Comfortably installed in the Hôtel du Nord, we determined to devote our first afternoon in Pekin to a visit to the quarter of most pressing, though temporary, interest, the Legations, on which the thoughts of the whole civilised world had been concentrated during their gallant defence against a fanatical and cowardly foe. As the distance was short, we set out on foot. The courtyard of the hotel opens on to the long street that runs through the Tartar city from the Ha-ta-man Gate, leading into the Chinese city. As the wall was close at hand, we ascended it by one of the ramps or inclined ways that lead to the top, and entered the tower above the gateway. It was a rectangular three-storied building with the usual sloping gabled roofs and wide, upturned eaves of Chinese architecture. The interior was bare and empty. The lower room was wide and lofty, the full breadth and depth of the tower, and communicating with the floor above by a steep ladder. From the large windows of the upper stories a fine view over both cities was obtained. We looked down on the seething crowds passing along Ha-ta-man Street and away to where, above the Legation quarter, the flags of the Allies fluttered gaily in proud defiance to the tall yellow roofs of the Imperial palace close by. Descending, we emerged upon the broad paved road that ran along the top of the wall, and found it a pleasant change from the close, fetid streets. The side towards the Chinese city, the houses of which run up

to the foot of the wall, is defended by a loopholed and embrasured parapet. We soon found ourselves over the Legation quarter and looked down on the spot where the besieged Europeans had so long held their assailants at bay. A broad ditch or nullah with walled sides, which during the rains drains the Tartar city, ran towards the wall on which we stood, passing beneath our feet through a tunnel in it, which could be closed by an iron grating. This was the famous water-gate by which the Anglo-Indian troops had entered, first of the Allies, to the relief of the besieged. The nullah was crossed by several bridges, over one of which passes Legation Street, along which we had ridden in our rickshas that morning. On the left bank of the nullah, looking north, stands the English Legation, surrounded by a high wall enclosing well-wooded grounds. Opposite it, on the right bank, is the Japanese Legation, similarly enclosed. During the siege the two were connected by a wall built across the watercourse, which is generally dry, and they thus formed the front face of the defence. A portion of the city wall, cut off by breast works on the summit, became the rear face, which was held by the Americans, who were attacked along the top of the wall itself. The French, German, and Belgian Legations lay to the right and rear of the Japanese; while the Russian and American stood between the British Legation and the wall. All around the limits of the defence were acres of

Gate of the British Legation on the right, wall across the nullah connecting it with the Japanese Legation Wall of Tartar city in the background

wrecked and burnt Chinese houses, destroyed impartially by besiegers and besieged.

After a long study of the position from our coign of vantage, we descended to the left bank of the nullah; and, passing the residences of the American and Russian Ministers guarded by stalwart Yankee soldier or heavily built Slav, we came to where the imposing gateway of the English Legation opens out on the road running along the bank. Inside the entrance stood the guardroom. To the right lay the comfortable residences of the Minister and the various officials spread about in the spacious, tree-shaded grounds. We passed on to a group of small and squalid Chinese houses, which served as the quarters for the officers and men of the Legation Guard, chiefly composed of Royal Welch Fusiliers. The officers in command, all old friends of ours, received us most hospitably, and entertained us with grateful refreshment and the news of Pekin. We were cynically amused at learning from them an instance of the limits of human gratitude. The civilian inhabitants of the English Legation have insisted that a wall should be built between their residences and the quarters of the guard, lest, perchance, the odour of "a brutal and licentious soldiery" should come betwixt the wind and their nobility. They gladly welcome their protection in time of danger, but in peace their fastidious eyes would be offended by the sight of the humble red-coat. Our hosts showed us