lected in the limpid ice of the frozen river, the sight was
indeed quite a picturesque one.

Towards the south side of Seoul, and within the city wall, rises in a
cone-like fashion a high hill called Mount Nanzam. One cannot help
feeling interested about this hill, and for many reasons. In the first
place, it is most picturesque; secondly, it is a rare thing to find a
mountain rising in the centre of a town, as this one does; thirdly, from
the summit of this particular hill a constant watch is kept on the state
of affairs all over the kingdom.

The mode of accomplishing the last-mentioned object is as ingenious as it
is simple. It is shortly this. On the summit of Mount Nanzam a signal
station is placed--a miserable shed, in which the watchmen live. In front
of this, five piles of stones have been erected, upon which, by means of
the "Pon-wa," or fire-signals, messages are conveyed and transmitted from
one end of the Corean kingdom to the other. Now, it is on these five
piles of stones that the safety of the Land of the Morning Calm depends,
and it is a pretty and weird sight to watch the lights upon them, playing
after dark, in the stillness of the night. Similarly appointed stations
on the tops of all the highest peaks in Corea issue, transmit, and
answer, by means of other lights, messages from the most distant
provinces, by which means, in a very few minutes, the King in his royal
palace is kept informed of what happens hundreds of miles from his
capital. It is from the royal palace itself that fire-messages start in
the first instance, and that too is the place which lastly receives them
from other mountain tops. All along the coast line of Corea, on the
principal headlands, fire-stations have long been in use in order to give
the alarm in the capital, should marauders approach the coast or other
invasions take place.

Until quite lately, the coast villages and towns used to suffer much at
the hands of Chinese pirates, who, though well aware that they would, if
caught, most certainly find themselves in the awkward position of having
their heads cut off, nevertheless used to approach the coast by night in
swift junks, make daring raids, and pillage the villages, and even some
of the smaller towns. So suddenly were these incursions usually made that
by the time the natives had managed to get over their astonishment at the
attack of these unpleasant and greedy visitors, the acute Chinamen, with
their booty, were wel