The Commodore and self were properly mounted on the steadiest of the ponies, although mine, “Punch,” would allow none to pass him. Risk, with his usual luck, was on a runaway; Atkinson, who had but once before been in a saddle, was on an amorous pony that endeavoured to get at every herd of brood mares, of which there were many feeding on the plain, and at last got into difficulties by meeting two mares and a foal just as they were crossing the road from their straw-yard. A scream and a fight; one horse was kicked clean over, while the other two pawed and bit each other savagely. The youngster got out of the fray unhurt; then there was a chevy over the plain to separate the combatants and catch the runaway! As we approached the high land we got enveloped in mist and rain, and were obliged to abandon a short cut Mr. Deas was going to take us and return to the beaten track. The road was tortuous and slippery; numerous rivulets crossed by rickety planks, but these extraordinary ponies scampered along considerably faster than I liked or could help, without a fall, although with frequent slips of a yard or two. [Illustration: _From a Sketch by Commodore Jones, 1867._ _Crossing a River in Japan._] On arriving at the top of a steep ridge, which showed like a gap in the mountain, the mist held up and gave us a view of the plain we had traversed, with Hakodadi and the sea in the background, which has not been inaptly compared to Gibraltar, as seen from Spain. On the other side we have a view of the lake, with a volcanic mountain in the distance smoking. We had started too late to reach the fishing stream, so pushed on to a tea-house on the north side of the lake: clean and comfortable; here we did ample justice to our picnic dinner and enjoyed ourselves, as I fancy only sailors can; at least we do not get enough of this sort of life to make us indifferent to its (to me) many charms! [Sidenote: July 27.] The next morning we started for another of these comfortable and convenient tea-houses, situated on the shore of Volcano Bay, near the mouth of the Salmon River, the sportsmen intending to dismount some 4 miles above and fish their way down. Luckily, the party who led did not know the intended spot, and continued on until they reached the house at which we intended to rest. This brought the whole party on, when it was ascertained that we were two months too early for salmon, and there was not a trout left above 3 inches long. In the evening our party was increased by Lieut. Rose and Mr. Read of the _Serpent_. The scarcity of fish in no way interfered with our enjoyment. We were all early in the saddle. Started on our return by 9 A.M., a lovely and refreshing morning with a 30-mile ride before us, but as we got on to the plain on the other side the wind got up and the rain came down as it can in this country. But the comforts of home on board with a warm bath made the rain only another variety in our fun. [Sidenote: July 29.]