The public speaking at Pyeng-yang was concluded by an address, especially designed for the Japanese official classes and prominent business men, and given in the hall of the Japanese Club on the afternoon of the day before leaving the city. There were present about one hundred and fifty of this class of hearers. To them I spoke very plainly, praising their preparation for, and conduct of, the war with Russia; then warning them of the difficulties and dangers in business and politics which the rivalries of peace would compel the nation to face; and, finally, exhorting them to maintain the honor of Japan in Korea, before the civilized world, by treating the Koreans in an honorable way. Although, according to the testimony of the Japanese friend who interpreted this address, there were uneasy consciences in the audience, the warning and the rebuke, as well as the praise, were received with equal appreciation and gratitude. I take this opportunity to testify that, instead of deserving the reputation often given to the Japanese, of being abnormally and even ridiculously sensitive to criticism, I have found them, on the contrary, remarkably willing to be told of their failures and faults, and ready to receive, at least with the appearance of respect and kindness, suggestions for their correction and amendment. My engagements in Pyeng-yang came so near to the limit of exhausting my time and strength that I was unable to see as much as would have been otherwise desirable of the externals, and of the antiquities, of the neighborhood. From the piazza in front of our host’s house nearly the whole of the Korean city lies literally _spread out_, as all the cities of the country are, beneath the eye of the observer from a surrounding hill. The streets within the walls are, with one or two exceptions, narrow, winding, and made disgusting by foul sights and smells. Here there has been little or none of that widening of thoroughfares and superficial cleaning which has given a partial relief, both to the aspect and to the reality of Seoul. But, as has already been said, the natural situation is beautiful. Under the advice of Japan, a part of the now useless city wall went to make a fine _bund_; while the space left by the clearing was converted into a street. On passing through an indescribably foul, narrow lane, which makes a disgraceful break between the broad, clean thoroughfare of the Japanese settlement and the fairly broad but dirty street of the Korean city, we were told the following story of the recent attempt of the Resident to get this passage widened. The story is so characteristic of relations between the two peoples that I turn aside to tell it.