ous in the praise they bestow on its charms of landscape. Even
rollicking and light-hearted tars, who, as a rule, are not very sensible
to the beauties of nature, are bound to use "unqualified expressions of
delight," when that "bright banner" lies unfurled under their gaze. And
of all this beauteous land no part of it is more beautiful than the bay
of Ommura, in the month of May.

Coming towards Nagasaki, from the westward, is like sailing on to a line
of high, rigid, impenetrable rocks, for, apparently, we are heading
blindly on to land which discloses not the slightest indication of an
opening; but, relying on the accuracy of our charts, and the skill of
our officers, we assume we are on the right course. By-and-bye the land,
as if by some magic power, seems to rend asunder, and we find ourselves
in a narrow channel, with well-wooded eminences on either hand, clothed
with handsome fir trees. Right in front of us, and hiding the view of
the town, is a small cone-shaped island of great beauty. English is a
weak language in which to express clearly its surpassing loveliness.
This is Takabuko, or more familiarly, Papenberg, a spot with a sad and
bloody history, for it was here that the remnant of the persecuted
Christians, who escaped the general massacre in 1838,--when 30,000
perished--made a last ineffectual stand for their lives and faith. But
to no purpose, for pressed to extremities by the swords of their
relentless persecutors, they threw themselves over the heights, and
perished in the sea.

The people are not altogether to blame for this barbarous and cruel
persecution. Had the Jesuits been satisfied with their spiritual
conquests, and not sought to subvert the government of the country, all
might have gone well, and Japan, ere now, been a Christian country. But
no; true to themselves and to their Order, they came not to bring peace,
but literally a sword, and the innocent were made to suffer for the
ambitions of a few designing priests.

The island passed, what a view presents itself! The long perspective of
the bay, the densely wooded hills and lower slopes teeming with
agricultural produce, rich corn-fields, ripe for the sickle; picturesque
dwellings, hid in shadowy foliage, and flowers and fruit trees, to which
the purity and rarity of the atmosphere lend a brilliancy of colouring
and distinctness of outline, impossible to describe; the clear blue
water, with here and there a quaint and curious-looking junk