gots. At first this storm of sound paralyses you a little; then a
lust for battle gains you, and you steadily drive bullets through the
Chinese loopholes in the hope of finding a Chinese face. Whenever they
bunch and press forward we wither them to pieces.... But men are
falling on our side more rapidly than we care to think--one rolled
over on top of me two hours ago drilled through and through--and if
anything should happen to the relieving columns and delay their
arrival for only two or three days, this tornado of fire will have
swept all our defenders into the hospitals. The Chinese guns are also
booming again, and shrapnel and segment are tearing down trees and
outhouses, bursting through walls, splintering roofs, and wrecking our
strongest defences more and more. Just now one of our few remaining
ponies was struck, and it was a pitiable sight, giving a bloody
illustration of the deadly force of shell-fragments. The piece that
struck this poor animal was not very big, but still it simply tore
into his flank, and seemed to burst him in two. With his entrails
hanging out and his agonised eyes mutely protesting, the pony
staggered and fell. Then we despatched him with our rifles.

Our casualty list has now passed the two hundred mark, they say. In a
few days more, fifty per cent. of the total force of active combatants
will have been either killed or wounded.

During the lulls which occur between the attacks, when the Chinese
soldiery are probably coolly refreshing themselves with tea and pipes
and hauling away those who have succumbed, we hear from the north of
the city the same dull booming of big guns, continuous, relentless,
and never-tiring. It is the sound of the Chinese artillery ranged
against the great fortified Roman Catholic Cathedral. When we have a
few moments we can well picture to ourselves this valiant Bishop
F----, with cross in hand, like some old-time warrior-priest, pointing
to the enemy, and urging his spear-armed flocks to stand firm along
the outer rim. We can also see, in the smoke and dust, the thin fringe
of sailors who must be forming the mainstay of the defence. Perhaps,
sprinkled along the compound walls, with harsh-speaking rifles in
their hands, they are a sort of human incense, exorcising by their
mere presence the devils in pagan hearts....

Scant time for thoughts; none for recording, as each hour shows more
clearly what we may expect. Scarcely has the fire been stilled in one
quar