; others had very severe knife
wounds; a few were killed right out. When the battle was over, few were
found to have escaped without a bruise or a wound, and yet, after all,
very few were actually killed, considering how viciously they fought.
Indeed, there were in all only about half a dozen dead bodies left on the
battle-field when the combatants departed to the sound of the "big bell"
which announced the closing of the city gates.

After a long discussion on the part of the leaders, it was announced that
the battle was to be considered a draw, and that it would, therefore,
have to be renewed on the next afternoon. The argument, I was told, was
that, though the other side had managed to penetrate the camp on my side,
yet they had not been able to completely rout us, we having made a firm
stand against them. For the following two or three days, however, it
snowed heavily, and the fighting had to be postponed; and on the day it
actually did take place, to my great sorrow, I was unable to attend,
owing to a command to go to the palace. To my satisfaction I was
subsequently informed that the plasterers, that is to say, my side, had
ultimately come off victorious.

The police generally attend these battles, but only to protect the
spectators, and not to interfere in any way with the belligerents.
Soldiers are prohibited from taking any active part in fights which have
no concern for them; but they may fight as much as ever they please among
themselves during the free period allowed by the law. The fights of the
latter class are usually very fierce, and are invariably carried out with
bare chest and arms, that their uniforms may not be spoiled.

When that dreadful fortnight of fighting is over, the country again
assumes its wonted quiet; new debts are contracted, fresh hatreds and
jealousies are fomented, and fresh causes are procured for further
stone-battles during the first moon of the next year.

Such is life in Cho-sen, where, with the exception of those fifteen days,
there is calm, too much of it, not only in the morning, in accordance
with the national designation, but all through both day and night; where,
month after month, people vegetate, instead of live, leading the most
monotonous of all monotonous lives. It is not surprising, then, that once
a year, as a kind of redeeming point, they feel the want of a vigorous
re-action; and, I am sure, for such a purpose as this, they could not
have devised anything wilde