On the 10th I had to go back to Ōsaka with despatches for Sir Harry. I was sent in a steam launch commanded by Lieutenant Leventhorpe. The storm had hardly abated. The wind was still raging furiously. The impression of the night of the 8th, heightened by the death of Admiral Bell, was upon me, and I confess that I did not like it! But we all had on life-belts, and we got past the bar in safety. Still our troubles were not over, for as we neared the castle, we saw that one of the bridges was crowded with a very hostile mob, some of whom were making ready to sink our launch with a huge block of stone. In the nick of time our coxswain saw it, gave the boat’s nose a twist, and the great rock splashed harmlessly into the waves within a couple of feet of us. Some forty years later I had a very nice letter from that good fellow, who had done us such excellent service, asking me whether I remembered the occurrence, and the glee with which I called out to him, “Well done, coxswain!” When I reached Ōsaka on the evening of the 10th I found that on that afternoon a conference had taken place between the Foreign Representatives and the ex-Shōgun, as he now was, on the invitation of the latter, who was desirous of making a statement on the present condition of affairs. In the meantime it should be mentioned that following the example of his own officials, he was no longer addressed by his former high-sounding titles, but simply as Uyé-sama, which I should translate by “Highness.” Great interest attaches to this address, for it contained internal evidence that it was his own composition and new even to those of his advisers who were present, for the gentlemen of the Foreign Office, who feared to see their occupation gone and themselves reduced to the condition of “the hundred names,” could hardly suppress their surprise and joy when he announced that he would continue to direct foreign affairs. Their pleasure, however, was fated to be short-lived. The statement ran as follows: