which, in the absence of much detailed information, it is most difficult to determine. A most reasonable assumption, however, is, that this initial and rapid increase between the years 1896 to 1898 was due to the abolition of all the restrictions connected with Chinese rule, and the substitution in their place of honest and enlightened methods of government. By 1898 the real and immediate benefit of this change of government had been realised, and trade had reached its normal level. Since then Japan has been struggling with all the difficulties attendant upon the development of a new country. The attraction of capital, the diversion of trade from established centres, the education or importation of an industrial population, these all require time, and until they are in some degree accomplished no substantial and steady increase in trade can be expected. The revenue has risen from £200,000 in 1895 to £1,400,000 in 1901. Taxation amounts to about 11s. per head for general purposes, to which must be added an additional sum of 5s., approximating to the average amount raised in the prefectures for local purposes. A considerable proportion of the revenue (£400,000 in 1901) is derived from monopolies of camphor, opium, and salt, opium yielding some £135,000. An attempt has been made to deal with the opium question on the same lines as in Burmah. The right to purchase and use the drug is con fined to those possessing government certificates as opiumsmokers. These certificates are renewed annually, fresh ones are granted very sparingly, and by this means the authorities hope that by the time the present generation of smokers have died off the use of opium, with all its deleterious effects, will have ceased to exist. So far these measures have in Burmah met with indifferent success, and it will be interesting to see whether the Japanese fare better in their most laudable and enlightened attempts to eradicate this most deplorable of vices. The two chief and most serious obstacles to future development are the labour difficulty and the attitude of the savages. At present restrictions, amounting almost to prohibition, are placed upon the immigration of Chinese, not for political or social reasons, as in America and Australia, but because a recrudescence of disorder is feared by the influx of bad characters from the mainland. The result is that wages of unskilled labourers stand at the abnormally high rate of 1s. 4d. a-day. One foreign merchant informed me that he had decided to defer the investment of a considerable sum of money in a local undertaking as long as this scarcity of labour continued. As the country is at present perfectly quiet and singularly devoid of crime, business men look forward with confidence to the removal of these restrictions and the restoration of normal conditions in the labour market. The estab lishment of friendly relations in the history of Japan. While with the savages is a much she has made an alliance with more troublesome matter. There one she is engaged in a lifewould probably be no difficulty and-death struggle with anin arranging for a delimitation other of the Great Powers. of these borders or for some Her own country is small, its understanding with regard to resources limited, and she must barter and exchange; but the expand if she wishes successsavages refuse to allow foreign- fully to pursue the progressive ers to settle within their con- ambitious policy on which she fines, and they have no desire, has embarked. Her hope and even for valuable consideration, aspirations lie in a closer and to grant any concessions for the a controlling union with China, working of the resources they at in the reconstruction of the present control. They wish for Chinese administration, in the the fullest measure of independ- reorganisation of the Chinese ence. The Japanese naturally, army; and her work in Foras the sovereign Power, are un- mosa shows that she possesses willing to consent to any such im- among her people those qualiperium in imperio, and they only ties of energy, patriotism, and tolerate for the time being what determination so essential for they are unable to suppress. the successful accomplishment of such a task. The present is a critical time WITH THE FLEET. BY ANDREW BALFOUR. THE pretentious title surely conjures up visions of mimic war and Mr Kipling, thoughts of huge, smoke-belching battleships and speedy cruisers, piotures of evil-looking torpedoboats and the still more villainous destroyers, genial memories of the handy man afloat or ashore. No such manœuvres, no such churning leviathans of the deep, no such hideous 30-knot wave - smashers and bucklers, no such trim and disciplined seamen, however, form the subject of this sketch. The fleet, indeed, is numerous, but its vessels are tiny craft; it wages war but with the finest of the finny tribe, its tactics are simple yet efficient, its crews as grand types of seafarers as ever donned jerseys and sea-boots, but peaceful and peace-loving, save when a net is fouled or a hated steamtrawler encroaches on their preserves, or inspiring bold John Barleycorn rouses the latent devil in them; but that, happily, is an event rare and growing rarer. The tea-caddy has ousted the whisky - bottle from the caboose. Our tryst with the skipper had been for a "wee bit afore sunset," and so as the sea grew grey and the shore shadows lengthened we descended the slope leading to the bay, where, riding at safe anchorage, lay grouped the fleet of herringskiffs. Each skiff, or "skift as she is termed locally, is a half-decked vessel, with a tiny cabin forrard and a well amidships and aft, crossed by the thwarts, and with its curving bottom heavily ballasted. The sharp stern cocks saucily upwards, the mast has a rakish slant, but each tiny craft is a model of strength and seaworthiness. Buoyant as ducks, fleet as sea-swallows, picturesque amongst the picturesque, the herring-boats of the Scottish West Coast are a fit subject for the artist's brush and the poet's pencil. Nor have they been neglected, and yet it is meet that sober prose should tell of a staid and sober calling. A hard one to boot is that of the herring-fisher, but full of a gambling element such as his soul loveth. A wild free life, working while others sleep, sleeping while others work, night-prowlers on the face of the waters, lords of the firths and fiords as were the Vikings of old. A cobble, packed full of sturdy men till her gunwales were wellnigh flush with the still sea surface, carried us aboard, dropping her human cargo here and there as she ranged alongside the Annie, or the Flying Scud, or the Mary Campbell. Sweethearts and wives give their names to many a boat, as well they may, for the boat is the standby, the proud possession, even if the man has but a share in her. The sea of the Sound is clear as crystal, and, gazing downwards, one could note shoals of young lythe and saithe, the hardy greedy "podlies" of the East Coast, sailing hither and thither in what are very paradises of happy hunting-grounds. A codling showed his broad shoulders and his flickering fins as he nosed lazily along, and the bottom was of the purest sand save where carpeted by the gleaming white bodies of dead herring, for waste is lightly thought of when millions are the spoil. It is early yet, and there is no need of haste while all things move leisurely aboard, save at the supreme moment when the laden nets are lifting from the deep, or when a rival skiff disputes the tenancy of a likely sea-stretch, or when it is a race with sweeps for the herring screw and the highest prices. Here and there from little stove-pipe chimneys a haze of blue smoke drifts into the air, here and there a burly fisher leans overside and washes a scaly scoop-basket, here and there sounds the creak of tackle as a mast is hauled into position prior to the setting forth. Another little cobble, sculled by a lively lad and full of great bearded fellows, darts rocking on the water through the fleet. The wonder is how each man knows his own craft, for wellnigh all are as alike as peas, save for a new boat shining in her varnish, or the black skiffs, scarce such dainty vessels as the brown and yellow. Away across the Sound the night clouds gather behind barren mountain-ridges, and presently there steals upon us a breeze salt and stealthy, but gathering in the going till the wavelets lap, lap upon the clinker-built timbers, and the stout chains strain as the sharp bows gently rise and fall. The brown tanned nets are neatly coiled in the stern. The sea grows greyer and outlines blurr. The chill of evening falls upon us, for it is September in the North and like to be cold, so that there is a comfort in crouching at the cabin-door and looking in upon the space with the side-bunks and the cheery stove where tea is in the making. A bowl of the same is excellent wherewith to wash down huge hunks of bread spread thickly with good butter. An offer of marmalade is declined, and our own contribution to the mess in the shape of cheese and jam and biscuits is held over till a more convenient season, for it is time to get under weigh. "I'm thinkin' we may be gettin' her up now," remarks Colin the skipper, and presently the whole crew of four are busy with the anchor. Our help is accepted; but not till we handle the chain and feel the strain of the heavy pull do we recognise the difficulty of an unaccustomed task. Bent double, with stretching backs, and arms and feet firmly planted on the little fore-deck, we tug as though it were a tug of war. At first there is the slack to come in, and it is easy; but as soon as the skiff's nose stands vertically above the anchor, as soon as the grip of the flukes has to be loosed, the muscles grow tense, and there is a feeling that we attempt the impossible. A "Hoop! hoop!" serves as a "Yo ho!" and link by link the heavy chain comes slowly crawling aboard. For a space it seems as though we were about to fail. There is no response, no lessening of the tension, and the sweat breaks out upon us. Then at last there is a sudden easing, and quick and sharp the metal rattles on the planks and the chain coils clinking behind the hindmost. Up comes the anchor, and very insignificant it is when safely housed, so much so that the late effort seems ridiculous. Next it is the turn of the mast, and as soon as rope and pulley have got the long log of pine at the proper angle, the brown sail flaps upwards like the wing of a wounded bird, curves like a bird's breast as the breeze fills it, and answering to the horny hand upon the tiller, the skiff glides upon her way. It is the poetry of motion, scarce perceived by the senses, and yet a tiny wake runs smoothly astern, and we draw out from among the other boats accompanied by a half-dozen, starters with ourselves. How well has Colin Hunter portrayed just such a scene. With a rough wash of paint of many colours he gives us the greenish purple grey of the sea in all its transparency and with all its lights and shadows. A daub of ruddy brown, and lo! the tall sail spread against a lemon sky. Even so, for behind us in the west flames the emblem of VOL CLXXVI.-NO. MLXVI. dying day. The heather-clad ridges are black as ebony, and the yellow light above them, streaked with lean long clouds of salmon pink, throws the whole into sharp relief. The little pier is hidden in the shade, the cluster of white houses glimmers faintly, wavelets, fresh and spurting, splash merrily as our forefoot cleaves them, and gurgle as the skiff's bulk drives them aside in a noisy swishing wash. Sail after sail, hull after hull, come stealing out from the darkening shore-line and take their divers courses. There will be no moon to-night, but a few stars hang high like tiny lamps, blotted by passing clouds, but only to twinkle again, serene and unconcerned as the vapour masses drift into the west. North and east we head across the Sound and hearken to the infrequent blowings of a bottle-nose intent upon the fry. It is lonely on the deep, and yet there is a sense of rest and peace as we lie and watch the mast-head pressing on and on, and the stiff slant of the gaff. We set a jib and travel faster, leaping like a live thing, and there is a thunder of billows on the planks and a drumming and drone aloft and a shrill song of the wind about the tense ropes. Stiffly the craft stands up to the breeze, and the salt spray spurts viciously aboard. To one in the cabin it sounds as though a great storm were raging withoutcreakings and groanings, and the recurring thud of successive waves. The place smells M |