which is generally let hang down artistically over the right side. When this has been successfully accomplished, the extra length of trousers is rolled up so as to prevent the "unmentionables" from being left behind as you walk away, and a short coat, tight at the shoulders and in the shape of a bell, with short but wide sleeves, is put on to cover the upper part of the body. This coat also, like the trousers, is padded, and reaches almost to the haunches. It overlaps on the right hand side, two long ribbons being tied there into a pretty single-winged knot and the two ends left hanging. In winter time, the forearm, which in summer remains bare, is protected by a separate short muff, or sleeve, through which the hand is passed, and which reaches just over the elbow. Then come the padded socks, in which the huge trousers are tucked, and which are fastened round the ankle with a ribbon. And, lastly, now we come to the shoes. Those used by the better classes are made of hide, and have either leather soles with nails underneath, or else wooden soles like the Chinese ones with the turned-up toes. The real Corean shoe, however, as used every day for walking and not for show, is truly a peculiar one. The principal peculiarity about it is that it is made of paper; which sounds like a lie, though indeed it is not. Another extraordinary thing is that you can really walk in them. If you do not believe it, all you have to do is to take the first steamer to Corea and you can easily convince yourself of the fact. The greater part of the population wears them, and the _Mapus_ especially walk enormous distances in them. They are scarcely real shoes, however, and one should, perhaps, classify them rather as a cross between a shoe and a sandal, for that is just what they are. The toes are protected by numberless little strings of curled untearable paper, which, when webbed, make the sole, heel, and back of the sandal, and this is joined to the point of the shoe by a stouter cord going right round, which is also made of the same kind of twisted paper. This cord can be fastened tighter or looser to suit the convenience of the wearer of the sandal-shoe. The Corean is an unfortunate being. He has no pockets. If his hands are cold he must warm them by sticking them down his belt into his trousers, and if he be in company with people, he can generate a certain amount of heat by putting each into the other arm's sleeve. As for the money, tobacco, &c, that he wants to carry, he is compelled to provide himself with little silk bags, which he attaches to his waist-band or to the ribbon of his coat. These bags are generally of orange colour or blue, and they relieve a little the monotony of the everlasting white dresses.