I felt that our attitude was the vaudevillian one of “I don’t care.” No doubt, if one of us had written a detailed report of what happened that day, and had dared to draw conclusions, and had sent this report to, say, our own General Staff, it might have been filed. But if we are going to deal with international problems, we must begin to regard foreign affairs seriously, and leave to the cartoonist his humorous conceptions of foreign peoples. We are somewhat inclined to regard humorously the deadly earnestness of the British in dealing with queer peoples, but the British know that queer peoples are sometimes the most dangerous. We persist in using them for comic opera material, and then wonder why we cannot analyze promptly, and take proper and decisive action to meet a crisis. As we stood there in the morning sun, with the wide river below, there was a sudden stir, and the lances of the Cossacks became more rigid as the troops came to attention. From round the corner, we heard the clatter of galloping hoofs, and suddenly, Kalmikoff swooped into view, mounted on a superb black horse. Rising in his stirrups, with saber upraised, he cried in Russian, as he passed at full gallop, a hail which was interpreted to me as: “Ussuri Cossacks! Your commander comes!” And from the line of horsemen, came the reply, yelled in unison, “We are glad to greet you,” and the lances, with their pennons, shot upward. Kalmikoff whirled back, dismounted, and strode into the church. A band blared the new Russian anthem. From the church now came a column of acolytes in white robes, some bearing crucifixes before them, some swinging censors, all led by mitered priests, who were intoning chants. The band became silent, an altar was set up in the square before the assembled troops, and a Russian mass was said. Kalmikoff and his staff stood at one side with bared and bowed heads, and on the opposite side, General Oi, and his staff at attention. In line with the Japanese, were Colonel Styer and his staff. But General Oi, as fitting for the ranking officer, stood a trifle to the front, in such position that he was almost directly in front of me, and as he bared his head, I was conscious of his shaven poll gleaming between me and the altar. He is a short, stocky, sturdy-looking man, with round, shaven face, of most martial bearing, and bears himself with quiet dignity. Thrust up behind the altar was the gorgeously colored and embroidered standard of the new regiment. The priest, in chanting the mass, at times removed his mitre, and his long black hair fell over his shoulders, equalled only in length by his heavy beard. The choir nearby sang the responses, and their voices were most sweet.