VOL. XXX-2 VER the river they beckon to me Loved ones, who 've crossed to the further side; The gleam of their snowy robes I see, But their voices are drowned in the rushing tide. There's one with ringlets of sunny gold, And eyes, the reflection of heaven's own blue; He crossed in the twilight gray and cold, And the pale mist hid him from mortal view. We saw not the angels who met him there, My brother stands waiting to welcome me! Over the river, the boatman pale Carried another-the household pet; She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands, My childhood's idol is waiting for me. For none return from those quiet shores, Who cross with the boatman cold and pale; We hear the dip of the golden oars, And catch a gleam of the snowy sail : And lo! they have passed from our yearning heart, They cross the stream, and are gone for aye; We may not sunder the veil apart That hides from our vision the gates of day. May sail with us o'er life's stormy sea; I shall one day stand by the water cold, And list for sound of the boatman's oar: I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail; I shall pass from sight, with the boatman pale, I shall know the loved who have gone before, THE GRAVE. THE grave is deep and silent, The orphan's cry of pain. Yet in no other region The longed-for peace shall come; Through these dark portals only Goes man unto his home. The poor heart, overladen, There where it beats no more. PASSING AWAY. I STOOD with the throng in the gay festive room, Where manly grace gathered with young beauties' bloom; There were floating locks like the light clouds at dawn, And the soft dreamy gaze of the woodland fawn; There were tresses, too, of the dark raven's hue, With brown orbs that flashed, and love's sweet eyes of blue. And each happy young face wore a smile so bright, And each springing step seemed so joyous and light, Methought they had banished all trace of dull care, All vanish away-life is not what it seems; Some who are here with those soft cheeks of rich bloom, Erelong may be sleeping in yon cheerless tomb, Where fond friends will gather to chant the low hymn, The last dirge of death-the sad requiem. And so passes that strange, checkered thing called life, A wondrous commingling of pleasure and strife, AT A SOJOURN IN JAPAN. T daybreak, on the 26th of April, 1863, on board the Dutch corvette, Vice-Admiral Koopman, I caught sight of the six small mountainous islands which look like outposts of the Gulf of Yeddo. One of them, Myakésima, is remarkable for a lofty and broad peak covered with perpetual snow. The sun soon rose on the horizon, and presented, through the sea fog, the appearance of the crimson globe, which, depicted on a white ground, forms the national arms of Japan. Its first rays lighted up the point of Cape Idsu, on the mainland of Nippon, on the larboard, while, on the north-east, we saw the smoke ascending from the two craters of the island of Ohosima. The town of Simoda, at the extremity of a little bay in the promontory of Idsu, is the first, but least important, of the seats of commerce which is met in ascending the Gulf of Yeddo. The Americans obtained permission from the Government to form a settlement here in 1854. Subsequently the roadstead was destroyed by an earthquake, and this town was not included in the treaty of 1858. tibilities, he cast anchor eight miles to the south of the capital. Six weeks later, on the 31st of March, 1854, he signed the treaty of Kanagawa, which inaugurated new relations between Japan and the Western World. The recollection of this successful mission is preserved in the names of the various places which we passed. Above Uraga is Susquehanna Bay; opposite, on the eastern coast, there is Cape Saratoga; and higher up, on the western side, Mississippi Bay; these three names being those of the principal vessels which formed the American squadron. Perry and Webster Islands, on the west coast, perpetuate the fame of the commodore of the expedition and of the celebrated Secretary of State who was its originator. We soon entered the Bay of Yeddo, which gradually extends to the north-east and southwest until it is about thirty miles in length, and terminates in a semi-circle of twenty-two miles in diameter from east to west, on which is situated the immense capital of Japan. It was at Mississippi Bay that we first saw the summit of Fusi-Yama, "the unparalleled mountain," an extinct volcano, which rises to the height of 12,450 feet above the sea. It is about fifty nautical miles from the western coast of the bay, and completely isolated, with the exception of the chain of hills of Akoni at its base. It is almost impossible to describe the effect of this enormous, solitary pyramid, covered with snow. It gives an air of great solemnity to the landscapes of the Bay of Yeddo, which, independently of this, are of a sterner character than those of the gulf. This is caused by the closer proximity of the two shores, the slightly muddy appearance of the water, and the number of cedars, pines, and other gloomy-looking trees which crest the hills along the banks. Along the coast we perceived a number of fishing-boats, and some larger vessels coming from Nippon and the surrounding islands. This animated picture presents a remarkable harmony of coloring; the sky is of a dazzling azure, and the sea, no longer of that dark-blue color which shows a great depth of water, is of a green shade, and possesses that peculiar limpidity which characterizes the rocky coasts of Japan. The islands clothed in the brilliant foliage of Spring, the dark-brown rocks brightened by streaks of ocher, contrasting with the white sails of the native vessels, the snows of Myakésima, and the smoking crater of Ohosima, At last we doubled Treaty Point, a picturcombine to form a most charming picture. esque promontory, where the agreement was After passing the volcanic island, on which we signed between Commodore Perry and the Tyobserved wooded hills, and even some cultivated coon's deputies; and then the town of Yokofields and villages, we doubled Cape Sagami hama, extending along a marshy shore, and and entered a narrow channel called the Uraga inclosed on the south and west by wooded hills, Canal. Uraga is the town which Commodore burst suddenly on our sight. About twenty Perry visited with his squadron in 1853. The ships of war and merchant vessels of various American envoy explained the object of his countries were riding in the harbor, nearly opmission to the delegates of the Japanese Gov-posite the Frank quarter, which were recognized ernment, and gave them a letter for the Tycoon, with which the President of the United States had intrusted him, informing them at the same time that he would return for an answer the following year. On his second visit, in 1854, he resisted the attempts of the Governor of Uraga to detain him before that port, and pressed on with his squadron toward Yeddo; but not wishing to outrage the national suscep by its white houses and the flags of the various consulates. Some native junks were anchored at a little distance from the pier-head and custom-house stores. We steamed slowly past the Japanese city, the houses in which, with the exception of some of the warehouses, are of wood, and appear to consist of only one story above the ground-floor. When we arrived at the Benten quarter, 1 situated at the end of the beach, and at the mouth of a large river, our vessel selected an anchorage near the Dutch legation, which was at that time the only European dwelling in that part of the native town. I disembarked the following morning, and my kind host, M. de Polsbroek, Consul-General, installed me in the detached building which he occupied himself. The Dutch residence in Benten was built by the Japanese Government, which took advantage of the opportunity to solve an interesting international problem, namely, the suitability of native architecture to the wants of a civilized people. The house was inhabited by four persons only, the Consul-General of the Netherlands, his chancellor, myself and my Dutch secretary and interpreter; but we were surrounded by a colony of domestics and officials, located in several small houses which were scattered about the thickets in the garden. In one of these, close to our western portico, and which was inhabited by the constable of the consulate, I had established our little photographic studio, and a guard-room for the marines belonging to the Dutch station. At a little distance behind this building there is a fire-proof store, hermetically closed by iron doors and shutters. The porter's lodge is by the side of the gateway, in the strong fence which incloses the garden on all sides except that next the bay, where it is replaced by a bamboo cane barrier, fixed horizontally above the water, and on a level with the terrace which extends along the shore. This gateway, which is painted black, the same as the fence, and ornamented with copper on the top of the principal pillars, contains three doors: a large double one in the center, which is only opened for the master of the house and his guests and their visitors, and a small one on each side for the purveyors, native shop-keepers, and domestics. These are open all day, but closed at sunset. The chief porter, a worthy man, and the father of a family, exercises a sort of patriarchal authority over the other servants, and even in the neighborhood generally. His lodge, in which tea, pipes, and tobacco are always ready, is the rendezvous for all the loungers and gossips in the Benten quarter. This does not interfere with their duties being performed with an accuracy and dispatch with which we must be satisfied in the extreme East. The functions of the porters, or monbans, as they are called in Japan, are not confined to guarding, opening, and closing the entrances confided to their care; they have to strike the hours, day and night, on gongs suspended at the door of their lodge; by which means they also announce the rank of the person visiting the residence, one stroke being given for a merchant or a citizen of the Frank quarter, two for an officer or interpreter, three for a consul, commander of a vessel, or a Japanese governor, and four for a minister or admiral. The distance from the entrance-gate to the house allows time enough to prepare for the suitable reception of the visitor. Finally, the monban has to undertake the responsibility, either in person or through his assistants, of the night rounds, which are made twice an hour, around the houses and through the alleys of the inclosure. The man who goes the round gives notice that he is passing, by striking three blows, one long and two short, with two square pieces of wood which he carries. In case of danger, it is his duty to give the alarm by striking rapidly on the gong. Along the south side of the fence there is a succession of buildings and yards, carefully concealed behind thick trees. We first come to the laundry, which is managed by a Chinese laundryman; then to the stables, opposite to which are the houses occupied by the grooms or bêtos, who are all Japanese. Each horse has his own bêto, who never loses sight of him; in fact, when any one goes out for a ride, no matter how long, the bêto runs before him or at his side, so as always to be in readiness, if required, to take charge of the animal. These hardy attendants form a regular corporation, with their special jurisdiction, whose chief enjoys the right of wearing a sword in the exercise of his office. These bêtos are generally of middle size, but well proportioned. They pass their lives in a state of almost entire nudity. When they accompany their masters, however, they wear sandals and a blue jacket of slight material, and a head-dress composed of a handkerchief of the same color. One of our bêtos was married, and every morning at daybreak, seated beside the well, he threw pails of fresh water alternately over his wife, his children, his horse, and himself. Next to the stables comes the kennel, tenanted by a couple of gray-hounds, a beagle, a watch-dog, and a cur; then the poultry-yard, stocked with cocks, hens, geese, and ducks of the native breed. At last we come to the dwelling of the comprador, the cooks, and the koskeis. The first is what the Japanese call a Nankinsang a man of Nankin, or merely, for shortness, a Nankin-that is to say, a Chinese. Our Nankin wore his national costume, and a plait of hair, of which he was very proud, for it reached almost to his knees. The functions of the comprador are similar to those of a steward, and these duties are generally intrusted by Europeans in the extreme East to Chinese, who have a talent for the kitchen, the pantry, and the market, and, it must be added, know how to take care of their perquisites. Our cooks were natives, and, under our superintendence, practiced an ingenious culinary eclecticism, borrowed from the schools of Europe, India, China, and Japan. We had as butlers two Japanese called respectively Siden and Sariden, and a little Chinese belonging to the sect of the Taipings, who wore his hair long, and cut at the back of the head in the Malay fashion. He answered to the name of Rebelle. The great rebellion of the Taipings against the Manchu dynasty has created a traffic-through the open ports of China-in young boys and girls who have been carried off by the imperial troops or their allies from the insurgent districts which were given up to the sword and fire. Thus it was that our little friend "Rebelle " |