ion they
required; each carried with her a little lacquered box, with three
sliding drawers, in which was neatly and cleanly stowed her
dinner--rice, fish, and vegetables; taking out all the drawers, and
laying them on her lap, with a pair of chop-sticks, she soon demolished
her frugal meal. After a whiff or two at a pipe, whose bowl just
contained enough tobacco for two draws, she was ready to resume her
work.

The European concession occupies the most picturesque position in
Nagasaki, from which city it is separated by a creek, well known to our
blue-jackets, spanned by two or three bridges. On either side of this
strip of water a perfect cosmopolitan colony of beer-house keepers have
assembled, with the sole intention of "bleeding" the sailor, and upon
whose well-known devotion, to the shrine of Bass and Allsop, they
manage to amass considerable fortunes.

Before leaving Nagasaki I would ask you to accompany me to one of
the temples, that known as the Temple of the Horse, being, perhaps,
the best. It is rather a long distance by foot, but Englishmen,
at least according to Japanese ideas, have too much money to walk
when they can ride, so to keep up the national conceit, but more
for our own convenience, we jump into an elegant little carriage, or
"_jin-riki-sha_," literally "_man-power-carriage_," but in sailor phrase
"johnny-ring-shaw," or short "ring shaw." Away we go, a dozen or more in
a line, over the creek bridge, past Desima, which we leave on our left
hand, and soon we are in the heart of the native city, and traversing
what is popularly known as "curio" street. At this point we request our
human horses to trot, instead of going at the mad speed usual to them,
in order that we make notes of Japanese life by the way. We pass many
shops devoted to the sale of lacquer ware, for which the Japanese are so
justly famed, catch glimpses of unequalled egg shell, and Satsuma china,
made of a clay, formed only in this neighbourhood, and which, thanks to
the European mania for collecting, fetch the most fancy prices; get a
view of silk shops, full of rich stuffs and embroideries. Here an artist
tinting a fan or a silk lantern; there a woman weaving cloth for the use
of her household and everywhere people plying their various callings on
the elevated floors of their houses. I should say needle making amongst
these people is a rather laborious undertaking, and one which requires
more than an ordinary amount of patience.