We now entered into a shady kind of channel enclosed between two high
ranges of mountains, curiously symmetrical in shape--like stage
scenery, very fine, though unlike nature. It seemed as if Japan opened
to our view, through a fairy-like rent, which thus allowed us to
penetrate into her very heart.

Nagasaki, as yet unseen, must be at the extremity of this long and
curious bay. All around us was admirably green. The strong sea-breeze
had suddenly fallen, and was succeeded by a perfect calm; the
atmosphere, now very warm, was laden with the perfume of flowers. In
the valley resounded the ceaseless whirr of the cicalas, answering
each other from one shore to another; the mountains reëchoed with
innumerable sounds; the whole country seemed to vibrate like crystal.
On our way we passed among myriads of Japanese junks, gliding softly,
wafted by imperceptible breezes on the unruffled water; their motion
could scarcely be heard, and their white sails, stretched out on
yards, fell languidly in a thousand horizontal folds like
window-blinds, their strangely contorted poops rising up castlewise in
the air, reminding one of the towering ships of the middle ages. In
the midst of the intense greenery of this wall of mountains, they
stood out with a snowy whiteness.

What a country of verdure and shade is Japan; what an unlooked-for
Eden!

Beyond us, at sea, it must have been full daylight; but here, in the
recesses of the valley, we already felt the impression of 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