resent day a husband would be considered quite justified in the eye of
the law if he were to kill his wife for the great sin of having spoken to
another man but himself! A widow of the upper class is not allowed to
re-marry, and if she claims any pretence of having loved her late
husband, she ought to try to follow him to the other world at the
earliest convenience by committing the _jamun_, a simple performance by
which the devoted wife is only expected to cut her throat or rip her
body open with a sharp sword. They say that it is a mere nothing, when
you know how to do it, but it always struck me, that practising a little
game of that sort would not be an easy matter. For the sake of truth, I
must confess that it was a husband who depreciated the worthy act. The
lower people are infinitely more sensible. Though a woman of this class
were to lose twenty husbands, she would never for a moment think of doing
away with herself, but would soon enter into her twenty-first matrimonial
alliance.

Women, somehow or other, are scarce in Corea, and always in great demand.
The coolies, and people of a similar or lower standing, cannot do without
a female companion, for it is she who prepares the food, washes the
clothes, and sews them up. She is beaten constantly, and very often she
beats the man, for the Corean woman can have a temper at times. Jealousy
_en plus_ is one of her chief virtues. I have seen women in Seoul nearly
tearing one another to pieces, and, O Lord! how masterly they are in the
art of scratching. The men on such occasions stand round them,
encouraging them to fight, the husbands enjoying the fun more than the
other less interested spectators. The women of the lower classes seem to
be in a constant state of excitement and anger. They are always insulting
one another, calling each other names, or scolding and even ill-treating
their own children. What is more extraordinary still to European ears, is
that I once actually saw a wife stand up for her husband, and she did it
in a way that I am not likely soon to forget.

A soldier was peacefully walking along a narrow street, half of which
was a sort of drain canal, the water of which was frozen over, when a man
came out of a house and stopped him. The conversation became hot at once,
and with my usual curiosity, the only virtue I have ever possessed, I
stopped to see the result.

"You must pay me back the money I lent you," said the civilian in a very
angry tone