Nagasaki is a rather large town of over one hundred thousand inhabitants, and lies scattered picturesquely over the hills that surround a fine bay. Most of the streets, especially in the Japanese quarter, are too narrow for horse traffic to be possible through them; horses are, therefore, replaced by men, who with their little two-wheeled carriages (_jinrikisha_) play the part of cab horses, and are called _kurnei_. There are so many of them that they literally stand before every house, and crowd in front of the hotels and big shops. They surround any stranger in the street, bidding against each other for his custom, and each trying to win his favour, chattering in broken Russian or English. For the modest sum of ten _sen_ (about 2½_d._) the course, or twenty _sen_ the hour, the _kurnei_ will take his “fare ” with marvellous swiftness up hill and down dale; and it not seldom happens that though the perspiration may be streaming from the brow of the _kurnei_, the “civilised” European in his little carriage may be seen laying a stick or an umbrella across his shoulders to urge him onward. The poor fellow who thus turns himself into a beast of burden must give almost half of his hardly earned day’s wage to the proprietor of the _jinrikisha_, and must also pay something to the State for the licence authorising him to support himself in this laborious way. His living, however, is cheap enough, his food consisting of rice and an inferior kind of fish. Most of the houses in Nagasaki are two-storied wooden buildings, the ground-floor being used as a shop, inn, or workshop. It was a puzzle to me where all these innumerable shops could find customers, and how they managed to exist. In my rambles I often saw a whole row of shops without a single purchaser, and if one entered he was instantly surrounded as though a customer were the rarest of guests. The houses in the Japanese quarter are built in a wonderfully light and airy fashion, as if just run up hastily for summer quarters. Throughout the town there reigns the most perfect order; the streets are excellently paved, and the portion before each house is kept clean and watered by the occupier. There is never the least dust, and the air is singularly mild and pure. One feels how each breath dilates and strengthens the lungs, and it is not to be wondered at that many Russians and English use Nagasaki as a health-resort.