hardly find their way.

At the end of five miles it became impassable for horses, and, with
two of the mago carrying the baggage, we set off, wading through
water and climbing along the side of a hill, up to our knees in
soft wet soil. The hillside and the road were both gone, and there
were heavy landslips along the whole valley. Happily there was not
much of this exhausting work, for, just as higher and darker
ranges, densely wooded with cryptomeria, began to close us in, we
emerged upon a fine new road, broad enough for a carriage, which,
after crossing two ravines on fine bridges, plunges into the depths
of a magnificent forest, and then by a long series of fine zigzags
of easy gradients ascends the pass of Yadate, on the top of which,
in a deep sandstone cutting, is a handsome obelisk marking the
boundary between Akita and Aomori ken. This is a marvellous road
for Japan, it is so well graded and built up, and logs for
travellers' rests are placed at convenient distances. Some very
heavy work in grading and blasting has been done upon it, but there
are only four miles of it, with wretched bridle tracks at each end.
I left the others behind, and strolled on alone over the top of the
pass and down the other side, where the road is blasted out of rock
of a vivid pink and green colour, looking brilliant under the
trickle of water. I admire this pass more than anything I have
seen in Japan; I even long to see it again, but under a bright blue
sky. It reminds me much of the finest part of the Brunig Pass, and
something of some of the passes in the Rocky Mountains, but the
trees are far finer than in either. It was lonely, stately, dark,
solemn; its huge cryptomeria, straight as masts, sent their tall
spires far aloft in search of light; the ferns, which love damp and
shady places, were the only undergrowth; the trees flung their