ence in a new theatre. After we had solemnly been
towed by a string of boats to anchor, under the
Papen mountains, all Nagasaki appeared to turn
out, men, women and children. Thousands of little
boats, decorated with flags by day and colored lan-
terns by night, and filled with people in gala attire,
swarmed about us, gazed at us through telescopes,
were so thick on the bay one could have traversed
it on foot. The imperial sailors were distinguished
by their uniforms of a large blue and white check,
suggesting the pinafores of a brobdingnagian baby.
The barges of the imperial princes were covered
with blue and white awnings and towed to the sound
of kettledrums and the loud measured cries of the
boatmen. At night the thousands of illuminated
lanterns, of every color and shade, the waving of
fans, the incessant chattering, and the more har-
monious noise that rose unceasingly above, made up
a scene as brilliant as it was juvenile and absurd.
In the daytime it was more interesting, with the
background of hills cultivated to their crests in the
form of terraces, varied with rice fields, hamlets,
groves, and paper villas encircled with little gardens
as glowing and various of color as the night lan-
terns. When, at last, I was graciously permitted to
have a residence on a point of land called Megasaki,
I was conveyed thither in the pleasure barge of the
Prince of Fisi. There was place for sixty oarsmen,
but as one of the few tokens of respect, I was en-
abled to record for the comfort of the mighty sov-