At Syunan--a typical hamlet of mud walls and thatched roofs--I was assigned to quarters in the house of a wealthy native who owns the country-side. His abode differed only in size from that of his poorest neighbour, for a corrupt government and official exactions not merely destroy incentive to industry and enterprise but create a semblance of indigence among the well-to-do who wish to retain their property. Four mud walls and a mud floor, not over clean, gave me shelter, and I shivered all night in my fur coat, for I travelled with nothing more than my saddle bags in order that my progress might not be impeded. To my ration of rice and beef the owner of the house added some ducks’ eggs and an infusion of wheat--the native substitute for tea. On the way to Anju next day I passed miles of transport. The road was white with Koreans laden with rice packed in straw for the Japanese army. The coolie is strong and capable of much endurance. He will walk--as I afterwards discovered--fifty miles a day for a week or more; but he is unreliable, improvident, and incorrigibly lazy. He carries his load on a small wooden frame called a “chikai,” fastened to the shoulders with straw-padded loops. His ordinary burden is eighty pounds, and a day’s march is sixty li or twenty miles. The Japanese hired them of headmen, and paid by distance and load, so that they secured a cheap and ready transport in a country where wheeled traffic is almost unknown. They also made use of oxen, donkeys, and ponies. The Korean pony is very hardy, stands from eleven to thirteen hands, and can carry from 150 to 200 lbs. thirty miles a day. His feed is a hot mash, and he is not allowed to drink cold water. His nostrils are slit to make him long winded, and on the whole he is a very serviceable little beast, though his morals are those of the poultry yard, and his vices are legion.