the actions of his five intermediate neighbours,
and to keep a sharp eye upon movements
opposite. Every prince is assisted in his
government by two secretaries, whom the
court appoints, one to reside with him, and
the other to reside at Jeddo. These take
every act of government out of his hands.
The secretary, who lives with him, watches
him, and acts upon instructions from the
secretary who resides at Jeddo, who again is
prompted by the council. Not only does the
prince live surrounded by a mob of unknown
spies, but he is obliged, every alternate year,
to leave his principality and to reside at
Jeddo; his wife and family are always kept at
Jeddo in the character of hostages. Furthermore,
pains are taken to prevent a prince
from being rich. He is required at Jeddo to
impoverish himself by displays of pomp; and
if his purse be long, the Ziogoon invites
himself to dinner with him; an honour great
enough to ruin any noble in Japan. Similar
checks are upon all governors of towns and
all officials. Any neglect reported by a
spy, any infraction of a rule, threatens
disgrace, and makes it necessary to perform the
act of suicide before described. So it was not
without cause that they were taught at
school the hara-kiri. Perhaps you think the
council is omnipotent. Far from it. The
council may, indeed, make any law, which
will be submitted by the president for
sanction to the Ziogoon. Then, should the Ziogoon
refuse his signature, and differ in opinion
from the council, if he blame the law, the
question is submitted to the Ziogoon's three
next of kin, and they are umpires. If these
decide against the Ziogoon, he is deposed
immediately; if they decide against the
council, then its president and members must
rip themselves up.

Yet still this tyranny of custom, which
would seem to be so burdensome to all, goes
on, because all are so bound that none can
begin to stir. The Japanese, as we have
partly been able to see, are an acute race—-
they have original and thinking minds; with
a dash of Asiatic fierceness, they are generous,
joyous, sympathetic. They love picnic parties
and music, with a buffoon; who first
encourages them to throw off restraint, to laugh
and riot in good-nature; and, assuming then
his second otfice, draws himself up demurely,
to give all a lesson in poli teness. The buffoons
who go for hire to promote mirth with a
pleasure-party, go also as masters of the
ceremonies. The treatment of Golownin, as a
prisoner, will also illustrate the nature of the
Japanese. In moving from one prison to
another, he walked, bound so tightly with thin
cords that they cut wounds into his flesh.
These wounds the soldiers dressed every
evening, but did not slacken any string; they
said that he was fettered in the customary way.
Yet these men willingly would take him on
their backs, to carry him, when he was
footsore; people in the villages were gladly
suffered to show sympathy by feeding him
with pleasant things as he passed through;
and when he had made efforts to escape;
which, if successful, would have entailed
hara-ikiri on his guards; they still showed no
abatement of good-nature.

Under the main bridge of Jeddo lies our
Phantom Ship, and from the heart of that
great city of the East we float out to the sea.
It does not take us long to get to Tower
Stairs; and now a Phantom Cab will take
you home.

THE MOMENTOUS QUESTION.

The Alhambra, Camberwell, 1851.

MR. CONDUCTOR,

I CANNOT help thinking that yours
is among those valuable publications whose
columns are ever thrown open to the
complaints of the intelligent "Father of a
family." You sympathise with these men,
already past the prime of life, in their
struggles with the unrefined omnibus driver;
you weep over the tale of their daughters,
perpetually insulted in public places; in a
word, you are a man and a Briton, and fond
of fair-play. Sir, I am both intelligent and
the father of a family, and this must form my
apology for troubling you.

About a month ago, blessed with the society
of a noble and strong-minded woman, I was
as happy as the days—- and, permit me to add,
the evenings—- were long. The Alhambra,
Camberwell, is my place of residence, and
before the untoward events which I am about
to narrate, its doors were perpetually thrown
open to the exercise of liberality, as my friends
of the Stock Exchange are willing to testify.
My two eldest boys, Albert and Wellesley,
whom I have destined to succeed me, are at
present at school, making rapid progress in the
dead languages; our three younger cherubs are
still in the heaven of the nursery. Our
establishment included—- besides a nurse—- Gaspar
the page, Sarah the housemaid, and Mary
the cook. If there was anything upon which
my wife prided herself, it was on her art in
managing and keeping in order these
retainers; and, I must do her the justice to say,
that she reigned supreme in the kitchen,
though not, as some of my enemies have
maliciously asserted, in the parlour.

It was on the evening of the 20th of March
—- a day never to be forgotten—- that I stood
at my dining-room window, looking out into
the front garden. Twilight was beginning
to wrap Camberwell in its dusky mantle;
I know not why, but a vague feeling of awe
insensibly stole over me. I had not looked
long, when I observed a dark figure steal in
through the gate and hover about the garden.
It approached the door and stood there for a
moment or two apparently feeling for
something. I opened the window and called out
to it. It made no reply, but rapidly slipped
something into the letter-slit, once more
traversed the garden, and disappeared through