nth day out, we expected to anchor at
Yokohama, but a fearful wind arose; the captain left his seat at the
dinner table in haste and ordered the ship's course changed. We were
skirting a terrific typhoon. We were in sight of land, but instead of
reaching it at seven-thirty in the evening we did not accomplish it
until 10 o'clock Monday morning. The steamer "Belgic" was stranded that
night forty-three miles from Yokohama. The captain, who had for forty
years made successful trips, was destined to see his vessel wrecked; no
lives were lost but the rebuke he received cost him the loss of his
position--and much greater the loss of reason. He was taken to a
madhouse.

The 9th of September found us in the hands of our guide, who had been
engaged to meet us on board the vessel on our arrival. Jinrikishas were
in waiting, we rode to the custom house and from there to the Hotel
Grand, along the Bund skirting the water's edge. The sun shone
brilliantly, and all Nature seemed to bid us welcome. The hotel site is
unequaled; the gentle sea breezes seem to follow us; Englishmen and
Americans crowded the verandas, and apparently gave us a warm welcome.
Long lines of jinrikishas formed a barrier between the waters of Yeddo
Bay and the hotel, each in charge of a coolie, whose dress (if any)
shocked us; but to this nude condition we soon became oblivious.

A ride along the shore of the Mississippi Bay, and through the country
where rice and millet grow abundantly, in a jinrikisha with a good
natured coolie is a delight. The Bungalow of the native all exposed to
view is a sample of neatness, while the children, most gentle with each
other, play in numbers around the home.

On this drive and but a short distance from Yokohama is the English
concession, homes hidden almost from view by high walls and dense
foliage. In that land of sunshine, with the cool breeze from the sea,
the constant influx of European and American travelers, keeping one in
touch with the world and with the simplicity of the surroundings, one
can imagine a tranquilizing life and a happy coterie.

The streets of Yokohama are narrow, the houses of one, sometimes two
stories, all on line with the sidewalk and with apparently no privacy.
The gutters are flushed with water, which seems to be used for all
purposes, even to the bathing of children. The absence of horses gives
ample room for the masses of men, women and children who throng the
streets. No haste is manifeste