majestic sides, of the sweeping coast-line far away to east and west, and of the islands dotting the distant sea. Rising up from the plains, or clinging to the mountainsides, are wreaths of the early mist; on the rich woods and on the mountain-tops are hues of the brightest and the deepest green; on the calm sea and in the sky overhead is a blue equal to the best Italian: all combine to render this varied view of mountain and coast, lake and sea, forest and plain, more beautiful than any that has hitherto rested in our memory.

Descending to Hakoni, we start again for Ashinoyu. Our walk leads us round the shores of the lake for a mile or more, and through an avenue of cryptomerias which in England would make any nobleman's park famous. The trees are all well grown, and of very even height, the average apparently being just about 100 feet; the girth of many of them is as much as twelve and fourteen feet; their trunks are all as straight as a ship's mast, and the rich green of their foliage contrasts finely with the light green moss which creeps up their stems, or the dark red bark which is their natural clothing.

The avenue leads to a temple said to have been erected to the memory of a Shogun who lived 200 years ago, and who was deified after death. Near the end of the avenue is also a bronze statue of Yeso-Sama, one of Buddha's disciples, and now a god, whose attributes are compassion and mercy. The statue is placed close to the border of the lake; in front of it is a stone water-bowl, in which worshippers wash their hands before offering their prayers to the deity.

From Hakoni to Ashinoyu is but a walk of three miles; from the latter place we walk down a narrow gorge, beautifully wooded and full of a rich variety of ferns and flowers, to Hatta, half way down the Hakoni pass.

Just before entering the village we pass by several model gardens, along one of which runs a hedge of azaleas, nearly twenty yards in length, and about four feet in height and breadth. Nowhere have we seen this 'pride of Japan' in greater perfection, for the whole hedge is a glowing mass of crimson.

Hatta abounds in shops full of tasteful woodwork, and in model tea-houses; one of the latter we declare, after trial, to be the best we have yet found in our tour. The mats are as clean and spotless as if no foot had ever trodden on them, and behind the house, on the side of the hill, is a little garden, twenty yards square-a perfect bijou group of rockwork, dwarf trees, miniature waterfalls, and gold-fish ponds.

We spend a couple of hours in trying our fortune at fishing on the rocky stream that runs through the pass; but we are inclined to think that a Frank Buckland is wanted in Japan, for the streams are so netted that there are few fish left in them, and what are left seem very small.

A morning's walk of eight miles takes us down the remainder of the Hakoni Pass to Odawara. The pass is hemmed in by lofty and richly-wooded slopes: the Tocaido, in its course through it, is laid with a succession of round boulder-stones, over which the straw-shod pack-horses, laden with merchandise of various kinds, pick their way with difficulty.

From Odawara to within two miles of Yokohama we follow again the course of the Tocaido. This length of five-and-thirty miles of high road is through more than half its extent lined with houses on either side, forming an almost continuous line of villages. As we pass along, nearly all the villagers are busy with their corn, recently gathered in, and before every door are spread a number of mats, on which the grain is drying in the sun, while here

and there is a woman busily winnowing it by the simple process of letting it fall through the breeze, or wielding with almost masculine energy on the unthrashed ears a heavy flail.

The part of the Tocaido not lined with village-houses is generally bordered by handsome pines and firs; it is in most parts picturesque, and from many points commands beautiful views. We cross several rivers between Odawara and Fuji-sawa, either riding our ponies through them, or committing ourselves to the mercies of the regular ferry-porters, who carry us across on their backs or on small portable platforms.

We stay a night at Fuji-sawa, where our experience corroborates the statement that the native tea-houses are worst when nearest a foreign settlement. An influx of 'Jacks' with bottles of beer or of worse liquor, with dirty boots, and no respect for mats, must tend to render a Japanese landlord desperate of cleanliness and neatness.

Indeed, it is much to be regretted that many Europeans, when settled in these distant countries, far from any influence of public opinion, not only will not respect and copy the natives in their good points, but even take advantage of their more lax ideas on many other points to throw overboard the higher morality which they might have imported with them from the West. Our intercourse with Japan is not likely to confer real benefit on the Japanese or on ourselves till this is altered.

From Fuji-sawa is a short two hours' ride to Yokohama. Here, as we began, so we end our country trip, much regretting that the approaching departure of a Pacific mail-steamer prevents our further acquaintance with Japan, its beautiful country, and its interesting people.

CHAPTER XIX.

ACROSS TO SAN FRANCISCO.

Nequidquam Deus abscidit

Prudens Oceano dissociabili

Terras, si tamen impiæ

Non tangenda rates transiliunt vada.'-Hor. Od. 1.

Vain the god's forethought by the disjoining sea

To sever land from land,

If ships speed o'er the waters impiously

To each forbidden strand.'

IF the Roman poet dubbed 'impious' the vessels that in his time ventured from shore to shore of the Mediterranean, what epithet would he find for the great steamers which now ply regularly across the North Pacific Ocean? Four years ago the mild Pacific was the only ocean whose 'dissociable' influence was still unbroken; now it forms but another of the great highways of the world.' The great' side-wheelers' of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company cross it in each direction every month, and already the Company has found the traffic both ways increase so much that a bi-monthly service is talked of as soon to be established.

6

A lengthened account of the voyage from Yokohama to San Francisco would indeed be weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable.' What interest could there be in a detailed narrative of twenty-two days spent on board a steamer; and of a voyage over nearly 5,000 miles of sea, during the whole of which not a speck of land, not a single sailing vessel, and only one steamer, is sighted-a voyage in