We were delighted by the wild flowers just coming into blossom—hepaticas of shades varying from purest white to deep blue; large round-faced yellow heartsease; various colours of violets, and the sweetest large white ones; deep-red hairy anemones, and white crocus. As we had only come twelve instead of fifteen miles the previous night we decided that we must make it up, or the other stages arranged would be impossible, but at such a suggestion our men looked black and greatly demurred. They said thirty-seven miles was too long a journey; and when we came to a village nestling under the slope of a hill covered with fine pine-trees in which numbers of herons were clamorously preparing to roost, we were obliged to admit that it was no wonder the men were anxious to stop there. The place was thoroughly picturesque and showed signs of activity; there was even a police officer standing near the invariable notice board which adorns every village in Korea since the Japanese occupation. We pushed on and only stopped a moment to sketch a particularly good specimen of devil posts, of which we had seen numbers on the road. It is considered meritorious to add a stone to one of these wayside heaps, which takes the place of shrines. We spent the night at a small village, only arriving at dusk after thirteen and a half hours’ travelling; and we were not sorry to tumble into our cots after a short meal, to put out our lights, and so escape the curiosity of the natives, which we find a great trial. It is well-nigh impossible to shut the doors for more than a few minutes, or you feel asphyxiated, and it is only when the light is out that the eager villagers cease to gaze. One was reduced to the necessity of washing in the dark or getting up in the middle of the night to do it. [Illustration: DEVIL POSTS] [Illustration: ‘TEN PARTS IMPERFECT ONE’]