In the afternoon we paid our first visit to the Tientsin Club. It was crowded with representatives of almost every nationality. Britishers, Americans, French, Russians, and Austrians were clinking glasses amid a chorus of “A votre santé!” “Good health!” “Svatches doróvia!” and “Here’s how!” Even an occasional smart little Japanese officer was to be seen. Naval uniforms were almost as much in evidence as military garb; for the officers of the Allied Fleets lying off Taku varied the monotony of riding at anchor, out of sight of the land, by an occasional run ashore and a visit to Tientsin and Pekin. The utmost good fellowship prevailed among the different nationalities. French was the usual medium of intercourse between Continental officers and those of the English‐speaking races. Britishers might be seen labouring through the intricacies of the irregular verbs which had vexed their brains during schooldays, or lamenting their neglect to keep up their early acquaintance with the language of diplomacy and international courtesy. The bond of a common tongue drew the Americans and the English still more closely together, and the greatest friendship existed between all ranks of both nationalities. The heroic bravery of the sailors and soldiers of the great Republic of the West earned the praise and admiration of their British comrades, who were justly proud of the kinship that was more marked than ever during those days when the Stars and Stripes flew side by side with the Union Jack. The famous saying of the American commodore, “Blood is stronger than water,” and the timely aid given by him to our imperilled sailors in this same vexed land of China, were green in our memory. The language difficulty unfortunately prevented much intercourse with the Japanese officers. Some of them, however, were acquainted with English, and these were readily welcomed by British and Americans. The club stands in the broad, tree‐shaded Victoria Road. Next to it is the Gordon Hall, a handsome structure famous as the refuge of the women and children during the bombardment. It contains a theatre and a public library, and is the scene of most of the festivities in Tientsin. Before its door stands an object‐lesson of the siege—two small guns of Seymour’s gallant column flanked by enormous shells captured from the Chinese. The two tall towers were a conspicuous mark for the hostile artillerymen, as was the even loftier German Club facing it. Close by are the small but pretty Public Gardens, where, in the afternoons, the bands of the various regiments used to play. Nearer the French Concession stands a large hotel, the Astor House; its long verandah was the favourite resort of the foreign officers. The groups in varied uniforms sitting round the small marble tables gave it the appearance of a Continental _café_—an illusion not dispelled by the courtesy which prevailed. As each new‐comer entered he saluted the company present, who all rose and bowed in reply.