Korea and the Koreans. 239 
Nakdong. The latter is one of the most important streams of 
Korea, and the facilities that it affords for communication and 
interchange have done much towards rendering the district 
through which it flows one of the most fertile and prosperous of 
the land. 
The coasts of Korea are forbidding to the mariner and seem 
well adapted for the preservation of the seclusion that it has been 
so long the national policy to maintain. On the east, facing 
Japan, unbroken lines of steep hills, void of harbors, bend ab- 
ruptly into the deep waters of the Japan Sea. To the westward 
countless outlying islands extend seaward many miles, liberally 
interspersed with rocks and shoals, between which eddy swift 
streams of tide-water. The terrors of the Maelstrom would find 
their counterpart in many a Korean whirlpool, which, forming in 
the vicinity of some submerged ledge, will cause a large vessel to 
heel suddenly well over, and will swing her many points off her 
course in a way to make the stoutest hearted captain tremble for 
the safety of his charge. 
The climate of Korea exhibits wide ranges of temperatures and 
hygroscopic conditions. In the northeast province, Ham-kiung- 
do, the winter is as rigorous as that of Nova Scotia; at the 
extreme south, on the island of Quelpaert, it somewhat resembles 
that of Louisiana. The warmth of Quelpaert is due to the 
proximity of the Kura-siwo, or Black Stream of Japan, the Gulf 
Stream of the Pacific, part of which is here turned into a cul-de- 
sac, from which it escapes with difficulty. One result of this is 
the creation of a stormy region near the island, where the mariner 
may at all times look for a hard blow. A characteristic feature 
of Yellow Sea coasts are the Chang-ma, or mid-summer rains, 
which set in with fair regularity in July and during their month’s 
duration resemble in phenomena and general effects the periodic 
rains of the tropics. The winters, in all but the southern parts of 
the country, are long and severe and set in with great suddenness. 
As an illustration of the rapidity of this change I remember that 
on one occasion I was ferried across the Han river near the capital 
at a time when the only indication of cold weather was a film of 
ice along the river banks, and that within forty-eight hours after- 
wards I rode back across the river ice on horseback, over the line 
of the former ferry. 
Careful meteorologic records have now been kept at the open 
ports for more than five years; at Che-mul-po, on the Yellow 
