such as to induce T’say-too, one of the kings who resided at Sheudi, to declare himself tributary to China. His example was followed by the two other kings, and peace was restored. Thirty-six Chinese families, by order or with the consent of the emperor, emigrated to the island, who received their “quarter sections” from the king, and from that time dates the commencement of civilization and Chinese influence. Young men from Loo-Choo were annually sent to Nanking, to learn the Chinese language at the expense of the emperor; and presents were exchanged by the sovereigns. At the death of T’say-too the emperor sent his son to preside over the realm. Loo-Choo then became prosperous, trade sprang up; and during the reign of Chang-pat-shi, the great grandson of T’say-too, the three kingdoms of the islands were re-united, and the royal family assumed the title of Chang.

Revolutions and civil wars raged from time to time, and a feudal system was established. Commerce with China increased, and the Chinese complained of the scarcity of silver and copper coin in the provinces Tshe-kiang and Fokien, on account of the exportation of it to Loo-Choo. In 1500, the Loo-Choo people sent a trading junk to Malacca, many to the island of Formosa, and a great many to the southern ports of Japan. During the reign of Chang-tching, Loo-Choo became the market where Japanese and Chinese merchants met to exchange their goods. Commerce became brisk, and the constant quarrels between the Chinese and Japanese gave the king an opportunity to extend his influence. The extensive piratical operations of the Japanese, about the year 1525, having their headquarters at Ke-long-chan, on the island of Formosa, compelled the emperor of China to have recourse to the king of Loo-Choo as mediator between him and the emperor of Japan. The mediation did not suppress the piracy complained of, though backed by large squadrons sent to sea by the celestial emperor, to destroy the pirates, over whom his imperial confrere of Japan professed to have no control; indeed, the Japan monarch alleged that there were many Chinese among these outlaws.

The ascent of the throne of Japan by Taico Sama, proved an event of great importance. He was a man of great ability and shrewdness, and attained his high position by his own exertions, and not by birth. He put an end to feudalism in his country, and ruled with an iron hand. He conceived the idea of using to advantage the terror which prevailed because of the Japanese pirates, and the prestige which their daring acts had acquired. His ambition was as unbounded as his belief in manifest destiny, and his object was the conquest of China. He despatched officers to the king of Loo-Choo, ordering him to declare his kingdom tributary to Japan; and similar pressing invitations were sent to the governors of the Philippine islands, the king of Siam, &c. The sovereign of Loo-Choo temporized, and finally refused to submit, relying on Chinese protection. He informed the emperor of the plans of Taico Sama; a league of all these princes was formed against him, when Taico Sama invaded that fighting-ground between the Chinese and Japanese—the peninsula of Corea. Taico’s main object was attained. He reaped all the benefit proceeding from piracies licensed by him or enlisted in his service, and thus giving it the character of a regular warfare. He smothered civil war in its germ, and sent away his most influential opponents to fight in the Corea, not Crimea. Corea was then the safety-valve for ardent spirits against the government, as France keeps its Algiers, or keeps up a foreign war. Taico “savaad” a great deal.

During the reign of Taico, Loo-Choo suffered severely; trade was brought to a stand still, and, like a more modern nation that Americans wot of, Japan proclaimed herself mistress of the sea. The king of the islands, however, managed to send an embassador to China, who was received with great magnificence by the emperor, both on account of the dangers he had encountered from the voyage in the junk, and the risk incurred of falling into the hands of the pirates who swarmed in those seas.

After the death of Taico, and during the regency of Iyeyas for his son, in 1612, a Loo-Chooan chief, dissatisfied with his king, armed three thousand men in Japan, with whom he returned to his own country and made the kingdom by force tributary to Japan, that is, to the province of Satsuma. He took back the king a prisoner. The fallen sovereign of Loo-Choo behaved with so much dignity, that two years afterward he was generously sent back, and reinstated on his throne, remaining still a true friend to the emperor of China.

Commercial relations, but on a small scale, existed with China and Japan, when, in 1708, all the plagues came down on Loo-Choo: it was desolated by the ravages of terrible typhoons; the crops failed; cattle died; the king’s palace was entirely consumed by fire; and frightful epidemics prevailed among the natives. Cang-hi, the emperor of China, sent them assistance, and his embassador, Supas Kang, in his report, according to the translation in French, says the language of these people is so mixed up of Chinese and Japanese, that it forms almost a distinct language. He finds no wild animals or venomous reptiles or insects, but much fish. Their exports at that time consisted of sulphur, a peculiar red dye stuff, dried fish, saki, and timber, principally cedar-wood.

The prospect, as you approach Great Loo-Choo island, clothed in masses of deep green, is very delightful to the eye, after it has been resting for days on the slate-colored ocean. We reached our anchorage late in the afternoon in the midst of a heavy rain, on the 26th of May. The roadstead off the city of Napa is enclosed by large fields of coral, and the entrances through the reefs are quite narrow. When we had gotten inside, large numbers of the natives appeared on the shore, no doubt greatly astonished at the sight of the two large steamers; and shortly after, the sloop-of-war “Saratoga,” from Hong Kong, also arrived. In a short time a rude dug-out boat came off to our ship, containing some officer, but as the flag-ship had previously made signal forbidding any communication with shore, he was directed to that ship—now the Susquehanna. He wished to know what we wanted in their harbor; the answer to this was, “Ask no questions and I’ll tell you,” &c. He was given to understand that he was rather too “small pigeon” for our commodore to see, and that he must go back and send off their “first chop” mandarin, as we could hold no intercourse with any other. This was trying on the dignitate early, but nothing else will answer in the East; any concession of equality, or manifestation of too great courtesy, would be at once construed by them into an admission of their superiority.

Our stripes and stars were a new sight to them, and the sudden advent of our ships in their waters was more than they could comprehend. At night their chief men took counsel together, and came to the conclusion that we were in want of kam-yum-muru, or something to eat; so the next morning off came, in a string of canoes, bullocks, pigs, chickens, and vegetables, as presents. These were sent back with the information that we could not receive presents. Become quite uneasy about our presence, they consented to their prince regent’s coming off to the flag-ship, which he did at an appointed hour, with a suite in their canoes. He was well received, and given the cheap salute of three guns, which small compliment he would have preferred to dispense with. They were shown over the ship: the engines were moved for their observation, and they evinced immense surprise: some of the attendants, however, when the great pistons moved, bolted up the hatchway and made for their boats. The higher officers were quite dignified in appearance and demeanor, but the lower class showed a simplicity most childish. They giggled at a looking-glass, and continually felt behind it; a sight through a spy-glass was most puzzling; a wine-glass they held tightly with both hands, and elevated to the forehead before tasting contents; a watch was most miraculous, and as they gathered round they were all wonderment, and imitated its “tick tick;” when the works were exposed to them, their exclamation of surprise was more like one of pain. The contents of the purser’s chest when exposed to them they seemed to think quite shiny and pretty, but evidently were unaware of the value or use of eagles, dollar-pieces, &c. On a chart of the world, in the cabin one day, I showed a number of them their country, and then designating my own, traced the track by which we had come to their island, which they appeared to comprehend. It was quite amusing to see the rapidity with which they would let go the polar handles of a small galvanic battery, which much persuasion and the example of some of the men were first required to get them to take hold of, as soon as it was slightly charged by pushing in the needles. They would drop their hands and rub their wrists in amazement.

The dress of the Loo-Chooans consists of a loose gown reaching to the knees, with large sleeves, made of a species of grass-cloth, of their own manufacture, and confined at the waist with a wide sash, pendent from which they wear a tobacco-pouch and small pipe. After the interchange of salutations, the pipe is always produced. On their feet, which are generally bare, they wear a coarse straw sandal, secured by a strap passing through next to the great toe, and one around the instep. Like the Japanese, the better classes carry a fan; but only the high officers wear a hat, made of crape, the first class yellow, and the second red—more particularly as a badge of authority. Their hair is brushed up all around the head, and its ends secured in a knot on the summit of the head, transfixed by silver or brass pins.

LOO CHOO.

We knew that Loo-Choo had been visited in 1846 by a French missionary, Forcade, who had subsequently left, but were rather surprised on anchoring abreast of a tall and singular formation, called in the surveys of the “Alceste and Lyra,” “Capstan rock,” but which more nearly resembles a large old barn, with dark thatched roof, and huge projecting eaves—to see flying from its summit the English flag. We afterward ascertained that it was a flag giving protection to Dr. Bettelheim, a converted Hungarian Jew, who had married an English lady, and had been sent by an English naval mission society, some seven years before, as a missionary to Loo-Choo. He did not appear to be a man whose disposition and temperament were calculated to afford him success in his labors, although he had persevered in his study of their language until he could preach to the natives in it, and had occupied his lonely position for years, with no other Christian faces than those of his wife and three children. The Loo-Chooans had tried every way to get rid of him; they had addressed, through the Chinese, to the English minister, Lord Palmerston, remonstrances against the mission, which invariably closed with the petition that he would remove Bettelheim. They may not have known Vattel, but they urged with much energy his doctrine, that a missionary should leave a country when his presence was not agreeable to its people. But the Dr. held his ground, though he was made to undergo some rather rough treatment. Himself, by his professional skill in the healing art, and his wife, during the prevalence of the smallpox, had been very attentive to the people, which caused the authorities to become quite jealous. They were followed and hooted at in the streets, and finally, Mrs. B. during a walk, was forcibly separated from her husband, and himself beaten. The British war-steamer “Sphynx” happened to pay a visit to Napa not long afterward, when the authorities made ample apology for the offence, and promised better things in future. They removed his servants, or constantly changed them. They erected spy-houses opposite the gate of his residence, which were constantly attended. If he preached to a crowd in the street, or market-place, at a signal from the Japanese police on the island, his auditors all ran away. If he distributed tracts in their language at night, the next morning, the police brought them back to him, carefully tied up.

They were much disturbed by our presence, and if our sails were loosened to dry, they wondered why we did not sail away. We made a reconnoissance of their harbor to ascertain or confirm the accuracy of the surveys of Beechy, and the flag, or station staffs, we erected on shore for this purpose, around which numbers would gather, sorely perplexed them.

The principal town of Napa, containing about twenty thousand inhabitants, is located behind the rising beach, and can not be seen well from the shipping. Its kiang, or river, forms a harbor for junks from China, Japan, and their coasting trade, and small boats only. The houses of the town which are low, are enclosed in walls of cyclopean masonry, built mostly without any cement, of coral rock. Over these the limbs of the banyan project, and they are mostly fringed on top by a growth of cactus. The entrances to their dwellings are from narrow alleys running from the streets, and concealed by an abrupt elbow turn, so unless you notice close, you will scarcely observe the doorway. The streets are narrow, and laid out like those of Peking, and unpaved, and the reception that we met with on walking them, was anything but sociable; not that the mass of the people, who, after getting a little over the trepidation which our unexpected arrival produced, were not inclined to be friendly, but because of the surveillance of their suspicious and jealous officials. On our approach the shops were closed, and the way in front entirely deserted, while as soon as you had passed, there was a great throng gazing at you from the rear. Those weaving in the open air with their rude looms seizing their children did flee. Old women, awfully ugly, with tattoed hands, hair piled on their heads like a greasy mop, invested with a single salt-sack-looking garment of exceeding brevity, if you came upon them would betake themselves to flight, leaving the sharks’ meat, or vegetables, which they might have for sale, in the market-place, or else bury their faces in their dirty bluish tattoed hands, and so remain until you had passed. We were forced to conclude that our presence was as moving as that of Mr. Nicodemus in the Spectre Bridegroom; or else that an American naval officer, if he caused those old sycoraxes to shun him, must be ugly enough to scare a horse from his oats.

The origin of the married women tattoeing their hands, according to Loo-Chooan story literally rendered, is this: A husband going on a journey had an agreement with his wife for three years, but contrary to the agreement, ten years passed before his return. Her parents repeatedly proposed that she should change, and marry again, but she earnestly defended her chastity, saying, “A woman should not marry two husbands!” Still gainsaying, with blows they were forcing her to marry. She invented a stratagem—she painted her fingers with ink; she spoiled her beauty. Hence it must be, they say, that all women on marrying tattoe their hands.

In our walks we always had the unsolicited company of some government deputies. If you motioned them about anything, they were exceedingly addicted to salaaming, by bowing and raising their hands to their heads, but they remained exactly where they were. A rare and beautiful flower attracted your attention, and you wished to look closer at it, your attendant functionary pantomimically trusts that you will not enter, but passing through the gate, or scaling the coral wall, in a few minutes he will present you with one of the novel flowers. Should one of your company accidentally or intentionally slip out of the sight of these impromptu attendants, they appear most mentally troubled till he reappears.

The policy pursued with these people was a mild but firm one. They were asked for a house on shore that might be used as a place for our sick to recruit. They declined; and a few days after one of our officers and some men occupied one of their buildings in the town of Tumai, divided from Napa by a small stream. This building had been used as a kind of town-hall, where the chiefs assembled in council, carried thither in sedan-chairs, encased in ratan lattices, and swung from a pole resting on the shoulders of two serfs. The honesty of the natives was shown in the security of clothes and everything else that might be left out; even a boat’s anchor lost, and found by them, was returned to this place, though they kept a spy upon its American inmates night and day. Here, while dining with the young officer in charge, I “tried on,” with some of the more intelligent natives, sentences in their language, from a vocabulary which had been prepared for him, and with which he had been able to negotiate for his daily supply of chow-chow, and eatables for some of the ships. “Cha tooti kwoo”—tea bring to me; and “Midzoo tooti kwoo”—water bring to me; and similar simple sentences they understood readily; but the attempt at more complicate ones, in which the vowel sound is dropped, rather awoke their risibles.

The authorities sent off protests against the further occupancy of the house at Tumai, and requested that we would vacate it. They stated it was the place they had for assembling; it was the only place they had for meeting together to debate their local affairs, and it was also the place where their young were taught. They also took the opportunity of mentioning that the fertility of their island was not equal to the wants of its population; and that every draft upon them for live-stock, &c., was an oppression. In this there was obvious dissimulation; because they sent away to other countries a good deal of the produce of their land, and a great deal as tribute, while we paid well for whatever we got. The commodore had notified them of his intention of going up to their capital, Sheudi, distant some four miles from the anchorage, to pay his respects to the prince-regent at the palace; they did not covet the honor; they trusted he would not confer it.

Not far from Tumai are a number of the native tombs, beautifully located on green hill-sides. They are large, built in the form of a horse-shoe, with a cemented dome fronted by a little court, into which you descend by a flight of stone steps, and are kept whitened with great assiduity by the surviving relatives. The most attractive and romantic spots are chosen for their location. Their reverence and care for the homes of the dead, may well put to the blush, the wickedness of Christian communities who make streets through graves and graveyards.

In a grove of pines, at Tumai, not far from the landing-place, is a secluded spot, which appears to have been set aside for the interment of foreigners. Our ships buried some of our men and one officer there. As soon as the graves are closed the authorities cause them to be well built over, without charge, in a parallelogram, with coral rock and cement, leaving an inclination toward the feet that the rain may run off. Any inscription that the friends please, may either be imbedded in the masonry or erected at the head, which will be respected and preserved by the natives. On copper plates, tacked on wooden crosses at the end of some of these tombs, I read:—

“Wm. Hares, seaman in his Britannic majesty’s ship, ‘Alceste,’ aged 21 years, lies buried here, October 16th, 1816. This monument was erected by the king and inhabitants of this most hospitable island.”

“Vive Jesus: † vive sa croix: Ci-Git Calland (Pierre Juler), second chirurgien a bord de la corvette de Roi la Victoriense; mort a bord le 16th Septembre, 1846.”

“Ci-Git Le Corps Du R’d Mathieu Adnet, Pêre Miss’re Apostolique, Fréres du Japon, Decedé le hier J’et, 1848.”

The Loo-Chooan manner of making salt is peculiar. They clear acres of ground in the vicinity of the water, and make it as level as possible. During the extreme heat of the day men continue to throw into the air, that it may descend on this level space, ladles full of salt-water. Partial crystallization is thus produced, which unites with the sand under foot, which, being allowed to dry, is piled up aside, and afterward the saline matter is washed from it, filtered through straw into earthen vessels, and then evaporated by heat. On these level places our marine, and boat-howitzer divisions were usually landed for drilling purposes.

You see no wheeled vehicles on the island, and one in the shape of an ambulance-cart which the commodore had built, and once ashore there, is, no doubt, the first that a Loo-Chooan ever looked on. Small horses, with their untrimmed fetlocks, are the only means of conveyance from the junks to the interior, of whatever little merchandise they now consume. The load is placed on a rude saddle secured by girth and a crupper of rope enveloped in bamboo-rollers like strung necklace; and the bridle, with its head-stall of rope, has two small pieces of wood passing on either side of the nostrils of the horse, with a cord through them, by which he is controlled in place of a bit.

On the 6th of June, the commodore, with a suite of officers, determined on paying an official visit to the prince-regent, at his palace at Sheudi—a visit which the authorities had vainly endeavored to get indefinitely postponed. They did not understand these attentions: stretching wide their hands, they said “America was a great nation; while Loo-Choo was no larger than the points of the fingers scarcely separated—what does America want with Loo-Choo?” The escort, when landed and formed at Tumai, consisted of two companies of marines in full dress—to whom, for some purpose or other, six rounds of ball-cartridges had been issued per man—two brass pieces and fixed ammunition, manned by sailors, and two full bands from the Susquehanna and Mississippi, while in front were three tall fellows carrying the American ensign. The rear was brought up by servants carrying some presents consisting of arms and calicoes sewed up in red cloth, and others with chow-chow baskets. The march was over a well-paved and graded road of coral rock. First we passed over a large terrace overhung by enormous banyan-trees, which fronted a very thick arched wall enclosing a temple and the tomb of some of the royal family. A tablet standing on a large pedestal near the step of this terrace, in native characters, warns the peasantry that when the sedan of any high functionary rests here, that the lower classes must take the road to the right. Sometimes we passed sugar-cane growing on one side of the road, and on the other ingeniously-irrigated paddy-fields were waving in green rice. The road then ascended by a grade of about seven degrees, quite a high ridge, from which the extended prospect of cultivation was very fine indeed. The sun came down hot, though at times we walked under the shade of thick and pretty bamboo-hedges. The sight was a rare one to the peasantry; some, attracted by the music and the novelty of uniform, left their work in the fields and ran to the eminences on the roadside, then others were alarmed and bolted; one fellow I saw jump into a muddy stream, swim for it, and not look back until he stood on the other side.

We reached the street leading to the palace-grounds about twelve o’clock. This was a wide one of nicely-rolled gravel, and on either side were walls of much height and thickness, showing smooth and expensive masonry. In marching along this approach, we passed under three roofed and detached gateways, built at intervals across it. They had three distinct entrances, the widest being in the centre, over which a red sign, with Japanese characters in gilt, had this announcement: “This is a small island, but observes the rules of propriety; distinguished persons will pass through the centre opening, others will go through those at the sides.”

On arriving at the main gate of the palace, a number of the chiefs, in their yellow and red caps, were there to receive us. Leaving the escort outside, the commodore and suite of officers entered, and after passing through successive courts, and up stone steps alternately to the right and left, at a considerable elevation from the street, the party was ushered into the hall of audience. Here were a number of yellow and red-capped chiefs assembled. Chairs and tables for each one of the guests were placed, and pipes, tea, and cakes, with lacquered chop-sticks, served. When the regent—quite an old man, with long, white beard—entered, with his councillors, he advanced and saluted the commodore half way, insisting on rank or equality. The interview was a short one; compliments were interchanged through Dr. Bettelheim and Mr. S. W. Williams of Canton, when the regent was invited aboard of the Susquehanna, when she should return to Napa, after a contemplated absence of twelve days. The presents were then left in the middle of the floor, and the visiting party retired. On reaching the street we were conducted to a large hall in another part of the ground, where a feast had been prepared for us, set out upon black lacquered tables. The first course consisted of soups, of which there were nearly a dozen different kinds furnished in succession, in small cup-bowls, with porcelain spoons. There was nearly every kind from egg-soup to “bird’s-nest.” The solids were pleasant to the taste but rather suspicious in appearance, among which were slices of hard-boiled eggs, so colored as to resemble sections of the uncooked tomato. Finding that we were not able to make any progress with the black lacquered chop-sticks which had been distributed at each one’s place, they furnished us with little sharpened pieces of oak, with the aid of which we did full justice to our hosts.

After strange-looking cakes had been brought, tea removed, and pipes handed, very small porcelain cups were placed, and our honorable red-cap attendants, who according to their custom, wait themselves upon their guests, kept them continually filled with SAKI from silver vessels shaped like tea-pots. This was the first taste we had of this colorless, celebrated Japanese national beverage. It was pleasant to the taste, and yet the after-math was not; it had some of the goût of champagne, and then it was turnipy. Buckingham might be on the seas, and then the seas might be on him; but a man could scarcely be considered “in his cups” though a hundred cups were in him of saki. Nor could he exclaim with Falstaff that the villain had put lime in his “sack,” (did Shakespeare know Japanese?)—because the thimble-sized tankard would not admit of it.

The commodore, through the interpreter, toasted the queen and young prince, and hoped Loo-Chooan man and American man would always be friends. The chiefs of course salaamed considerably to this sentiment, but I am quite dubious whether they did not regard it as an indication of closer proximity with these Americans, who might disturb at a future day the nolli me tangere doctrines of their country.

The feast over, the column of escort was again formed, and making the march down to Tumai, in less time than up to Sheudi, by four o’clock, all were aboard of their respective ships.

No more beautiful place than Sheudi, so far as verdure, elevated situation, and attractive foliage, is concerned. Our officers took many a tramp up there, and always with pleasure. At cool springs well cared for they could slake their thirst; under enormous trees they could pic-nic or siesta if they chose, and afterward bathe in a walled lake all covered over with trees. What would the palace-grounds, the Komooe of Sheudi, be worth in this country?—no more baronial domain in England. Should you have gone unprovided with chow-chow on these excursions, stop at a roadside Kunkwa, usually adjoining some place of worship, and the occupants will promptly give you tea and cakes, and the examination of your strange costume, and sage queries about your ship, is their reward for their entertainment. If it should rain during your walk, request one of your unbidden native officer associates to procure a papyrus parasol.

There are many things to interest an antiquarian taste, and provoke conjecture, about Loo-Choo. At Napa there are stone-statues, eight feet high, quite well executed, of their “far-seeing God”—there are causeways of stone, breakwaters, forts constructed with good engineering, and well designed and located for defence, though now entirely disarmed; and you pass over well-arched bridges, with neatly-cut stone balustrading, and in fine state of preservation. The palace at Sheudi is a perfect fortress in wall and situation, and in determined hands would laugh at a siege of many days. When were these built?—when were these forts disarmed? As Basil Hall told Napoleon at St. Helena, in speaking of this island, there are point de fusils there now. The invocation of the Ethiopic song, “Rise, old Napa, rise!” would be now of no avail.

Although a line of steamers from our Pacific coast to Shanghae, China, on the arc of a great circle, would come nowhere nigh the group known as the Bonin islands to the northeast of Loo-Choo, yet the commodore still deemed it best to make a hasty reconnoissance of the harbor of Port Lloyd, which had been surveyed some years ago by the English, who claim sovereignty over Peel island by right of possession, though it can be proven that it was first permanently settled by an American, or one owing allegiance to our country; but as the whole policy of our government has been opposed to foreign colonial possession, there is scarcely any chance of there being any dispute about it. Mr. English, under-secretary of state for foreign affairs, may make himself comfortable.

On the 9th of June the Susquehanna, with the sloop-of-war Saratoga in tow, took their departure, leaving the Mississippi, and storeship Supply in the harbor. A few days afterward the Plymouth arrived from north China, bringing us papers containing an account of the presidential inauguration.

The Susquehanna and the Saratoga reached Peel island, after a pleasant passage, on the 14th. After a stay there of four days, during which the commodore sent parties of officers to explore the island, put a quantity of live stock ashore in the custody of some American residents at Port Lloyd, and also purchased an eligible lot for the government, should it ever hereafter be required, for a coal depot, the ships returned to Napa, bringing with them fish and turtle. They ascertained that some twenty whalers had stopped at the island during the year for refreshments. A parcel of long-nosed porkers turned loose by ships passing, can only be reached by the aid of the rifle; but some of the officers who took a crack at them, facetiously spoke in their letters to the United States of their hunting the wild boar.

Von Siebold, in his history of the discoveries in the Japan seas, says the Bonin islands were first put down on a map published by the Dutch hydrographer, Ortelius, in 1570, and are reported as having been discovered in 1543, by Bernardo de Torres, who named them Malonbrigo de los Hermanos. They were visited in 1595 by Captain Linschaten, of the Dutch East India Company, and are on the map by Hondries in 1634. A few years after they were visited by Captains Quast and Tasman of the same company, who were in search of the Gen and Ken, or Gold and Silver islands. These navigators determined their position with admirable accuracy. Mention is made of them by Vris and Schaef, of the Dutch East India Company in 1643. In 1650 on the map of Jansomous, and in 1680 by Van Kenlen. By later authorities they are omitted, and reappear on charts in the following century as discovered by the Spanish Admiral Cabrera Bueno, and are called Islas del Arzobispo.

The Japanese history in the book San-kok-tou-ran-to-sito, mentions these islands as discovered between 1592 and 1595. In 1675 a Japan exploring expedition, specially authorized by the emperor, sailed from Simoda, then an imperial and customhouse port, for the Bonin islands. They were named by the Japanese the Munin Sima, and reported as fit to be settled, and the importance of doing so was urged. The Japanese counted more than eighty small rock islands. In 1826 they were visited by an American whaler, Captain Coffin; in 1827, by the Russian admiral, Lutke; and in 1828, by Capt. Beechy of the English navy. The inhabitants at Port Lloyd, on Peel island, are about forty in number; on the Bailey or Coffin group, there are living two families. Nearly all these people are runaway sailors from whale-ships, who have obtained wives from the Kanakas of the Sandwich islands, and so far as their nationality is concerned, the Americans predominate. The oldest settler at Port Lloyd is Nathaniel Savary, who acts as mayor of the place, and carries out their self-made laws and regulations with the assistance of two elders elected by a majority.

As long as the Dutch held their fort Zeelandia, on Formosa, its position and possession gave them great advantages in the eyes of the Japanese, but its capture, after a prolonged siege, by the Chinese pirate chief Coshinga, had a very injurious effect with the Japanese, diminishing their prestige and weakening belief in their naval supremacy. It is quite desirable to know the future prospects of the Bonin islands. The adventitious aid of their possession would prove of great advantage in a trade with Japan, being only a distance of two days’ steaming from Yedo.

On the 2d of July the squadron got under way for the bay of Yedo, Japan, the “Susquehanna” towing the “Saratoga,” and the “Mississippi” towing the “Plymouth.” The storeship “Supply” was left at the anchorage, no doubt greatly to the regret of the natives, who, gazing from the beach on our departure, hoped that they would not see us again.

We rounded the southern end of the island with a heavy swell on, the southwest monsoon prevailing at the time, and were soon heading up the Pacific.

Our patriotic remembrance of the return of our great national anniversary was ahead of the people of our own native land; or is it the “Fourth of July” to an American, until the sun of that day has illumined forest, stream, and home, in his own country? At mid-day then of our “Fourth,” when it was yet but eleven o’clock at night of the third, in the United States the large old steamers, and the sailing-vessels in their tow, going dead to windward, dressed with our national ensigns, in latitude 28° 36′ north, and longitude 130° 42′ east, running nearly abreast, fired seventeen guns each, in honor of the day; and the “main-brace” being ordered to be spliced, “Jack” had the opportunity of remembering it in a tot of grog.

The next day, by signal from flag-ship, anchor-buoys were ordered to be made of empty casks, the men were exercised with small arms at target-firing, and ship’s company exercised at general and fire quarters, previous to arriving at our port of destination.

A believer in omens would have had an opportunity of indulging his credulity, and interpreting, if he could, the meaning of a remarkable meteor which shot athwart the sky on the morning of the 6th of July, and was visible from the decks of the ships, when in two days’ run of the bay of Yedo. It appeared as large in circumference as the crown of a man’s hat. Its body was of the brilliancy and color of molten iron, and glowed as if heated by incandescence, emitting all the while sparks which trailed backward in its passage, like barbs of arrows. Its tail was of a bluish transparency, which extended into an emerald-green hue, terminating in a fiery, smoky bulb, resembling the flame of burning tar. When first noticed, it seemed to shoot upward from a line on a level with our quarter-hammock netting, in the southwest, and so near did it appear to the ship, that for an instant it was imagined to be a rocket from the sloop-of-war Plymouth—at the time in tow of us—and designed to attract our attention. In its passage through the heavens, which occupied the time in which one might count thirty, it described a parabolic curve, illuminating as it went our hurricane-deck and wheel-houses with astonishing clearness, and on reaching a point nearly due north, occupied by a bank of dull roseate cloud, it burst like a rocket and disappeared, leaving those who had the good fortune to see it uttering exclamations of admiration and wonderment, and a rather credulous corporal of marines who happened to be going his rounds at the time, willing to take his “corporal” oath that the brilliant body started within a few yards of our rail. The heat of the day preceding was very great.

Next day, being near the insular empire, target practice was continued; old cartridges drawn, guns loaded and shotted, and preparations made for removing the forward-rail for the clear working of our bow-guns.

CHAPTER VIII.

When day broke on the morning of the 8th July we got our first sight of the “terra incognita”—the hermetic land—the land which had been invaded but never conquered—hence called the “virgin empire.” The high, bold shores of Japan were before us—the “kingdom of the origin of the sun.”

Japan has been continually spoken of as the unknown land. It is difficult to see with what correctness this designation should have been given it, unless those countries only are known upon which the physical eye of some numbers may have rested. Taking the extant information at command, it can very properly be said, with Macfarlane, that we “know more of the Japanese than we knew of the Turks a hundred years ago;” and he might have added, than other nations knew of America, though discovered half a century earlier than Japan.

The works on the country are numerous; among them those of the Jesuits, and the German and Swedish medical officers of the Dutch prison factory at Dezima. The printed data of the former, and the archives of the Jesuit headquarters at Rome and at other places, could furnish the earliest and most thorough information. “Les Lettres Edifiantes et Curieuses,” or the pages of Charlevoix, which tell of the labors of the Jesuit pioneer missionary in Japan, Francis Xavier,—make it anything but an unknown land.

Then there are the books, whose size might well deter the stoutest, but whose pages would well repay the industrious search of the inquirer—the product of the close observation and assiduous notation of Kœmpfer,[1] Thunberg, Siebold; and the Dezima Opperhoofds—Titsinghe, Doeff, Meylan, and Warehouse Master Fischer, in lesser size; the quaint accounts of old William Adams, pilot, and Captain Saris, Englishmen; the work of the Russian Golownin, as far as he could gather information, while undergoing his hard but perhaps justly retributive imprisonment in Matsmai; the works of Sir Stamford Raffles; Reports of the East India Company; the pages of the Asiatic Journal, &c.

With such sources of information as these, it would be a piece of affectation to suppose the majority of the reading community without some knowledge of the early and past history of Japan; but for such as may possibly have not given it any attention, it may be well to give a hurried glance at the early history of the country, as derived from compilations of the before-cited authorities, and also down to the condition of the empire at the time of our visit—which is to be found in a fine synoptical article which appeared some time since in a foreign Quarterly Review—without further acknowledgment.

Well, then, to begin with the mythological. As the Japanese have it, their origin was superhuman, and their primitive history is in this wise: From primeval chaos arose a self-created supreme God, throned in the highest heaven, to whom, with some brevity, is given the name, Ameno-mi-naka-nusimo-kami. What then existed of a universe was governed by seven celestial gods who next arose. The last of these, not admiring the celibacy of his predecessors, with whom the goddesses had dwelt as sisters, took unto himself a wife. The marital state, it appears, had the effect of awakening his latent energy, and one day he said to his spouse: “There should be somewhere a habitable earth; let us seek it under the waters that are boiling beneath us.”

Like Ithuriel, he possessed a spear, and thrusting it into the waters he then withdrew it. The drops which fell from the spear—which, perhaps, was weeping the puncture which he had given the aqueous element—like the tears of Niobe, became solidified, and thus came into existence the present insulated empire.

Others, however, not having the fear of Japanese gods before their eyes, have a perverseness in the belief, that the receding waters of the deluge left bare Japan, or that it may have been since upheaved by volcanic action from the mighty deep.

The Adam of Japan was Ten Sio Dai Dsin. From him sprang the nation; though Syn Mou is represented as the founder of the empire. The physical conformation of the Japanese indicates their Mongolian origin.

The geography of the Japanese kingdom is included in a string of islands on the northeast coast of Asia, not far distant from the main land, commencing with the Kurile islands, a portion of which the empire exercises sovereignty over, and extending to the straits of Van Diemen on the south. The islands and uninhabited rocks are said to comprise three thousand eight hundred and fifty; but Japan of the present day is understood to include Yezo, Niphon, Kew Sew, and Sikok; among which the principal is Niphon, Nipon, Zipon, Zipango, or Cipango, by which names it has been called indifferently. It was for “Cipango” that Columbus sailed from Palos, and from the masthead of the “Pinto” the western world was first descried in 1492. Exactly fifty years afterward, Pinto, a Portuguese first descried “Cipango,”—“the kingdom of the origin of the sun.”

The authentic history of Japan commences in 660, B. C., with the first mortal ruler, surnamed the “Divine Conqueror.” In Niphon he built him a dairi, or temple-palace dedicated to the sun goddess. From him all the mikados, or sovereigns, claim to descend.

These self-styled divine rulers, from ceasing to command their armies, and intrusting military commands to kinsmen and others, came to abdicating so early, that the heirs of their power were still mere infants. These infants fell into the custody of others, who loved them about as well as the Duke of Gloster did those of his brothers he had conveyed to the Tower; and so the partisans of the legitimate descent, and of usurpers, immersed the kingdom in a civil war. In favor of the authority of an infant mikado, then threatened, came forth, a champion named Yoritomo, who saved the throne, by his efforts, for the imperiled juvenile sovereign, and for this service the regent allowed the real power to remain in the hands of Yoritomo, under the title of sio-i-dai-ziogoon, or “generalissimo fighting against the barbarians.” Very soon these ziogoons, from generalissimos fighting against barbarians, became generalissimos fighting against mikados. They became tenants of power by will, not by courtesy; they saved the spiritual head from overthrow, but they retained his temporal kingdom for themselves; their offices of trust became offices of power, and hereditarily so; and from Buddhist nunneries widows were even called to govern for infant ziogoons. The spiritual emperor soon became impotent in the hands of the military emperor, and the dual government gradually dwindled until the accession of the plebeian—the self-made, the Napoleon of Japan—Taico Sama, to the ziogoonship, who died in 1598, at the age of sixty-three, after having subdued Corea, curtailed the power of the princes, abolished the feudal system, and made the mikado, a mikado “about nothing!”

It would, no doubt, be now entirely true to say, that the sceptre wrenched from the mikado by the ziogoon, has in turn been wrested from the ziogoon by a council of state, and the supreme authority of Japan is now exercised by the president of the council, though the emperor is the John Doe in whose name he speaks.

Kublai-khan, when he ascended the Mongol throne, determined upon an invasion of the Japanese empire from his dependency of Kaou-le. The better to pave the way for this proceeding, he sent an embassador with the following letter to Japan:—

“The exalted emperor of the Mongols to the wang [king] of Niphon:—

“I am the prince of a formerly small state, to which the adjacent lands have united themselves, and my endeavor is to make inviolable truth and friendship reign among us. What is more, my ancestors have, in virtue of their splendid warrant from Heaven, taken possessions of Hia dominions. The number of the distant countries, of the remote cities, that fear our power and love our virtue, passes computation. When I ascended the throne, the harmless people of Kaou-le were suffering under the calamities of war. I immediately ordered a cessation of hostilities, recalling the troops from beyond the frontiers to the encampment of their colors. The prince of Kaou-le and his subjects appeared at my court to give me thanks, and I treated them kindly, as a father treats his children. So I intend that your servants shall be treated. Kaou-le is my eastern frontier; Niphon lies near, and has from the beginning held intercourse with the central empire. But during my reign, not a single envoy has appeared to open a friendly intercourse with me. I apprehend that the state of things is not, as yet, well known in your country, whereupon I send envoys, with a letter, to make you acquainted with my views, and I hope we may understand each other. Already philosophers desire to see the whole world form one family. But how may this one-family principle be carried into effect, if friendly intercourse subsist not between the parties? I am resolved to call this principle into existence, even should I be obliged to do so by force of arms. It is now the business of the wang of Niphon to decide what course is most agreeable to him.”

A contemptuous silence was the only answer that the Japanese returned to this demand. The ziogoon went immediately to work to put their coasts in a state of defence, while the mikado had stated prayers offered up.

The invaders, a hundred thousand strong, came as “the winds come when forests are rended,” and by the winds, as they came, their “navies were stranded.” The necks of those who escaped from shipwreck were severed by the Japanese blades, and three alone were spared to bear back to their country and the summer-state lord of Xanadu, the tale of disaster, and the fate of his armada. This was in October of the year 1280.

Of the advent of the Jesuits in Japan, three hundred years afterward, and the simultaneous commencement of commercial intercourse by the Portuguese; the butchery of the Christians at Simbara, (which, to their eternal infamy be it said, was assisted by the Dutch,) and the expulsion of the Portuguese; of the subsequent and continued intercourse of the Dutch; and the repulse of other Europeans and Americans, at later times, in their attempt to open a trade, down to 1837, there is no room to speak in these pages. In the introduction to the “Voyages of the Morrison and Himmaleh,” by C. W. King, the first of which ships was fired upon and driven from Japan in 1837, the history of foreign intercourse is given in a succinct form; or more elaborately in book i. of Macfarlane.

The population of Japan has been both over and under estimated; absurdly by the Russian captain Golownin, who estimated that of Yedo alone, from what he heard, at eight millions. It can be but intelligent speculation after all; and is no doubt most accurately stated when it is put down as somewhat exceeding that of Great Britain. The best information I could gain, as to the population of the city of Yedo, on the occasion of the Mississippi’s third and last visit to Japan, was that it numbered between fifteen and sixteen hundred thousand.

I can not better close this hurried chapter than by giving short extracts from two prominent English writers, published before our sailing from the United States, and containing their speculations and reflections, which it is well to contrast subsequently, with the result of the American expedition.

The first says:—

“In every case we earnestly hope that the American expedition may be conducted with firmness, but also with prudence and gentleness. Should our very enterprising and energetic brethren begin with a too free use of bowie-knives and Colt’s revolvers, the history of their mission will all be written in characters of blood; slaughters and atrocities will be committed, and an interesting people will be plunged back into complete barbarity. Though unable to contend in the field even with a small disciplined force well provided with artillery, and good artillerymen, the Japanese, if we are correctly informed as to their character, will brave death and die in heaps. We would not make any positive assertion, but we apprehend the Americans will find that little or nothing can be done by negotiation. Should force be resorted to, the best means of proceeding would probably be to take possession of one of the smaller islands, or of some peninsular or promontory that might be easily fortified on the land side. A line of intrenchments sufficiently strong to keep off any native force, might soon be made, and easily strengthened afterward. On this strong basis negotiation might probably be carried on with a better chance of success.”

The latter says:—

“Strange and singular as everything we have heard about Japan undoubtedly is, nothing is so strange or so singular as the determination of the inhabitants to resist all intercourse with their fellow-creatures, except it be the fact that they have been able to act upon the resolution with effect during two centuries. It is this consideration which sheds a tinge of romance about the operations of the American squadron. The attack upon Japan is more than an expedition, it is an adventure. In the midst of the all-absorbing prose of the every-day world we suddenly feel as if we were at once transported to the domain of Ariosto and knight-errantry. The founders of the system did ill to enlist against their cause the principle of curiosity, the most constant and powerful impulse of frail humanity. Let the plainest woman in the three kingdoms cover her face with a thick brown veil, and appear to shun observation and she will soon be followed by an inquisitive crowd. The flavor of forbidden fruit has smacked racily on mortal lips from the days of Eve downward. Be the impulse right or wrong it exists, and as it will most surely be acted on, it must not be ignored. The affair, however, is one of far too vital importance to be treated in a light or jesting spirit, for we have every reason to suppose, and to fear, that the resistance of the Japanese to the invaders will be of the most determined character. Great bloodshed and great misery will probably precede the opening up of Japan. However necessary, and however justifiable such a step may be, we are not of those who can contemplate the slaughter of a gallant people, however mistaken their cause, without a pang of regret.”

CHAPTER IX.

Before reaching the bay of Yedo, sounding-spars had been rigged out from the end of the bowsprit of each steamer, from which depended sounding-leads, that were kept constantly going as well as the leadsmen in the “chains.” As previous knowledge of the water was rather defective, the ships proceeded in with caution. The sweep of the bay is a noble one, as you approach, and the morning being a clear and lovely one, every object, from the strange-looking crafts coming continually in sight, to the summits of the high shores, and bold bluffs, were sharply defined. Then too, simultaneously with our first sight of the nolli me tangere, we got our first sight of the mountain of Japan—Foogee Yama.

Perhaps the incidents which transpired during our first short visit to Japan, can be better conveyed by giving them as jotted down at the time.

July 8.—Ship cleared for action; fore and bow-rails and iron stancheons taken down and stowed away; ports let down, guns run out into position and shotted. Flag-ship made signal, “Have no communication with shore; allow none from shore.” Nine o’clock—standing up the outer bay of Yedo; a number of Japanese junks in sight. Smaller boats, in considerable numbers, making for the ships, and crossing their bows; but the sight of the revolving-wheels makes them haul up, and they give us a wide berth as we hold our way past them. To those in the boats who never before saw a steamship, particularly two large war-steamers, towing sloops-of-war through the water at a fast rate, how wonderful must be the sight! As the ships approached the town of Uragawa, or Uraga (about three o’clock), a fort, situated on a high hill, sent up a shell high into the air; and in a little while after we heard the explosion of another. As they did not appear to be aimed at us, but probably intended as signals, or to warn us not to come to anchor in their bay, we kept on. A few moments after stopping our wheels, long sharp-built boats of pine, fastened with copper, and ornamented at the prow with a black tassel, that had not been previously observed under the shadow of a high bluff, swarmed off under oar and sail, and surrounded the ships. They were all fully manned with men in uniform, and an old chap leaned over a rail in the stern. One of the boats that reached us first, contained a mandarin with two swords, who shook a letter at us, and then attempted to board us on the port bow, but the presentation of a loaded musket, by a sentinel, made him think a little while about it. He became much enraged, turned almost white with anger, his crew keeping up the while an awful pow-wow and noise; and, with them, he tries to board again, where our rail was down, but a division of pikes staring them in the face, and a steamer’s wheels kept revolving (rather ugly things for a boat to get under), made them adjourn their determination. Drifting aft to our port-gangway and finding the prospect no better, he put off for shore, pointing to, and motioning that we must not let go our anchor, drawing and sheathing his swords, and holding up a letter. (One of these letters was thrown aboard of the Plymouth, written in French and Dutch, warning us, if we anchored there, we did it at our “peril.”) But our ships went in under their guns and let go their anchors, forming a line broadside to shore, as previously ordered by diagram from Commodore Perry. Boats continued to circle around us, the occupants of some of them appearing to be making drawings of us, but they took care to keep at a respectable distance. In the evening, the lieutenant-governor of the province, Kayama Yesaimon, came off in a boat with streamers, and his rank being announced, he was allowed to come on board the flag-ship. The commodore would not receive him, but turned him over to his flag-lieutenant. In the meantime they commenced the formation of a cordon of boats around the ships. The Japanese functionary was first asked why this was being done. He said it was Japanese “custom.” He was at once told that it was an American “custom” not to allow any such thing; that these boats must be sent away, not only from the flag, but the other ships; and if not away in fifteen minutes, they would be fired into. The boats left for shore. The governor wished to know what these ships had come there for. He was told that our commodore had a letter from our chief magistrate to his emperor. He said that their laws would only allow them to receive the letter at Nangasaki; that he would inform the authorities at Yedo of the arrival of the ships and of the letter; and that it would be four days before any answer could be received. The commodore directed it to be told him that he would wait three days and a half, and if, at the end of that time, there was not some one to receive our president’s letter, that with five hundred men he would land, and deliver the letter himself. The governor then went ashore. In the evening the steam-chimney was ordered to be kept protected; no coal to be taken from the bunkers so as to expose the engines; steam to be kept up, and every suitable person on board ship directed to stand strict guard during the night, armed with cutlass, carbine, &c., and blue and red signal lights agreed upon between the ships, to be hoisted upon the appearance of any burning junks sent down upon us, or other danger during the night.

July 9.—Still at anchor off the harbor and town of Uraga, each ship with springs on her cable. Uraga is the seaport of Yedo, and said to contain twenty thousand inhabitants. Innumerable junks, with white-laced sails, have been continually arriving and departing since we have been here, having to be examined by officers of the customs, both going up and coming down. We can only see a portion of the town, the remainder being shut in by the narrow entrance to its harbor. During my mid-watch, last night, the Japanese ashore were striking, at intervals, a sweet and deep-toned bell, probably as a tocsin; while from the stern of each of the immense number of boats, anchored side by side, in shore, shone bright lights through lanterns of every color, making one long necklace of light, in front of the town of Humai, situated in the midst of forts and water-batteries. At sunrise, through a spy-glass could be discerned a number of fortifications along shore, extending up to a point which marks the entrance to the inner bay. There was also visible a number of long striped-cloth curtains, containing armorial figures of the different princes of the empire, the encampment of whose soldiers they are designed to mark out. The soldiers, like those previously seen in the boats, wear loose sacks of red, green, or blue, unconfined in front, and having in white on their backs the insignia of the prince whom they serve. There was a great deal of marching and countermarching, with gay banners, &c., between the different forts. The calibre of the guns in the embrasures, could not be made out, being kept under cover, or, as the sailors say, in “petticoats.” On a very well-designed fort, circular in plan, intended to protect the entrance to the harbor of Uraga, were a number of the natives at work. About nine o’clock, boats well-armed were sent from each ship, with lead-lines, to ascertain the depth of water between the ships and the shore. These boats pulled as high as the upper fort, where the uppermost one was surrounded by Japanese guard-boats, who ordered them back, but did not attempt anything else, some of our oars being trailed, and the curtains over the muskets raised up for their edification. Our boats paid no further attention to them, but continued to stand in and pull close down the shore, getting soundings as they went, and at the same time making a rather bold reconnoissance of their guns and forts, who did not fire upon them, as many watching from the ships, at one time thought they would do.

July 10—Sunday.—A number of boats came off and rowed around the ship; troops, apparently, collecting on shore. Japanese at work on a fort just opposite to us. Weather clear. The steep shores, well-wooded, looking fine as they are brightened by the sun-light. Evening—A whale blowed not far from the ship. Foogee Yama obscured by cloud. During the day, the capstan having been dressed as usual, and books distributed, the chaplain gave out the hymn, commencing commencing—

“Before Jehovah’s awful throne,

Ye nations, bow with sacred joy,”

and with the aid of many of the fine voices of the crew, and the assistance of the bass instruments of the band, in sight of heathen temples, and, perhaps, in the hearing of their worshippers, swelled up “Old Hundred” like a deep diapason of old ocean.

July 11.—By order of the commodore, the Mississippi was ordered to get under way, and stood up the straits, following slowly after our boats sent to sound the inner bay, to ascertain the practicability of reaching the capital, our present anchorage being twenty-five miles from the city of Yedo. Passed close in under the chief fort, on the point beyond which no “barbarian” ship had ever been permitted to go. Fort did not fire. On debouching we entered a magnificent bay, of great extent, bounded on its western side by picturesque slopes, bold bluffs, with here and there a village between them, deeply indented coves, and a well-wooded island, crowned with a three-gun battery, which on our survey chart was called “Perry island.” Our boats continued to sound ahead during the day, the Japanese guard-boats enveloping them and attempting to impede their progress by getting across their track, but attempted nothing further. Two little brass howitzers, on each of our forward guards, loaded with grape and cannister, would probably have caused some dancing among them if they had. On the east of us, on a long low sand beach, through a spy-glass could be seen an encampment of Japanese troops, near a breastwork, dressed in black figured clothes, and surmounted with banners. This was probably an “army of observation.” We continued to hold our way up the bay until a late hour, as far as a high bluff of clay-stone, which was named “Mississippi bluff,” as a token that it was nearer to the palace of the ziogoon of Japan than any foreign ship had ventured to go before. Our boats were then taken in tow, and we started on our return to the anchorage we had left in the morning. A two-sworded mandarin attempted to make his boat fast to one of our boats astern, that he might get a tow back, and I was surprised to hear him ask in English, “Are you going back?” The sailors in the boats were ordered to cut his line if he made fast to them. He was much angered as our wheels left him in the distance. We regarded his proposition for a tow, as cool as a fellow who would play spy on you all day, and then ask you to take him home in a carriage at night. On our way back we passed through a flotilla of their boats, when our chief engineer opened our steam-whistle. Never were human beings more astounded, when the unearthly noise reached their ears, the fellows at the sculls dropped their oars and stood aghast. To all of the day’s doings the inhabitants of the different towns, and the troops strung along shore, have been constant and watchful observers. They could not understand what our movements meant. Jonathan’s boldness had dumbfounded them.

July 12.—Governor of Uraga came aboard and urged Nangasaki as the proper place at which Japan could receive foreign communications. Commodore Perry replied that his government had sent him to Yedo, and that he would go nowhere else to deliver his letter. The Japanese officials then pretended to hold a conference ashore, and afterward brought off word that they would receive the letter at a point which they would make known. It was afterward arranged that the reception of the letter was to be by a high officer, sent from the capital for the especial purpose; the place, a bay below the town of Uraga, and that it would take two days for them to get up a building for the ceremony. They said they had selected this spot for its privacy, that their rabble population might not be present; and as the whole thing was without precedent with them, and against their laws;—also, probably, because they did not wish us to get a sight of their towns, or a nearer view of their forts. The governor and his two interpreters at this interview remained aboard some time, and were very observant of everything, and evinced more information than could have been expected. The engine-room astonished them, though with Japanese self-possession they concealed much. They laughed, and were untiring in their attention to cherry brandy. On being shown a daguerreotype, they immediately called its name. On a globe they pointed out Boston, New York, Philadelphia, New Orleans, &c.; gave the boundaries of Mexico, and said our country had a part of Mexico; if our mission was a peaceful one, why did we have four ships-of-war to bring one letter? (Commodore told them that it was a greater compliment to their emperor—probably!) Wished to know why the steam-vessel “Mississippi” went up the inner bay so far? It was replied that the commodore had more ships in these waters, and if they should render it necessary that they would all come with him, the next time he came; he desired an anchorage less exposed than the one we were then lying at.

July 13.—Some little suspicion of treachery ashore; much conference going on among chief mandarins. Boats were sent from the ships to go and sound off the mouth of the appointed place, to see whether any of the ships could get in sufficiently near to cover and protect the landing of the boats; orders issued prescribing who were to compose the landing party; some will have to stay on board the ships; poor fellows! Bad day for Japanese to-morrow, if they attempt with us the treacherous game that they played upon Golownin:—

“The Americans must not quit their wooden walls.”—London Press.

July 14.—Bright and beautiful day. Much activity and preparation for the landing; boats being lowered away, percussion-caps distributed, and twenty rounds of ball-cartridges delivered to each man; officers rigging in undress uniforms, and arming mostly with cutlasses and Colt’s six-shooters. Quartermasters fastening American ensigns on pikes. General orders received early in the morning. The Susquehanna and Mississippi will anchor in the position assigned them. The Plymouth will retain her present position, and the Saratoga to get into her berth if possible, but not to get out of range of the forts and town. The ships will watch the proceedings on shore, having their guns primed and pointed, and their remaining boats alongside, with arms in them, ready in a moment to shove ashore, if the commanding officers think there is need of them. The boats which carry the officers, sailors, and marines on shore, are all to have anchors, and after landing their respective crews, are to haul off about fifty feet from shore and anchor, keeping their men at their arms and watching the proceedings on shore, and if they are called on shore the officers of the boats will land with all but two men, who are to be left as boat-keepers; bread and water in the boats. At daybreak the Susquehanna and Mississippi steam-frigates tripped their anchors, dropped down, and anchored immediately across the entrance of the bay where we were to land, to protect and cover the landing, having springs on their cables, that their broadside of guns might be trained on the shore. The sloop-of-war Plymouth commanded the town of Uraga, and the Saratoga, that of Humai, and the forts surrounding it. At nine o’clock, our boats armed and manned, went alongside of the flag-ship, where were the boats of the Saratoga and Plymouth. After some delay the boats moved ashore. The captain of the Susquehanna and officers, leading; Captain Walker of the Saratoga and officers next, then the Mississippi’s boats, in the first of which I was, under Lieutenant Taylor. Following in line came the remaining boats of all the ships, with sailors, marines, two bands, &c.

The place selected by the Japanese for the delivery of the letter, was a bay of some mile and a quarter in depth, surrounded by an amphitheatre of bold hills, its entrance being narrow, and defended by forts on either side. At the head of this bay, following the line of a crescent beach of black and white sand, ankle-deep, is the town of Gorihama. In the distance, with its veil of blue, and patches of snow, towering up fifteen thousand feet, shone the extinct volcano of Foogee. The boats, as they pulled in, presented a fine sight; the “flower-flag,” as the Chinese call it, waving gracefully from the stern of each boat; the bright muskets shining in the sun, and the epaulettes glistening. The landing was done in fine order, and with great promptitude, under the command of Major Zeilen, of the marine corps. Each man, as the boat touched the beach, jumped ashore, and took his proper place in line, which, when formed, presented a bold front, notwithstanding officers and men all told, it scarcely exceeded four hundred men; and encircling them a few paces in rear, and as far as one could see, on either hand, in horse-shoe form, were Japanese troops, who had been collected there for the occasion, armed with spears and bows, long bayonet brass-mounted muskets, and matchlocks, with ready fuses, coiled on their right arms. In their front, equi-distant, sat their officers on stools, armed with two swords. Near by, not very large, were a number of horses richly caparisoned about the head, and with gaudy housings, belonging to the officers. Extending all around were canvass curtains supported by stakes driven in the ground, with different insignias painted on the front, and festooned with blue cords and tassels; at the termination of each one floated the colored flag of each particular prince, whose men were present. The shining and gilded lacquered broadbrims of the Japanese; the varied costumes, brilliant colors, flapping flags, and curtain enclosures, all overhung by a dense green of trees, as the eye took them in, made one think that he had come to be a spectator of some joust or tourney. The Japanese say they had five thousand men present, but I hardly think there were as many, unless some were hid in the town, whose houses in our direction were concealed behind temporary walls of thatching straw.

A salute of thirteen guns from the flag-ship, which caused some little stir among the Japanese troops, who did not seem exactly to understand it, announced that the commodore and his immediate suite had left, in his barge, for shore. In a little while he landed on a small jutty, made of rice-straw and sand, passing through a street formed of his own officers, to his place in line, when the squadron band struck up “Hail Columbia” in a style, and with a force that made the Japanese open their ears (they may have to listen to it again), and the hills around sent each note of “Hail Columbia” back again. “Hail Columbia” never sounded better. The column of escort with the marines in front, a stalwart sailor with the broad pennant; commodore and staff; suite of officers; boxes containing president’s letter, &c.; two men over six feet high, each, with pikes upon which American ensigns were fastened, with revolving rifles slung across their shoulders; sailors with bronzed muskets; Mississippi’s band, &c.; and marines then marched to the building for the ceremony; shown the way by two Japanese officials. The sailors were in blue trousers and white frocks, prettily bisected with the slings of their cartridge boxes, and wore blue cloth caps, with bands of red, white, and blue, ornamented with thirteen stars in white. The marines were in full uniform. The room of ceremony was reached by passing through a small canopied court; enclosed with primitive landscape screens, the floor of which was covered with matting. The place of audience was a room in a thatched building, limited in space, and entirely open in the direction of the court, ornamented with gauze curtains as drapery. At the back of the room were representations of shrubbery, and of cranes wheeling in flight over it, while on the two remaining sides, were hung large blue flags, having in the centre one large and eight smaller satellite representations. Overhead you looked up to thatching, and each rafter was marked with Japanese characters, as if the building had been originally constructed at some other place, probably at Yedo, and sent down for erection. On the left of the room as you entered by ascending one step, was seated the chief Japanese functionary, appointed by the emperor to receive the president’s letter, the prince of Idzoo; beside him was the prince of the province of Iwami; behind him quite a number of two-sworded mandarins. The chief man was attired in a maroon silk robe, with an over-garment of red, blue cloth socks, with places left for the great toe. On the back of the red over-garment, were figures worked in white, some resembling cornucopias. His suite were attired in the same manner with slight exceptions. On the other side of the room were placed ornamental chairs, with well-designed arm-rests, in which were seated Commodore Perry and suite.

Dr. Williams, of Canton, was present as interpreter of the Japanese language; although his services were not called into requisition. Mr. A. L. C. Portman, the commodore’s clerk, as it was most agreeable to the Japanese, acted as interpreter in the Dutch language. The floor of the chamber was covered with mats, having spread over them in the centre of the room, cloths resembling red felt blankets, indifferently dyed. After the manner of the Japanese, two interpreters were in attendance on the prince, one of them squatted on the floor near our interpreter, partially facing the chief and another (Kayama Yesaimon, governor of Uraga) on his haunches immediately in front of him. Midway, in rear of the room, was placed a brightly-lacquered red chest, resting upon eight feet, with its deep and projecting lid, confined by tasselled cords of blue. The gilt ornamental design in front resembled the rose of the Gothic style. The officers of the ships occupied the court facing the platform.

Everything being announced ready, and obeisance interchanged between the prince and commodore, beautiful rosewood-boxes, hinged, clamped, and clasped with gold, having inscriptions with German-text letters, let in with gold on their tops, which had been carried by side-boys, were then brought in, and displayed upon the chest. Mr. Portman opened them to assure the Japanese of the presence of the letters; and the interpreter was directed to inform the prince, which was done, one interpreter whispering to the other, that in the boxes were also translations of our president’s letter, in Dutch and Chinese. The credentials from the emperor empowering the prince of Idzoo to receive the letter, were then handed over by the prince, and taken charge of by the flag-lieutenant, having been duly examined the day before on shipboard. The letter of the president was as follows:—

MILLARD FILLMORE,

President of the United States of America,

To his Imperial Majesty,

THE EMPEROR OF JAPAN.

Great and Good Friend!