Continental Monthly, Vol. 4, No 3, September 1863

When we got to Mr. Hassel's, the old man was sitting on the steps reading the newspaper. He came to the gate to speak to us, and Ned said:

'You had better go in, and wait, Dimpey; the boys will not be here yet a while, and I want to fix my wagon more comfortable before we start to go up to the mountain.'

So Mr. Hassel helped me out, and asked me into the house. I should have liked to stay on the steps, where I could see the picnickers as they came along; but he went into the living room, which was at the back of the house, and I followed him. I sat down, and he began to talk of all sorts of things. I answered as well as I could, and pretty soon I heard some one shout at the front gate:

'Hallo, Ned! here we are! Where's your team?'

I heard Ned answer: 'Hallo!' and then run around the house. I couldn't hear what more he said; and then there was a great laughing, and a scraping of wheels, as if they were all driving past. I sat still, wondering why Ned didn't come for me. My face was so red when I went in the house, that I hardly dared to look at Mr. Hassel; but now I looked up suddenly, and he sat looking at me with such a strange sort of smile, I didn't know what to make of it. It's likely he knew well enough – but never mind that now.

Presently there was a great cracking of a whip and a whoaing in the door yard. I heard wheels moving fast, and Ned looked in the room, and said:

'Come, Dimpey! let's be off; the boys have gone on ahead, but we'll soon catch them up.'

I followed him out to the gate; the wagon was there, and I was astonished to see a pair of horses harnessed to it, and a man standing at their heads; but before I had time to think, Ned had lifted me in, jumped into his seat, and taken up the lines. We were off like a shot, and I was actually riding behind the fast sorrels!

'Oh, Ned!' said I, 'what does this mean? Didn't you promise father you wouldn't drive these horses?'

'No,' said he, 'I didn't make any promise. I only said I'd be at your house with the brown mare, and so I was; but I never said I'd drive her up the mountain. The sorrels will go nicely, and the boys won't say anything to your father, if you're not afraid.'

'But what would father say if he knew it; and Calanthy, too! Let me get down, Ned. I can't ride with you.'

But the more I begged, the louder Ned laughed and urged his horses. The ground seemed to fly from under the wagon, and in few minutes we caught up to the company. Now I know I ought to have told brother Joe I was riding against my will, and that I should have jumped out the moment I got a chance, but I could not bear to let the girls know how Ned had acted. So I sat still while he drove past them all; and I was even wicked enough to feel a little proud as we passed Abby Matilda and her beau! Ned kept making love to me all the way up to the farm. It sounded well enough then, but it makes me sick to think of it now. The horses went along like kittens, and he seemed to have complete management of them, and when he came to steep places, he drove so carefully that I could not feel as if there was any danger. It was very cool and pleasant among the trees, and everything smelled so fresh and sweet, it was delightful riding, and I tried not to think about father. Most of the company left their wagons at High Farm, and walked the rest of the way; but John Mills and Abby Matilda drove up to the top of the mountain, and so did a few others. We got safely to the spring, and when Ned helped me out of the wagon, he said:

'There now, Dimpey! don't the sorrels go beautiful? Your hair is just as sleek as when we started, and your cheeks are only a little redder, but that don't hurt 'em any.'

As he lifted me down, his face touched mine for a minute. I don't know that he did it on purpose, but I shouldn't wonder! I was glad to stoop down to the spring, and wet my cheeks, for they felt hot enough by this time. However they had time to get cool while Ned was unharnessing his horses, and presently Abby Matilda and her beau came along.

'Dear me, Dimpey,' said she, 'have you really got here without breaking your bones, and with Mr. Hassel's wonderful team, too?'

I was so provoked at the mean thing – I know she was jealous because Ned didn't ask her– that I never said a word; but Ned answered:

'My horses are not in the habit of breaking anybody's bones, Miss Abby, and if they were, they wouldn't pick out the belle of Preston to practise on – not while I'm master.'

Abby colored up, and flirted her head, as she always does when she's angry; but the rest of the company began to come up, and nothing more was said.

I'm not going to tell you much about the picnic, though it was a real nice one, and in such a beautiful place. Every one says there's one of the handsomest views in the world from Spring Mountain; you can see five villages, and the river winds so pretty among the hills; then you can count a great many church steeples, and there are such noble trees up there, and nice, shady places, and rocks to sit on, that it's the very spot for a picnic. We played plays, and told stories, and sang considerable; our Biel is a funny little fellow, and can imitate almost any animal: he kept us all laughing, till even Abby Matilda forgot her airs, and was quite pleasant. Then we had a right good dinner – cold chicken, and ham, and tongue, and lots of nice pies and cakes, and plenty of currant wine and milk punch, and the clear, good water from the spring. Calanthy's biscuits were so good everybody wanted them, and my Washington cake was praised to the skies, and I was as happy as I could be.

In the midst of the dinner our Joe spoke out – Joe is good, but he don't always know when to speak.

'Where is Race Miller, boys? I thought he was coming with us? He didn't say nothing to the contrary, the other day.'

Ned Hassel was sitting next to me on the grass; he gave me a nudge, and answered, 'I shouldn't wonder if Race has got the mitten from one of the girls; I met him early this morning, and he looked as black as thunder.'

'Well,' said Abby Matilda – she must have her say – 'if I was a man, and anyone gave me the mitten, I'd have too much spirit to show it by keeping away from a picnic!'

'Pooh!' said Rhody Mills, 'what nonsense! like enough Race is hard at work for his mother or somebody else. He's always ready to help anyone that asks him.'

Well, the afternoon passed away, and when the sun began to get low, the boys said it was time to be going home. While Ned was harnessing his horses, something got tangled in the harness, and it took him a little while to fix it, so that the others that were riding started first. I saw Joe look back to see if we were coming, and that made me think of father again; I had never deceived him in my life, and I couldn't bear to think of it then; I wondered how Ned would manage, and whether our boys would tell father about the horses, and I was glad we were behind the rest, so that Ned would have to drive slowly, for the road was not wide enough for teams to pass each other. Now the picnic was over I felt very uncomfortable, and blamed myself more and more. However, we started directly, and soon overtook the rest. As we drew up behind the wagon that Abby Matilda was in, Ned said, 'What makes you so still, Dimpey; haven't we had a real good time?'

'Yes,' said I; 'but I was thinking what father will say when he hears you took the fast horses, after all!'

'What will he say? why, nothing, when he sees you safe and sound; besides, what's the use of telling him anything about it; he won't ask any questions when I take you home with the brown mare, and I'm sure Joe and Biel won't be mean enough to speak of the sorrels.'

I tried to feel satisfied, though I knew it was wrong; but I thought to myself, 'There's no help for it now.'

So we jogged along slowly till we came to a place where a thick clump of elders divides the road into two paths; it is just at the steepest part of the mountain, and the path on the left is very narrow, and right on the edge of the precipice. At that minute Abby Matilda looked around, and called out, in her spiteful way, 'It must be dreadful hard for Thunder and Lightning to keep in the rear; what a pity we can't let you pass us, Mr. Hassel!'

I suppose she vexed Ned, for he answered, 'Perhaps we can do it if we try, Miss Stevens,' and before I could speak he turned his horses into the narrow part of the road! I looked down the side of the mountain, and it made me feel so sick and giddy that I put out my hands and caught the lines; this gave them a sudden jerk, the near horse started, and began to back – Abby screamed, and that frightened him more – I felt the wheel going over the edge – the bushes were close on the other side of the wagon – there was no place to jump – Ned dropped the lines and sprang out at the back – I remember seeing something break through the bushes at the horses' heads, and that is the last I recollect, for I fainted away and fell in the bottom of the wagon.

When I came to my senses I felt so strange and confused I did not know where I was; my head had a dull pain in it, and when I touched it, I found it was bandaged up, and my forehead felt sore and bruised. Some one took hold of my hand, and I heard a sobbing; I opened my eyes, and made out that I was on my own bed at home. Calanthy was standing by me, and Polly Jane sat by the foot of the bed crying as if her heart would break. I tried to think, but I couldn't get things right; and the picnic seemed like something that had happened a great while ago.

'What is the matter, Polly?' said I; 'is anyone hurt? Tell father I didn't mean to be deceitful; I'll go tell him myself.' I tried to sit up, but I fell back on the pillow. Calanthy stooped down and kissed me, and I heard her say, 'Lie still, my pet lamb. Father isn't angry with you; he's stepped out a minute, but he'll be back soon; drink this, and you'll soon be better.' She held a cup to my lips; I drank something, and then fell asleep directly.

I wasn't able to sit up for several days, and they kept me very still, and wouldn't let me ask questions; only Calanthy told me that Dr. Basset said I'd had a great shock, and it would take me some time to get over it. I had a cut on my forehead, too, but it healed up pretty soon. It seemed as if Calanthy and Polly Jane couldn't do enough for me, and whenever father came in the room he was as good to me as ever, and I could see that he could hardly keep from crying when I spoke to him. When I got well enough to sit in a rocking chair, and have my knitting work, father came in one morning, and brought Uncle Ezra with him. I was very glad to see uncle, though I was ashamed to have him know how vain and wicked I'd been; but I'd thought a good deal while I was sick, and I made up my mind to do right, whatever came of it. So I told him how wrong I had acted, and how sorry I felt for it, and then I asked him to tell me how my life had been saved, and if any one was killed, and all about the accident. I had my memory by that time, and recollected all I have been telling.

Uncle Ezra took hold of my hand while I was speaking, and then he said, 'We have great reason to be thankful, my child, that we have you with us yet; you've had a narrow escape; but I'm sure it will be such a lesson to you that you'll never disobey your father again. You are young, Dimpey, and may have many years to live; but I hope you'll always be our own dear honest child, and make as good a woman as your mother was.'

Then Uncle Ezra told me that when Ned Hassel jumped out of his wagon, leaving me in it – the coward! – Race Miller pushed his way through the elder bushes, and caught the horses by their heads. They struggled, and threw him down; but the off horse fell with him, and partly on him. This jerked the wagon against the bushes, and the wheel, which was slipping over the edge of the road, caught against a big stone, which held it a minute. John Mills had jumped to the ground at that minute. He pitched the seat out of Ned's wagon, and he and Biel dragged me out of the back in less time than it takes to tell it. Then the traces all gave way, the horse that had fallen struggled to his feet, the wagon went over, and clattered down the side of the mountain, and the horses started to run, but were stopped by some of the boys who were walking. I had struck my head as I fell, and lay senseless, but our boys carried me down to High Farm, and got a large wagon and a bed to put me on. They do say Joe pushed Ned Hassel out of the way, and dared him to touch me. In the mean time, John Mills and the others helped up Race Miller; but one of his arms was broken, and he was so faint he could not stand.

When Uncle Ezra told me this, I burst out crying, and felt as if I should die with sorrow; but father comforted me, and said Race was doing well, and was as cheerful as ever, and had asked them not to tell he was hurt, for fear it might worry me. Now wasn't he a noble fellow; and what did it matter if he was homely? I felt some curiosity to know what had become of Ned Hassel, for no one had mentioned him while I was sick, but I didn't like to ask; however, I think father must have known my thoughts, for just as he was going out of the room, he turned back, and said:

'If you'd like to know anything about your 2.40 beau, Dimpey, he came up here the day after the picnic to ask about you; but I told him your mother's daughter didn't keep company with liars; and he'd better not show his face inside my dooryard, unless he wanted the boys to put him out. He blustered a little, but I guess he didn't think best to make much noise in this neighborhood; so he took himself off, and that's the last of him.'

'Yes,' thought I, I never want to see him again, I'm sure!'

The first time I went to meeting was on a pleasant Sunday afternoon, and if ever any one felt really thankful, I think I did. Uncle Ezra preached a beautiful sermon, and every word of it seemed as if it was meant on purpose for me. I hardly dared raise my eyes, but I saw that Mrs. Miller was in her seat as usual, and I heard Race's voice among the singers. When we came out, Mrs. Miller walked right up to me, and kissed me before everybody. I had felt as though she must almost hate me; but she looked so pleasant, it brought the tears into my eyes.

'Do you feel quite strong again, Dimpey?' said she; 'I've heard from you every day; but I haven't been up to see you, because I thought you had plenty of company, and I had my big boy to take care of.'

'Is Race's arm 'most well?' said I.

'Here he is,' said Mrs. Miller; 'ask him yourself.'

I turned around, and there stood Race. His arm was in a sling, and he was paler than usual; but he smiled, and his eyes twinkled more than ever; and, would you believe it, he actually looked handsome! I tried to speak, and thank him for all he had done; but I choked, so I could hardly say a word. He walked along by my side till we came to our gate – it isn't far from the meeting house – then he said:

'Dimpey, will you do me a kindness?'

'Yes, Race,' I answered; 'I'd do you a hundred, if I knew how.'

'Well, then, just come over to our house, and take tea with mother; she's been waiting on me so long, I want to do something to please her, and I know you'll brighten her up nicely; I'm such a dull fellow for company, you know.'

I didn't know any such thing; but I ran and asked Calanthy if I'd better go, and she said 'Certainly.'

So I went home with Mrs. Miller and Race, and we had the snuggest little tea that ever was. Mrs. Miller makes the best muffins I ever tasted, and she had some ready mixed, and nothing to do but put them on the griddle. After we had done tea, she told Race to sit down in her big chair by the window, and not to stir out of it till she gave him leave. Then she gave me an apron, and said I might help her wash up the tea things, if I liked; of course, I was delighted to do it; and Race sat still, and looked at us.

'What are you smiling at, Race?' said his mother – they always joked together considerable.

'I was thinking,' said he, 'how funny it seems to sit here and be waited on; take care I don't grow lazy, mother!'

Mrs. Miller laughed, and said: 'Well, I am a little uneasy about that – ' and just then Hiram came in from milking, and she went into the milkroom to strain the milk.

I was folding up my apron, and I thought I mightn't have another chance to speak, so I said:

'I haven't thanked you yet, Race, for saving my life; but you believe I am thankful, don't you?'

'Come here, Dimpey,' said he.

I walked toward him, for I felt as if he had a right to ask me; he got up from the big chair, and put me gently in it, and then took a little bench and sat down close to my feet.

'Are you glad to live, Dimpey?' said he.

I looked at him in astonishment at such a strange question; but I saw his eyes were full, and his lips trembling.

He said it again, 'Are you glad your life was spared, Dimpey?'

'Yes, to be sure,' said I; 'it would have been dreadful to die so suddenly; and oh, think how our folks would have felt, if I had been killed! And you too, Race! what could your mother do without you? I am so sorry you were hurt saving me, and so thankful it was no worse,' and here my eyes ran over, and I stopped.

'Dimpey,' said Race, and his voice shook as it did that night in the Hollow, 'I ought to be very thankful for my mother's sake, that God has spared my life, and I hope I am now; but when I sat in the elder bushes on Spring Mountain, and saw you sitting by the side of Ned Hassel, and looking so sweet and innocent, I thought that the day you married him would finish all my happiness on earth, and I should have nothing to live for but to take care of my good mother. You will tell me the truth now, Dimpey, I'm sure – will that day ever come?'

'Never, Race!' said I; 'the lying coward! has he dared to say so?'

I started up from the chair; and, I don't know how it was, I fell into Race's arms, and he sat down in the chair, and drew me on his knee as he did when I was a little child; and looking down on his broken arm, it seemed to me like my own old dolly, and I put my hands carefully around it, as I did around my doll in my childish trouble.

It is two years now, since Race and I were married; and I believe no one ever had a better husband! We live on the old homestead – it is one of the pleasantest places in Preston – the mortgage is all paid off, and we are as comfortable as any family need be. Mrs. Miller is as fond of me as if I was her own born daughter, and everybody thinks our little Phebe is almost too sweet to live – she is the picture of Race; but I think her curly hair and saucy blue eyes make her the handsomest baby I ever saw.

Widow Burt and Jim have come away from the Hollow; last year Race put up a new barn, and moved the old one down to the end of the lane – our boys helped him fix it up for a house, and Mrs. Burt and Jim live in it. They make baskets yet, and we find them very useful when we want extra help. Mrs. Burt is stronger than before she was sick; and poor Jim almost worships Race, and would run errands all day, if we asked him to – he thinks there is nothing like our baby on the face of the earth; and simple as he looks, she is always ready to go to him.

Race wouldn't tell me till after we were married, how he came to be hiding in the bushes on the day of the picnic; he always said I must guess– so you may guess too!

After all, I have reason to bless the day I went up Spring Mountain!

ENDURANCE

 
At first did I almost despair,
And thought I never it could bear —
And yet I have it borne till now:
But only never ask me how!
 

– Heine.

JAPANESE FOREIGN RELATIONS

[The article we are now about to offer our readers is from the pen of the well-known and highly-esteemed Dr. Macgowan, Honorary Member of the Archæological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, Corresponding Member of the Société Impériale Zoologique d'Acclimation, Asiatic Society of Bengal, of the Agricultural and Horticultural Society of India, Ethnological Society of London, American Oriental Society, &c., &c., who was for more than twenty years a resident of the far East, of China and Japan. He has lectured on China and Japan before the most erudite audiences, and has never failed to give entire satisfaction. His lectures were delivered in New York under the auspices of the Geographical and Statistical Society, in compliance with an invitation drawn up by Chancellor Ferris, and signed by President King of Columbia College, Hon. Townsend Harris, late U. S. Minister to Japan, Hon. George Bancroft, Hon. Luther Bradish, Hon. Judge Clerke, Hon. George Opdyke, and other prominent citizens.

At the conclusion of the course, the following resolution, presented by the Rev. Dr. Prime, was passed unanimously:

'Resolved, That this audience has listened with great satisfaction, instruction, and delight, to the valuable and highly entertaining lectures of Dr. Macgowan on Japan, and that our thanks are eminently due to him for imparting to us in so attractive a form the results of his extensive travel, illustrated with curious and elegant works of nature and art from that remarkable empire.'

'On commencing his course of lectures in the Cooper Institute, Dr. Macgowan was introduced by the Hon. Judge Daly, who appeared as the representative of the Geographical and Statistical Society. Judge Daly said that 'the lecturer came before his countrymen with a well-earned European reputation, that his investigations had attracted much attention abroad, and in the matter of physical geography his researches were referred to in Humboldt's Cosmos, and his discovery and description of the egre or bore of the Tsien-tang River in China, occupies a large space in Maury's 'Physical Geography of the Sea.'' Besides giving the Society's cordial commendation of Dr. Macgowan's Lectures, the Judge expressed on the part of the Society, a deep sense of the importance in a national point of view of the lecturer's projected exploration in the far East.'-Abridged Report.

 

We could fill pages with such testimonials. We extract the following from notices of Dr. Macgowan's lectures in Europe:

'A large number of Members of Parliament, A. H. Layard, Richard Cobden, John Bright, Sir M. Peto, T. B. Horsfall, Lord Alfred Churchill, and others joined in commending the lectures to Chambers of Commerce, Colleges, Literary and Mechanics' Institutions; and they were commended also to Young Men's Christian Associations by the Archbishop of Canterbury.

'They were delivered in various parts of the United Kingdom under the chairmanship of the Right Hon. the Earl of Shaftesbury, the Most Noble the Marquis of Cholmondeley, the Right Hon. the Earl of Cavan, the Right Hon. Lord Lyttleton, the Right Hon. Earl Strangford, Lord Henry Cholmondeley, the Hon. A. Kinnaird, M. P., Sir J. F. Davis, Bart., Sir Henry Havelock, Bart., Sir J. Coleridge, Bart., Sir Roderick I. Murchison, the Right Hon. and Right Rev. Lord Auckland, Bishop of Bath and Wells, the Lord Bishop of Oxford, the Bishop of Victoria, the Hon. and Rev. B. W. Noel, the Rev. Canon McNeille, Rev. C. H. Spurgeon, General Alexander, General Lawrence, Hon. Capt. Maude, R. N., and other public men.

'In Scotland, the Right Hon. the Earl of Kintore, Rev. Dr. Guthrie, Professor Sampson, Dr. Bell, and the Provosts of the principal towns.

'In Ireland, His Grace the Archbishop of Dublin, Lord Gough, Lord Roden, Lord Talbot de Malahide, the Right Hon. Judge Crampton, Sir W. Hamilton, Astronomer Royal, and the Right Hon. J. Whiteside, M. P. Under the auspices of the Lord Lieutenant, Earl of Carlisle.'

In China, while occupied as Medical Missionary and United States Consul, he published a newspaper in the Chinese language; in London, also, he rendered valuable service in vindicating our Government from the attacks of Lord Brougham and Sir John Bowring.

In all his various efforts, Dr. Macgowan received the highest commendation from the press, as well as from his learned audiences. We therefore call the attention of our readers to the present essay, on the important subject of 'Japanese Foreign Relations,' as from the pen of one familiar with the history and bearing of the questions of which he treats. – Ed. Continental

Strolling recently from Nagasaki toward the volcanic mountain Simabara, the writer was compelled to retrace his steps by the yaconins, or guards of the prince of Fizen, and thus he failed to accomplish the object he had in view – that of searching for the monument erected, it is said, to commemorate the expulsion of foreigners from Japan, and the suppression of Christianity, bearing an impious inscription, forbidding Christians and the God of the Christians from ever appearing in that 'Eden Minor.' Whether the monument still exists or not, it is certain that the spirit of the edict of Gongen Sama, which expelled Europeans forever from the country, and enjoined natives to slay foreigners, still actuates the ruling classes in the insular empire of the Pacific. Hence the exclamation of the daring and potent prince of Kago, who, in 1853, when the American treaty was before the Daimios, in council, placing his hand upon the hilts of his swords, said: 'Rather than admit foreigners into the country, let us die fighting.' He was overruled – a decade has elapsed, and his forebodings of evil have been realized. One of the results of the concession to Americans has been a despatch from Earl Russell to the British minister at Yedo, which says: 'It would be better that the Tycoon's palace should be destroyed than that our rightful position by treaty should be weakened or impaired.' When a British minister threatens to burn a palace, Eastern Asiatics know full well that the torch will be preceded by a bombardment and followed by looting, which in Anglo-Indian parlance means plundering. Thirteen ships of war, two of them French, are at Yokahama, within a few hours' sail of the palace which adorns Yedo, the proud metropolis of the 'Land of the Rising Sun,' awaiting an answer to a British ultimatum.

As the Japanese are neighbors of our countrymen whose homes are on our Pacific coast, we should not be so absorbed in the struggle to maintain our nationality as to be unmindful of the perils by which they are surrounded. While the subjugation of Mexico, by one of the Allied Powers, which aims at a general protectorate of the East, causes us anxiety, the prospective invasion of Japan by the other power cannot but be regarded by us with solicitude, for in its results it promises to open another 'neutral' port to facilitate the operations of other Nashvilles and Alabamas against our commerce. Assuming that we shall speedily avert the impending danger of foreign domination involved in the present contest, the various questions affecting American interests in Eastern Asia become fitting subjects for discussion, and at this moment the foreign relations of Japan particularly demand consideration.

At one period of their history, the foreign relations of the Japanese were of the most amicable character. In their treatment of the Europeans who first visited them, they were courteous and liberal. For a period of ninety years the Portuguese carried on a highly lucrative commerce, by which they built up the port of Macao, which has been styled the brightest jewel in the Lusitanian crown. To Xavier and his co-religionists they extended a cordial welcome. Bringing, as did the missionaries, a similar but more imposing ritual, with dogmas in many points analogous, but accompanied with the sublime teachings of the gospel, the propagation of the new faith was so facile, that a single generation might have witnessed the nominal christianization of the entire empire, had not fatal dissensions arisen among the different orders of the Portuguese, Spanish, and Italian missionaries. In consequence of these dissensions the country was closed to foreign commerce and religion for more than two centuries. A like cause led to the closing of China to Christian nations.

The edicts of Gongen Sama (founder of the reigning Tycoon family) not only prohibited the visit of any foreigner under penalty of death, but condemned to death any native who might return to Japan after going abroad, or being driven to another land by a storm. The vindictive code was no brutum fulmen, for not long after their exclusion, the Macao Portuguese despatched an embassy, nearly all the members of which, including attendants and ships' crews, were massacred. Of the sixty, only the menials, thirteen in number, were suffered to return.

A long period of exemption from foreign intrusion followed. With the present century commenced a series of private and semi-official visits from various nations. During their seclusion they ceased not to feel an interest in Western affairs, but, aided by the Dutch, they studied physical sciences and contemporaneous history. Thus they heard of the gradual approach of the irrepressible foreigner, the opening of China through the Opium War, the acquisition of Hong Kong by the English, the frequent appearance of American whalers off their coast, the rise of California, and the introduction of steam on the Pacific. These things must have suggested to thoughtful observers the necessity of modifying some day the institutions of Gongen Sama; indeed, the Dutch state that they counselled against resisting the demands likely to be made by mercantile powers for a relaxation of their prohibitive policy. Therefore it was that the not unreasonable requirements of Commodore Perry were complied with, which guaranteed succor and good treatment of distressed sailors, and the admission of a consul. This last concession was obtained with much difficulty, for they regarded it as an abandonment of their policy of isolation, and such it proved.

Our minister, Mr. Townsend Harris (then consul general), succeeded, after much resistance from the Japanese, in getting access to Yedo from his consulate at Simoda in 1857, his object being to negotiate a commercial treaty, which in the following year he accomplished. Many English writers endeavor to rob Mr. Harris of the honor which he gained in thus opening an empire to the commerce of the world. The Tycoon acquiesced, say they, while the echoes of the allied guns in north China were booming in his ears. Our minister is represented as holding the British and French fleets in terrorem over the nervous Japanese, and obtaining, without the cost and odium of an expedition, the same advantages as if an American expedition had been despatched, and had been successful. The truth however is, the American treaty was negotiated, drawn, and ready for signature before he or they heard of the attack on the forts at Taku; and only signed at the appointed time, after learning that news. Now, however, finding themselves in a quandary, we see their highest authorities on this question pleading in extenuation the circumstance that they were 'driven by the Americans into making a Japanese treaty'!