with humming bows attached, but all these have naught to do with the Ainu. A little to our satisfaction, for it would have been a hard trip over the snow to Omazaki, we found communication restored and were able to board our little steamer at nine o’clock and go to bed, although we did not sail until early in the morning. For fear of mines and hostile vessels, lying in wait, the run across the Straits of Tsugaru was made in darkness and slowly. When we rose in the morning, we were coasting along the coast of Yezo. There was snow over the landscape but less than we expected, after our glimpse of Aomori. The country was hilly; at times, mountainous; there was but little breadth of beach, and often the mountains rose abruptly from the sea-line. Here and there were little clusters of houses near the seashore. It was bitterly cold and a piercing wind was blowing. At 9.30 in the morning, we were in Hakodate Harbor, after passing through a narrow and tortuous channel. The town, with a population of perhaps 70,000, stretches along a coast line, presenting an arc of almost two-thirds of a circle, and rises upon the lower slopes of a great mountain mass, which rises finely in the background and is fortified. We anchored in the Harbor and would have gone on shore, if we could have learned that we were to lie there several hours. There are Ainu settlements on the outskirts of the city, a Museum of Ainu objects, and a mission station (including a school for Ainu boys), which we would have been glad to see. At 3.30 in the afternoon, we started. We could not find out when we were likely to reach Muroran, being absolutely without an interpreter, and so went to bed at nine o’clock, thinking ourselves entitled to the night’s rest. But at eleven, we were routed from our beds by the steward and found ourselves standing in the Bay of Muroran. The runner from the Maruichi Hotel, to which we had a letter from our Aomori host, took us in charge and loaded us and ours into a rowed scow. It was bitterly cold, a heavy wind was blowing, and snow filled the air. We were only lighted by paper lanterns, as, to the songs of the rowers, we crossed the stretch of tossing waters to the shore. Our pretty room at the Maruichi, our midnight supper, our first Japanese bed, and our charcoal fire, were a pleasant contrast.