I took the post-train south. On board were a missionary and his family returning to England at the end of his term; another missionary and his wife from the south on a social visit to Newchwang; the usual Russian officers and Russian immigrants; the wives and children of Russian officers stationed at Port Arthur, going thither to take up their residence; a sprinkling of adventurers; some local European and Chinese travellers, and two Japanese families on their way back to their own country. The passengers were such as one expected to meet, the same classes as had been represented on every post-train south for weeks past, and the train, like all trains in Manchuria, was crowded. Some were bound for Newchwang, more for Dalny, but most, as myself, were going through to Port Arthur. About midnight all the British travellers but myself left the train at Tashichiao. The train rolled on slowly through the darkness; the Cossacks patrolled the line, the riflemen guards played cards; the soldiers and gendarmes at the small stations talked with the conductors and brakesmen; the passengers slept. War had already begun at Port Arthur, but none of us knew. I was early astir, and at the first stop got off to take tea. The train was late--we had lost hours during the night. The day broke cold and clear. There was a brisk, biting wind, which now and again drove clouds of dust before it. First to the right, then to the left, then to the right again, the blue sea could be seen beyond the white fringe of ice which clung about the coast. The train was late and I sought the cause. It was of little use asking an official, for Russian officials invariably say they know nothing, and as often as not they are right. There is a somewhat true story told of me in Manchuria, to the effect that one morning when I was standing on a railway platform, a traveller asked the station-master if that day there was an express train to Harbin, and he replied in the negative. Whereupon I interrupted, “Excuse me, but there is, and here it comes.” Then the express drew up at the station. As a matter of fact, as soon as I got into Manchuria, I secured a station-master’s time-table of _all_ the trains running over the Eastern Chinese Railway. This gave the days and the time of all arrivals and departures; showed, not only the passenger service, but the connexions of military, freight and construction trains. It was easily understood by any one who could use a _Bradshaw_. From an American passenger who had come from Newchwang and joined the train at Tashichiao, I learned how much we were behind time there; from the brakesman I ascertained that there had not been a breakdown; there was nothing so severe in the weather that the train could have been delayed through its inclemency, consequently a freight train out of Port Arthur was the most probable cause of our slow running.