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TWO:"These fellows had been for centuries a class with extraordinary privileges. Their ideas in regard to work of any kind were like those of their kindred in Europe and some other parts of the world; it would degrade them to do anything, and consequently they were generally addicted to a life of idleness. There were studious and enterprising men among them, but they were the exceptions rather than the rule. The ordinary Samurai was, more or less, and usually more, a worthless fellow, whose sole idea of occupation was to follow the lord of his province and be present at ceremonials, and, for the rest, to spend his time in drinking-shops and other improper places, and indulge in occasional fights with the men of other clans. They were the only persons allowed to wear two swords; and it was the constant wearing of these swords, coupled with the drinking of sa-kee, that brought on most of the difficulties between the natives and the foreigners. A group of these men would be drinking in a tavern, and, while they were all heated with the spirits they had swallowed, one of them would propose to kill a foreigner. They would make a vow to go out and kill the first one they met, and in this mood they would leave the tavern and walk along the principal street. They would fall upon the first foreigner they met, and, as they were three or four to one, and were all well armed, the foreigner was generally slaughtered. Mr. Heusken, the interpreter of the American Legation, was thus murdered at Yeddo in 1861, and the German consul at Hakodadi met his death in the same way. The Samurai were the class most opposed to the entrance of foreigners into Japan, and, so long as they were allowed to wear swords and inflame themselves with sa-kee, the life of a stranger was never safe."He turned. There was not a second to spare. The two long-haired fellows came nip and tuck. I see yet their long deer-hunters' rifles. But I remembered my pledge to this man's wife, and proudly found I had the nerve to hold the trigger still unpressed when at the apron of the bridge the rascals caught their first full sight of us as we sat humpshouldered, eye to eye, like one gray tomcat and one yellow one. They dragged their horses back upon their haunches. One leaped to the ground, the other aimed from the saddle; but the first shot that woke the echoes was neither theirs nor mine, but Sergeant Jim Langley's, though that, of course, I did not know. It came from a tree on our side of the water, some forty yards downstream. The man in the saddle fired wild, and as his horse wheeled and ran, the rider slowly toppled over backward out of saddle and stirrups and went slamming to the ground.

Mike Wellington - BlackTie.co