The lions of Loudon just now are the Japanese "Ambas-
sadors," that is to say, Sionii Iwakura, the Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs, and his suite. They differ very much from the Burmese "Ambassadors." The latter are a knot of persons sent over by a Prince of the third rank to Great Britain with the in- tention of inflicting a slight upon the Indian Viceroy, by appearing to paw over his head and claim for their master equality with his mistress. They ought to have been snubbed, and have not, we believe, been received on business by Lord Granville. The Japanese are envoys from an independent Prince of the first, Asiatic, rank, who occupies a very ex- ceptional position, who is revolutionising a nation of thirty millions, and who has chosen to represent him his own highest official grandees. How it happens that Japanese officials, one of them, we believe, an hereditary officer who shared for centuries in the Mikado's seclusion, should be good English scholars, wear Western dresses, understand lectures on mechanics, and deliver epigrammatic opinions on English politics, is, we con- fess, a puzzle ; but these things are done. Iwakura wants no Mr. Burlingame, and except in the matter of tailoring is not indebted to American advice, but acts, thinks, and observes like a keen diplomatist of the European school. He is worth studying, as well as conciliating, even if he is not the herald of the Mikado,—of a man, that is, who is powerful enough to decree a new dress and a new creed.
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