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'clock, we dropped anchor noisily amid the mass of
vessels already there, and were immediately invaded.

Invaded by a mercantile, bustling, comical Japan, which rushed upon us
in full boat-loads, full junks, like a rising sea; little men and
little women coming in a continuous, uninterrupted stream, without
cries, without squabbles, noiselessly, each one making so smiling a
bow that it was impossible to be angry with them, and that indeed by
reflex action we smiled and bowed also. They all carried on their
backs little baskets, little boxes, receptacles of every shape,
fitting into each other in the most ingenious manner, each one
containing several others, and multiplying till they filled up
everything, in endless number; from these they drew forth all manners
of curious and unexpected things, folding screens, slippers, soap,
lanterns, sleeve-links, live cicalas chirping in little cages,
jewelry, tame white mice turning little cardboard mills, quaint
photographs, hot soups and stews in bowls ready to be served out in