The morning dawned. The barbarians had remained tranquil during the night. The unhappy yakunin probably forgot the lie[27] he had told the day before, for at 7 o’clock by the foreigners’ time, the governor himself, Kayama Yézayémon, with his satellites arrived off the flag-ship. Its name, the _Susquehanna_, struck their fancy pleasantly, because the sound resembled those of “bamboo” (suzuki) and “flower” (hana). The grand dignitary of Uraga in all the glory of embroidery, gilt brocade, swords, and lacquered helmet with padded chin straps, ascended the gangway as if climbing to the galleries of a wrestling show. Alas, that the barbarians, who did not even hold their breath, should be so little impressed by this living museum of decorative art. There was not one of them that fell upon his hands and knees. Not one Jack Tar swabbed the deck with his forehead. Some secretly snickered at the bare brown legs partly exposed between the petticoat and the blue socks. This buniō in whose very name are reflected the faded glories of the old imperial palace guard in medieval Kiōto, was accustomed to ride in splendid apparel on a steed emblazoned with crests, trappings and tassels, its mane in pompons, and its tail encased, like an umbrella, in a silk bag. His attendant outwalkers moved between rows of prone palms and faces, and of upturned top-knots and shining pates. Now, he felt ill at ease in simple sandals on the deck of a mighty ship. The “hairy foreigners” were taller than he, notwithstanding his lacquered helmet. In spite of silk trousers, and rank one notch higher than the official of yesterday, he was unable to hold personal intercourse with the Lord of the Forbidden Interior. The American Tycoon could not be seen. The buniō met only the San Dai Jin, Captains Buchanan and Adams, and Lieutenant Contee. A long discussion resulted in the unalterable declaration that the Admiral would NOT _go to Nagasaki_. He would _not_ wait _four_ days for an answer from Yedo, but only _three_. The survey boats _would_ survey the waters of the bay. “His Excellency” (!) the buniō was shown the varnish and key hole of the magnificent caskets containing the letters from the great ruler of the United States. Eve did not eye the forbidden fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil with more consuming curiosity, than did that son of an inquisitive race ogle the glittering mysterious box. It was not for him to know the contents. He was moved to offer food and water. With torturing politeness, the “hairy faces” declined. They had enough of everything. The ugly barbarians even demanded that the same term of respect should be applied to their President as that given to the great and mighty figure-head at Yedo. This came near being a genuine comedy of Much Ado about Nothing, since one of the Tycoon’s titles expressed, in English print was “O.”