is dark blue. But during the
expedition to Pekin their uniform was white, which would have been
murderously conspicuous in operations against any force that was
composed of less bad marksmen than the Chinese. This is now to be
abandoned, and is to be replaced by something in the nature of khaki,
as will be the heavy round German caps by something in the nature of
straw hats or helmets, which will give more protection against the
sun, although not looking so smart.

Although the officers of all the Allies were immensely struck by the
discipline and equipment of the Japanese, close observers were still
more attracted by the underlying soldier spirit which animates them.
An inherent spirit of soldiering seems to possess every little Jap as
a natural heritage. They seem to love fighting for fighting's sake.
They appear to enjoy the whole thing like schoolboys do their games.
They take their killing much more kindly than the others, and appear
to be much more familiarised with the idea that it is part of the
game. Indeed, there is a zest and a verve and go about them when in
action that I have never seen in any other troops. There were numerous
instances in the siege of Tientsin of disregard of death. And outside
the gates of Pekin ten men who were killed in their attempts to blow
it up might apparently have been indefinitely multiplied at the
command of their officers without any danger of faltering. When at ten
o'clock at night they advanced to take the gate by assault which they
had failed to force in the morning, it was immensely attractive to
observe the gaiety, almost amounting to hilarity, with which they
advanced to the attack. All movements such as this they accompany with
singing. And after forcing the gate, when they met with opposition
going along the wall and had to lie down before a hot fire from the
Chinese, who made a final stand about half a mile from the gate,
the Japanese buglers stood up and played some of their quaint
war-songs.

[Illustration: Boer Shell Bursting Among The Lancers At Rietfontein.]

At night, in the camps on the way up, what I had mistaken for some
Buddhist evening prayer, when the soldiers tramped round like a human
prayer-wheel, was, I subsequently discovered, the chanting of a
war-song which had been composed by General Fukushima himself.

The interesting thing to observe will be to see how the Japanese
behave when they are getting the worst of it, how they will conduct
themselve