We were forced to wait some time while our tired coolies fed, the darkness meanwhile coming on rapidly. At length, rather than waste any more time, I started, walking in advance and leaving the coolies to follow; eat I could not. Soon the road divided into two, one a short cut over the mountain, the other a much longer one around it; we decided to take the shorter road, which also leading through the woods became extremely dark, so that in a short time we were obliged to call for torches, the road too turning out to be very bad. It was barely a foothold, circling and twisting down the precipitous mountain side. Mr. Underwood soon concluded that he would rather trust his own feet than his pony’s, as we heard the displaced stones go rattling down into depths far below; but as for me, though I would have much preferred to descend from my chair, which had some time before overtaken us, I was now so tired that it would have delayed us too much and added nothing to my safety. Still it was rather an uncomfortable thing to be carried along on the brink of a precipice, down a slippery, uncertain path, in a darkness which was scarcely relieved, only made visible, by the flickering torchlights, especially as they invariably burned out before the next came up, and we were obliged at times to proceed a quarter of a mile or more--it always seemed more--in total darkness; and yet worse than this is probably often experienced by people traveling in the mountains for pleasure. At last, however, after nine o’clock, Mr. Underwood came to the chair and bade me look up. There above us on a hill in relief against the starlit sky stood the walls and gate of the little city. A city of refuge indeed, and we realized that night, a little at least, of the joy of the hunted, who, closely pursued by the avenger of blood, found himself safe within protecting walls. The gates were hospitably open as our messenger had arrived, and we were expected. We were told that it was a custom in many towns in the north to set a lamp in each doorway as a token of welcome to expected guests who for any reason were persons of importance. As we passed down the street and saw these bright little beacons before each door our hearts were deeply touched. Although it was too late for a formal audience, and the gate of the magistracy was closed, my husband insisted on being admitted at once. The request was granted and he hurried in and began the usual ceremony of introducing himself, when a familiar voice exclaimed, “And don’t you know me?” Then for the first he looked closely into the face of the official before him, and found that he was an old friend from Seoul, who had often been entertained at our house.