Since we have been on this station these islands have been a bone of contention, between China and Japan, as to which shall possess them; the old "father" and "mother" farce being recognised as played out by mutual consent. The Japs, in 1877, took the initiative, and sent an expedition to Napa, and forcibly made the native king prisoner; and before the Chinese were aware of what was taking place, the Japanese were administering the laws in all parts of the little kingdom, and gradually absorbing it into their empire. The question between the two nations is far from being settled yet, and may at any future time prove a _casus belli_. The appearance of the houses on shore has given rise to not a little speculation. All that we are enabled to make out of them from the ship is a thatched roof raised about ten feet off the ground, and supported on four stout uprights. Can these be dwelling houses? On landing, and coming close up with them, we at once saw that whatever else they were intended for, they were not places of abode. Close under the admirably palm thatched roof is a strongly-made, tray-shaped floor, with a small locked door beneath the eaves. Such was their simple structure. After a little thought, we arrived at the conclusion that they must be granaries for the stowage of grain, possibly the government tribute houses, as they were of different design and vastly superior build to the mud and stick hovels in which the people live. In their surroundings the natives exhibit all the squalor and dirt of China, with none of the cleanlier qualities of the people of Japan. Though they followed us about in droves, they never attempted any familiarities; in fact our first overtures were treated with awe-like silence. The only words we understood, in common with them, were "tabac" and "Ya-pun" (Japan); indeed Japan is the beginning and end of their ideas--their one standard of perfection. Everything they noticed about us--watches, biscuit, the buttons on our clothing, our _boots_ even--were all qualified with the word "Ya-pun," in a most admiring and reverential tone. Seemingly the Loo-Chooans have never heard of England, though on passing a school house--wherein were about a score of children on their knees behind a similar number of box-like desks, one of the youngsters jumped up and shewed me an English spelling book! We saw no money amongst them. They however recognised the Japanese silver yen, but more on account of the inscription on it than from any knowledge of its money value, I think. Buttons were eagerly sought after.