strangely
interesting life of Japan. Thirty miles from Yomoto, and Totsuka provides
me a comfortable yadoya, where the people quickly show their knowledge of
the foreigner's requirements by cooking a beefsteak with onions, also in
the morning by charging the first really exorbitant price I have been
confronted with along the Tokaido. Totsuka is within the treaty limits of
Yokohama. A mile or so toward Yokohama I pass, in the morning, the "White
Horse Tavern," kept in European style as a sort of road-house for
foreigners driving out from that city or Tokio.

A fierce wind, blowing from the south, fairly wafts me along the last
eleven miles of the Tokaido, from Totsuka to Yokohama. The wind, indeed,
has been generally favorable since the rain-storm at Okabe, but it fairly
whistles this morning. It calls to mind the Kansas wheelman, who claimed
to have once spread his coat-tails to the breeze and coasted from
Lawrence to Kansas City in three hours. Unfortunately I am wearing a coat
the pattern of which does not admit of using the tails for sails
otherwise the homestretch of the tour around the world might have
provided one of the most unique incidents of the many I have encountered
on the journey.

A battery of field-artillery, the smartest seen since leaving Germany, is
encountered in the streets of Kanagawa, at which point the road to
Yokohama branches off from the Tokaido. The great Imperial highway, along
which I have travelled from the old capital almost to the new, continues
on to the latter, seventeen miles farther. Since the completion of the
railway between Tokio and Kanagawa, travellers journeying from the
capital down the Tokaido usually ride on the train to Kanagawa, so that
the jinrikisha journey proper nowadays commences at the latter city.

Kanagawa is practically a suburban part of Yokohama: one Japanese-owned
clock observed here points to the hour of eight, another to eleven, and a
third to half past-nine, but the clock at the Club Hotel, on the Yokohama
bund, is owned by an Englishman, and is just about striking ten, when the
last vault from the saddle of the bicycle that has carried me through so
many countries is made. And so the bicycle part of the tour around the
world, which was begun April 22, 1884, at San Francisco, California, ends
December 17, 1886, at Yokohama.

At this port I board the Pacific mail steamer City of Peking, which in
seventeen days lands me in San Francisco. Of the enthusiastic