class passengers. In fine weather they crowd the forward
deck, squatting upon their hams in picturesque groups, and playing cards
or dominos for small stakes of money. The Chinese are inveterate
gamblers, but are satisfied generally to play for very small stakes.
When the sea becomes rough and a storm rages, they exhibit great
timidity, giving up all attempts at amusement. On such occasions, with
sober faces and trembling hands, they prepare pieces of joss-paper
(scraps with magic words), bearing Chinese letters, and cast them
overboard to propitiate the anger of the special god who controls the
sea. The dense, noxious smell which always permeates their quarters, in
spite of enforced ventilation and the rules of the ship, is often wafted
unpleasantly to our own part of the vessel, telling a significant story
of the opium pipe, and a certain uncleanliness of person peculiar to
Africans and Mongolians.

After a three weeks' voyage we reach Yokohama, the commercial capital of
Japan. When Commodore Perry opened this port in 1854 with a fleet of
American men-of-war, it was scarcely more than a fishing village, but it
has now a population of a hundred and thirty thousand, with well-built
streets of dwelling-houses, the thoroughfares broad and clean, and all
macadamized. The town extends along the level shore, but is backed by a
half-moon of low, wooded hills, known as the Bluff, among which are the
dwellings of the foreign residents, built after the European and
American style. A deep, broad canal surrounds the city, passing by the
large warehouses, and connected with the bay at each end, being crossed
by several handsome bridges. If we ascend the road leading to the Bluff
we have a most charming and extended view. In the west, seventy miles
away, the white, cloud-like cone of Fujiyama, a large volcanic mountain
of Japan, can clearly be discerned, while all about us lie the pretty
villas of the foreign settlers.

[Illustration: MODE OF TRAVELLING IN JAPAN. A JINRIKSHA.]

In looking about this commercial capital everything strikes us as
curious; every new sight is a revelation, while in all directions
tangible representations of the strange pictures we have seen upon fans
and lacquered ware are presented to view. One is struck by the partial
nudity of men, women, and children, the extremely simple architecture of
the dwelling-houses, the peculiar vegetation, the extraordinary
salutations between the common people who meet ea