evening;
beneath the summits in full sunlight, the base of the mountains and
all the thickly wooded parts near the water's edge were steeped in
twilight.

The passing junks, gleaming white against the background of dark
foliage, were silently and dexterously maneuvered by small yellow men,
stark naked, with long hair piled up in womanlike fashion on their
heads. Gradually, as we advanced further up the green channel, the
perfumes became more penetrating, and the monotonous chirp of the
cicalas swelled out like an orchestral crescendo. Above us, on the
luminous sky, sharply delineated between the mountains, a species of
hawk hovered about, screaming out with a deep human voice, "Han! Han!
Han!" its melancholy call lengthened out by the surrounding echoes.

All this fresh and luxurious nature bore the impress of a peculiar
Japanese type, which seemed to pervade even the mountain tops, and
consisted, as it were, in an untruthful aspect of too much prettiness.
The trees were grouped in clusters, with the same pretentious grace as
on the lacquered trays. Large rocks sprang up in exaggerated shapes,
side by side with rounded lawn-like hillocks; all the incongruous
elements of landscape were grouped together as though it were an
artificial creation.

Looking intently, here and there might be seen, often built in
counterscarp on the very brink of an abyss, some old, tiny, mysterious
pagoda; half hidden in the foliage of the overhanging trees; bringing
to the minds of new arrivals such as ourselves, the sense of
unfamiliarity and strangeness; and the feeling that in this country,
the Spirits, the Sylvan Gods, the antique symbols, faithful guardians
of the woods and forests, were unknown and uncomprehended.

* * * * *

When Nagasaki rose before us, the sight that greeted our eyes was
disappointing; situated at the foot of green overhanging mountains, it
looked like any other commonplace town. In front of it lay a tangled
mass of vessels, carrying all the flags of the world; steamboats just
as in any other port, with dark funnels and black smoke, and behind
them quays covered with factories: nothing in fact was wanting in the
way of ordinary, trivial, every-day objects.

Some day, when man shall have made all things alike, the earth will be
a dull, tedious dwelling-place, and we shall have even to give up
traveling and seeking for a change which shall no longer be found.

At about six o'clo