Prince Tokugawa Keiki, during his retirement at Shidzuoka, was often visited by those who had shared the fortunes of the Shogunate, but he entirely refrained from all interference with politics, and lived the life of a country gentleman, finding his recreation mainly in fishing, and showing his sympathy with the hard-working agricultural population in a way that won for him the respect and regard of all classes. When the Emperor sent for him to visit Tokio, a few years ago, he set out amid demonstrations of esteem on the part of the populace in Suruga which must have convinced him by their spontaneity that if in the course of events he had been compelled to relinquish the semi-regal state in which he had dwelt at the capital, he had retained in the hearts of his fellow-subjects of the Ten-shi a place of highest honour, and that the affection for his person evinced at every stage of the journey by those who were in former days his henchmen had flourished unabated throughout the lapse of close upon four decades. A writer once described the Shogunal entourage in terms which, after all the changes that Japan has undergone during the last quarter of a century, read somewhat strangely, but they serve to convey most vividly to the mind that magnificence by which, in the pre-Restoration period, the Court of Yedo was distinguished. There was a direct contrast between it and the almost severe simplicity of the Kioto Dai-ri, which housed the real monarch, in his complete seclusion, while his vicegerent performed most of the duties of sovereignty in a city 400 miles distant. The quotation is from an account given by one of his Highness’s own pages, and affords an interesting sketch of the daily routine in the Shogunal palace, or Nijo, at the Western Capital.