ready, the only thing remaining for me to do was to exert myself to the very last, to repay the favor of the Emperor and of the country with my own life. But, after all, this box has not borne the distinction of carrying my remains. Alas! it is now a mere laughing-stock for myself and my friends. That evening I wrote a letter to my elder brother in Tokyo and reported to him the recent events in the struggle, and told him that our attack was to begin on the morrow; that I was ready and determined to die; that though my body be lost at Port Arthur, my spirit would not forget loyalty to the Emperor for seven lives. Of course this was meant as my eternal farewell. On the same day I received a letter from that brother, in which I found the following passages of admonition:— “Think not of honor or of merit—only be faithful to thy duty.” “When Nelson died a glorious death in the sea-fight of Trafalgar, he said, ‘Thank God, I have done my duty.’” On the eve of this great battle I received these words of encouragement and instruction, which made my heart still braver and my determination still firmer. At 5 P. M. on the 7th of August, a great downpour of rain mingled with the thunder of cannon, and the afternoon sky became utterly dark, dismal, and dreary. We were halted on an eminence over the river Taiko, waiting anxiously for the command “Forward!” The rain became heavier and the sky darker. The Russian search-light, falling on one side of the hills and valleys, occasionally threw a whitish-blue light over the scene and impeded the march of our infantry. The plunging fire of the enemy became more and more violent as time went on. It made a strange noise, mingled with the tremendous downpour of rain. Lieutenant Hayashi and myself under one overcoat would exchange words now and then. “We may separate at any moment,” was Hayashi’s abrupt remark, as if he were thinking of his death. “I also am determined to die to-night,” was my response. Whereupon Hayashi said:— “What a long time we have been together!” We had no more chance to continue this conversation, but had to separate. We had been comrades through the campaign, and while at home had been messmates for a long time. It was this Lieutenant Hayashi who, at the last rush upon Taipo-shan, achieved the first entry within the enemy’s ramparts brandishing his sword. This hurried farewell was indeed our last—our hand-shaking an eternal good-by.