There was little further to be accomplished by me in Korea. My journey overland had taken me from Fusan to Seoul, and again from Seoul to Won-san, my examination of the inland and coast centres of mining and industry was concluded: the beauties of the Diamond Mountains, with their Buddhist monasteries, had been studied. At the end of these labours, I was weary and ill at ease; moreover the time was approaching when my long journey overland from Seoul, the ancient capital of Korea, to Vladivostock, the seat of Russian authority upon the Pacific coast, would have to be begun. The heat in Seoul had been most oppressive, when one day Mr. Gubbins, the British Minister, suggested a short spell of rest and recuperation upon an island a few miles up the Han River. Before nightfall, my staff and I were floating, with the turn of the tide, up the estuary of the river. Sea breezes blew over the mighty expanse of the smoothly gliding waters, and the burden of weariness which had been depressing me, lightened under the influence of these gusty winds and the freshening air from the harbour. The change from the hot and stuffy surroundings of the capital, where the crowds had ceased to be attractive and domestic bothers, arising from the preparation for my Vladivostock journey, had begun to jar upon the nerves, was most entrancing. When the moon burst out from behind a blackened canopy of cloud, as we sailed easily against the rapid current of the river, the rugged outline of the cliffs across the waters proved the reality of the transformation. During the small hours of the night I lay awake, playing with the bubbles and froth of the water in sweet contentment. I resolved to dally for a few days upon the small islands in the stream, halting in the heat of the sun and moving forward at night or in the twilight, when sea-birds could be killed for the pot and fish dragged from their cool depths for the breakfast dish. How delightful were the plunges into that swift current; and how often they were taken in the cool shade of some island backwater! Care and anxiety dropped away in those days of idle frolic, giving the mind, worn by the strain of many months of travel and the hardships of two campaigns, opportunity to recover its vigour. Then came some pleasant weeks in the island monastery, where, from a Buddhist haunt, perched high upon a lofty peak on Kang-wha, mile upon mile of smiling scenery lay open to inspection from my chamber window. [Illustration: BEYOND THE AMUR]