In the routine of the march, it is pleasant to camp beyond the village for the noonday halt; near the river, if the weather permits bathing. The food can be prepared in the sunlight under some trees. This picnic halt gives an agreeable change from the native inn, over which the missionaries wail perpetually; it is, indeed, always to be avoided. I was several times in Korean inns, driven in by some sudden and temporary downpour, which cut off my retreat. The evening camp made me independent of them in general; every evening the interpreter found the cleanest-looking private house and bargained with its proprietor to let two rooms for the time of my visit. The arrangement was never refused, nor was I ever subjected to rudeness or to any insult upon these occasions. The family would freely help my servants, and when the grooms had removed themselves and their horses to the inn stables, no one was disturbed. The boy prepared breakfast in the morning. The space allotted to us was always ample for my camp-bed, kit, and mosquito curtains. It opened, as a rule, upon the courtyard, around which the house is built. There was plenty of air, as one side was open; the flooring was of thick timbers, raised from the ground. If the weather proved inclement the place afforded warmth and shelter. Moreover, this system has much to commend it on the score of cleanliness; the price paid by me, half a dollar, for the rooms was of course usually double the price which had been arranged. Occasionally while travelling, when these private houses were unprocurable, other makeshifts had to be adopted, an open encampment or the official quarters at the _Yamen_. This latter place was inconvenient, and we always accepted anything of a private nature rather than venture into the _Yamen_ or the inn. Many nights were passed upon the verandahs of these houses, with a private room leading from it at the back, in case it became necessary. Our beds were pitched as much in the open as possible, the silent beauty of the night hours quite justifying the measure. Many nights I undressed upon the edge of the street, my camp-bed pitched beneath a verandah, a peaceful and inoffensive crowd of Koreans smoking and watching me a few feet off. I would get into my sleeping-suit, roll into my camp-bed, and close the mosquito curtains, upon which the crowd would quietly disperse. As publicity was unavoidable, and it was useless to object, it was easier to accept the situation than to struggle with the curiosity of the spectators.