AMONG the many names of their beautiful country, the Japanese loved none more than that of “Land of Great Peace,”—a breath of grateful repose after centuries of war. The genius of Iyéyasŭ had, in the seventeenth century, won rest, and nearly a quarter of a millennium of quiet followed. The fields trampled down by the hoof of the war-horse and the sandal of the warrior had been re-planted, the sluices and terraces repaired, and seed time and harvest passed in unintermitting succession. The merchant bought and sold, laid up tall piles of gold kobans, and thanked Daikokŭ and Amida for the blessings of wealth and peace. The shop keeper held a balance of two hundred _rios_ against the day of devouring fire or wasting sickness, or as a remainder for his children after the expenses of his funeral. The artisan toiled in sunny content, and at daily prayer, thanked the gods that he was able to rear his family in peace. Art and literature flourished. The samurai, having no more use for his sword, yet ever believing it to be “his soul,” wore it as a memento of the past and guard for the future. He lounged in the tea-houses disporting with the pretty girls; or if of studious tastes, he fed his mind, and fired his heart with the glories of Old Japan. As for the daimiōs, they filled up the measure of their existence, alternately at Yedo, and in their own dominions, with sensual luxury, idle amusement, or empty pomp. All, all was profound peace. The arrows rusted in the arsenals, or hung glittering in vain display, made into screens or designs on the walls. The spears stood useless on their butts in the vestibules, or hung in racks over the doors hooded in black cloth. The match-locks were bundled away as curious relics of war long distant, and for ever passed away. The rusty cannon lay unmounted in the castle yards, where the snakes and the rats made nests and led forth their troops of young for generations. Upon this scene of calm—the calm of despotism—broke the vision of “the black ships at Uraga.” At this village, long noted for its _Midzu-amé_ or rice-honey, the Japanese were to have their first taste of modern civilization. Its name, given nine, perhaps eleven centuries before, was auspicious, though they knew it not. The Chinese characters, sounded Ura-ga, mean “Coast Congratulation.” At first a name of foreboding, it was to become a word of good cheer!