Fusan is a beautiful spot, in an ideal situation for a harbour, but the town itself has all the ugly characteristics of a busy seaport. The bay is surrounded with high hills, showing a picturesque and varied outline, with fruit-trees and other vegetation, giving a brighter note of colour to the sombre pine-trees which cling to their rugged sides. The natural excellence of the harbour, which is almost closed by an island, leaving a channel for ships on both sides, has been further improved by the removal of some of the spurs of the hills so as to give larger space for wharfage. There is no doubt that Fusan will continue to grow in size and importance, as it is the terminus of the railway and the nearest point for reaching Japan. The ferry to Shimonoseki only takes twenty hours, and plies daily in both directions. In the centre of the town is a beautifully wooded little hill which has been laid out by the Japanese with great taste. Long flights of handsome stone steps lead directly upwards under the shade of overhanging pine-trees, and winding paths lead more gently to the summit, offering alluring seats from which to admire the bay. There is a succession of Shinto shrines which seem to be much frequented. The worshipper approaches, claps his hands loudly, or rings the bell to call the attention of the deity, and then kneels for a moment in prayer. Some of the worshippers tossed up beans as they knelt, or offered money, and there were not a few more costly offerings hanging up—long tresses of black hair. These temples are of recent date, and war trophies were also placed in front of them. Some of the passers-by paid no further attention to the shrine than to bow and remove their hats, but on the whole they elicited a considerable amount of worship, and it is clear that the Japanese are more attached to their religion than some people give them credit for. In this case they have selected the most beautiful and most conspicuous place in the town for their temples; have made a noble approach to them, and planted the little terraces with lovely flowering shrubs, which were just bursting into blossom. The hill-sides were gay with wild azalea and fragrant with the scent of the pines. We made an early start, as they assured us that it would be too late if we went into town by the morning train, so a primeval bus was chartered to convey us over the rugged roads, and we arrived at the office at 9.30, only to be told that the steamer would not start till 4 or 5 o’clock in the afternoon. We learnt afterwards that a large fine steamer left the night before, although they so confidently assured us there was none. It is a hard trial of patience to travel in Korea.