* *

The third phase continues unabated, with nothing even to enliven it.
Despatches in Chinese from nowhere in particular continue to drop in
from the Tsung-li Yamen; pen had been put to paper, and the despatches
have been duly answered, leaving the position unchanged. I have been
even requisitioned, rebelliously, I will confess, to turn my hand to
despatch writing; but my fingers, so long accustomed only to
rifle-bolts and triggers, and a clumsy wielding of entrenching tools,
produce such a hideous caligraphic result, that I have been coldly
excused from further attempts. It is incredible that one should so
easily forget how to write properly, but it is nevertheless
true--eight weeks in the trenches will break the best hand in the
world. An ordinary man would think that what I write now is in a
secret cipher!

But of diplomatic life. All these despatches which come in are in the
same monotonous tone; they are entreaties and appeals to evacuate the
Legations and place ourselves under the benevolent care of the
Tsung-li Yamen, to come speedily before it is too late. Of course, not
even our Ministers will go.

But there is more news, although it is not quite cheering or definite.
On the 18th the Japanese received a message direct from Tientsin,
giving information to the effect that thirty thousand troops were
assembling there for a general advance on Peking. They say that ten
days or a fortnight may see us relieved, but somehow the Japanese are
not very hopeful.

On this same date came a secretary from the Tsung-li Yamen in person,
accompanied by a trembling _t'ingoh'ai,_ or card-bearer, frantically
waving the white flag of truce. They must been very frightened, for
never have I seen such convulsiveness. The secretary, walking quickly
with spasmodic steps, held tight to the arm of his official servant,
and made him wave, wave, wave that white flag of truce until it became
pitiful.

Thus preceded, the Tsung-li Yamen secretary advanced to the main-gate
blockhouse of the British Legation, where he was curtly stopped, given
a chair, and told to await the arrival of the Ministers, or such as
proposed to see him. Seated just outside this evil-smelling
dungeon--for the blockhouse, encased in huge sandbags, is full of dirt
and ruins and has many smells--the feelings of this representative of
the Chinese Government must have been charmingly mixed. Near by were
grimy and work-worn men, in all manner of attire, with