"What's the religion hereabouts?"
"Mostly Confucianism. Catholic missionaries have made a tremendous struggle to introduce Christianity, and their history has been a long series of martyrdoms. Why, in 1866, there was a great massacre of native Christians, and nearly ten thousand perished."
"That finished the matter, I suppose?"
"Not much. There are supposed to be at least forty-five thousand Roman Catholic Christians in Korea to-day. Just what will become of them if the country goes to Japan, or is divided up among the big Powers, nobody knows. The Koreans, by the way, have a standing army of seventeen thousand men, trained and drilled by European officers."
With talk of this sort, and various other statistics relating to the Hermit Kingdom, time passed rapidly, and the learned young ensign was still lecturing when the train rolled into the station at Seoul.
The two officers strolled up the shady side of the main street, and soon espied some curios from which they determined to select mementos of this strange city.
"We ought to have some change," said Bob. "I've nothing but English gold. Suppose I get this shopkeeper to give me Korean money for half a dozen sovereigns?"
"All right," agreed Liddon, with a twinkle in his eye which the other did not see. "He'll be glad to have the gold, no doubt, and will cheat you a little, but that won't matter."
"How can I make him understand what I want?" queried the midshipman, standing before the Korean helplessly, with the money in his hand.
"I guess I can arrange it," said Doc. Liddon gravely. "I happen to know the word for small change in this country. Hulloa, you! Sapeke!" The ensign held out the gold as he spoke, and let it clink.