screens, and scrolls. My purchases were few; the native furniture, massive presses, and cabinets faced with copper plates, and small tea-tables, attracting me more than anything else. The Emperor had already sent a present of silk and fans to my hotel, and, with these few remaining articles, my stock of Korean relics was completed. The dealers were importunate, and crowded into the private apartments of the hotel like bleating sheep into a pen. Remonstrances were in vain, and I found the specific cure for their pestiferous attentions to be administered best in the shape of a little vigorous kicking. They took the cuffing with much good humour, and retired to the courtyard, where, at intervals in the day, a plaintive voice would be heard calling upon His Highness to inspect the treasures of his slave. His Highness, however, had concluded his inspection.
The atmosphere in these hot days in Seoul was very bad; the air was heavy with malodorous vapour; the days were muggy and the nights damp. The steaming heat of the capital emphasised the wisdom of an immediate departure, and I hastened my exodus, touched up with a little ague and a troublesome throat. The endless business of obtaining servants, guides, and horses was repeated, until at last the day of my removal was arranged and the hour of actual departure fixed. The prospect was alluring—a journey from Seoul to Vladivostock, through a wild and desolate region, nearly eight hundred miles in length, lay before me. Much of it was unexplored. It was the chance of a lifetime, and, in thus embarking upon it, I was very happy. My last farewells were said; my last calls had been paid—the kindly hospitality of Seoul is not forgotten. The day had come at last, the horses were pawing in the court-
