The Japanese detachments were being withdrawn from the posts along that road, and we passed several well-equipped detachments, always preceded by bulls loaded with red blankets. The men were dressed in heavy gray ulsters with deep fur-lined collars, and had very thick felt gloves. They marched as if on parade, and their officers were remarkable for their smartness. When they halted for dinner, they found everything ready, and had nothing to do but stack their arms and eat! The peasant women went on with their avocations as usual. In that district and in the region about Tok Chhön, the women seclude themselves in monstrous hats like our wicker garden sentry-boxes, but without bottoms. These extraordinary coverings are 7 feet long, 5 broad, and 3 deep, and shroud the figure from head to foot. Heavy rain fell during the night, and though the following day was beautiful, the road was a deep quagmire, so infamously bad that when only two and a half hours from Phyöng-yang we had to stop at the wayside inn of An-chin-Miriok, where I slept in a granary only screened from the stable by a bamboo mat, and had the benefit of the squealing and vindictive sounds which accompanied numerous abortive fights. If possible, the next day exceeded its predecessors in beauty, and though the drawbacks of Korean travelling are many, this journey had been so bright and so singularly prosperous, except for Im’s accident, which, however, brought out some of the best points of Korean character, that I was even sorry to leave the miserable little hostelry and conclude the expedition, and part with the _mapu_, who throughout had behaved extremely well. The next morning, crossing the battlefield once more and passing through the desolations which war had wrought, I reached my old, cold, but comparatively comfortable quarters at Phyöng-yang, where I remained for six days. While the river remained open, a small Korean steamer of uncertain habits, the _Hariong_, plied nominally between Phyöng-yang and Chemulpo, but actually ran from Po-san, a point about 60 _li_ lower down the Tai-döng, which above it is too shallow and full of sandbanks for vessels of any draught, necessitating the transhipment of all goods not brought up by junks of small tonnage. There was, however, no telegraph between Po-san and Phyöng-yang, no one knew when the steamer arrived except by cargo coming up the river, and she only remained a few hours; so that my visit to Phyöng-yang was agitated by the fear of losing her, and having to make a long land journey when time was precious. There was no Korean post, and the Japanese military post and telegraph office absolutely refused to carry messages or letters for civilians. Wild rumors, of which there were a goodly crop every hour, were the substitute for news.