Yesterday's journey was one of the most severe I have yet had, for
in ten hours of hard travelling I only accomplished fifteen miles.
The road from Kurumatoge westwards is so infamous that the stages
are sometimes little more than a mile. Yet it is by it, so far at
least as the Tsugawa river, that the produce and manufactures of
the rich plain of Aidzu, with its numerous towns, and of a very
large interior district, must find an outlet at Niigata. In
defiance of all modern ideas, it goes straight up and straight down
hill, at a gradient that I should be afraid to hazard a guess at,
and at present it is a perfect quagmire, into which great stones
have been thrown, some of which have subsided edgewise, and others
have disappeared altogether. It is the very worst road I ever rode
over, and that is saying a good deal! Kurumatoge was the last of
seventeen mountain-passes, over 2000 feet high, which I have
crossed since leaving Nikko. Between it and Tsugawa the scenery,
though on a smaller scale, is of much the same character as
hitherto--hills wooded to their tops, cleft by ravines which open
out occasionally to divulge more distant ranges, all smothered in
greenery, which, when I am ill-pleased, I am inclined to call "rank
vegetation." Oh that an abrupt scaur, or a strip of flaming
desert, or something salient and brilliant, would break in, however
discordantly, upon this monotony of green!

The villages of that district must, I think, have reached the
lowest abyss of filthiness in Hozawa and Saikaiyama. Fowls, dogs,
horses, and people herded together in sheds black with wood smoke,
and manure heaps drained into the wells. No young boy wore any
clothing. Few of the men wore anything but the maro, the women
were unclothed to their waists and such clothing as they had was