visited one is apt to be at first often deceived by appearances; and if,
as has happened in my case, the traveller has suffered in consequence of
being thus deceived, he is rather apt to look upon all that he sees with
a considerable amount of caution and even suspicion.

It was then with some such feelings as these that I landed at Chemulpo.
Hundreds of coolies running along the shore, with loads of grain on their
backs, to be shipped by the _Higo-Maru_, had no compunction in knocking
you down if you were in their way, and a crowd of curious native loafers,
always ready to be entertained by any new arrival, followed you _en
masse_ wherever you went.

When I visited Chemulpo there were actually three European hotels there.
These were European more in name than in fact, but there they were, and
as the night was fast approaching, I had to make my choice, for I wanted
a lodging badly.

One of these hotels was kept by a Chinaman, and was called Steward's
Hotel, for the simple reason that its owner had been a steward on board
an American ship, and had since appropriated the word as a family name;
the second, which rejoiced in the grand name of "Hotel de Corée," was of
Hungarian proprietorship, and a favourite resort for sailors of
men-of-war when they called at that port, partly because a drinking
saloon, well provided with intoxicants of all descriptions, was the chief
feature of the establishment, and partly because glasses were handed over
the counter by a very fascinating young lady, daughter of the proprietor,
a most accomplished damsel, who could speak fluently every language under
the sun--from Turkish and Arabic to Corean and Japanese. The third
hotel--a noble mansion, to use modern phraseology--was quite a new
structure, and was owned by a Japanese. The name which had been given by