Mr. Squiers returned to the American Legation this morning. He only gets out to the hills twice a week in time to dine and returns to Peking the following morning. He tells us that the Boxers daily become more daring, but the diplomats and people in general put these things down to the usual spring riots which yearly seize Peking, and are due to hunger and disease, prevalent among the poorer classes after a long, hard winter. Nevertheless, it was deemed wise to inform the Tsung-li Yamen (the Foreign Office) that we were in the hills at the temple of Linqua Su, and would expect official protection from all rioters or malcontents who might be in this region, and a guard of twelve Chinese soldiers was promptly detailed to protect “nos personnes et nos biens.” But _such_ soldiers!—opera-bouffe mannikins in a Broadway theatre would frighten one with their martial air compared to these ridiculous apologies for soldiers, which were sent to us for our protection, their only weapons being dull-pointed rusty spears! Clara, the German governess, returned from Peking to-day, where she had gone to do some shopping, and tells us that all the natives she passed seemed to be armed, and that in all the temple enclosures companies of Chinese were being drilled. Our servants, mostly native Christians, assure us that these people are all Boxers, most of them flaunting the red sash, the insignia of that Society, and that they are preparing for a general uprising when the time shall be ripe—an uprising that has for its watchword, “Death and destruction to the foreigner and all his works, and loyal support to the great Ching dynasty.” _May 28._ The peace that settles on one after a long tramp in the mountains was rudely broken up for us a short while after our return from our walk yesterday, when we found ourselves thrown into the midst of a most exciting situation, from which we knew the chances were about even whether we should escape with our lives.