The country through which the train passed during the entire day was very monotonous—or perhaps "repetitious" is the better descriptive word. Each mile, while in itself interesting and possessed of a certain beauty due to the rich coloring of the denuded rock of the mountains and of the sand of the valleys, which are deprived of their natural green covering by the neglect to bar out the summer floods, was very like every other of the nearly three hundred miles between Fusan and Seoul. Here, as everywhere in Korea, there was an almost complete absence of any special interests, either natural or human, such as crowd the hills and valleys of Japan. Of roads there appeared to be nothing worthy of the name—only rough and tortuous paths, in parts difficult for the Korean pony or even for the pedestrian to traverse. No considerable evidences of any other industry than the unenlightened and unimproved native forms of agriculture were visible on purely Korean territory. But at Taiden—about 170 miles from Fusan and 106 from Seoul—where the car of the Prince was switched off, and where he remained overnight in order that he might arrive at the Capital in the daylight, something better appeared. This city is situated on a mountainous plateau and is surrounded by extensive rice-fields, some of which, we were told, belong to the son of Marquis Nabeshima, to Count Kabayama, and to other Japanese. In spots, the number of which is increasing, all over Southern Korea, Japanese small farmers are giving object-lessons in improved agriculture; and grouped around all the stations of the railway, the neat houses and tidy gardens of the same immigrants are teaching the natives to aspire after better homes. Our escort believes that the process of amalgamation, which has already begun, will in time settle all race differences, at least in this part of the country.
At ten o'clock our train arrived at the South-Gate station
