On the 20th of August we reached Kasatsu, where we proposed to remain for the afternoon to enable me to write up my report, which was bound to be rather a long affair, for we had gathered together a formidable budget of political and commercial information—now, after nearly half a century crowded with stirring events, altogether obsolete, but at that time full of interest. Here we met two or three officials with whom Satow was acquainted, and with whom, after dinner, we were engaged until past midnight in the usual discussions about politics, which, when held with persons connected with the Bakufu, were as tedious as they were vapid. More interesting, and as it turned out more fortunate for us, was the interminable wrangle about the road which we were to take on the morrow. We had determined on taking the shortest cut to Ōsaka, through Ōtsu, a little town at the further end of the Biwa lake. The Japanese officials were equally determined that we should not go to Ōtsu at all, making every sort of difficulty, obviously on account of its proximity to Kiōto, the sacred city. As a bait they offered to show us the famous temple of Ishiyama, which had been closed to Sir Harry. We were obstinate, Satow not a little suspicious at this great eagerness to take us sightseeing, and quite appreciating what the real object was. The landlord of the inn put in a word: “If the gentlemen are so eager to obtain commercial information, why don’t they go to see the famous Uji tea-district? That will be of great interest to them, whereas there is nothing to see at Ōtsu.” We stuck to our guns, and expressed our unalterable decision to take the nearest road by Ōtsu. We told them that we knew quite well what they were driving at, and that they had been sent on purpose to play this trick upon us; that if they had been candid with us we might have agreed, but in the circumstances, No! They seemed very much crestfallen, but returned to the charge. At last I lost patience, and turning suddenly round, told them that if they would write me an official letter explicitly stating their reasons, I would go by Uji, if not, guard or no guard, we would go through Ōtsu. After a little grumbling, they agreed to write such a letter, and went away to draft it. No fewer than three drafts were rejected as inadmissible, because they stated that we had not the Government permission to travel, which as diplomatists we had a right to do, and otherwise confused the issue; but at last they brought a satisfactory letter, in which they said that great complications had arisen at Kiōto on account of Sir Harry’s passing through in May, and they begged us therefore as a favour to go by Uji. It was a hard-won triumph for us. I have dwelt upon this midnight parley at Kusatsu at greater length than would have been justifiable had it not been for its consequences.