As we stood aside to let the procession pass, we raised our hands to our helmets in a last salute to a comrade. In sobered mood we waded on until, in the centre of the roadway, we came to a mat‐shed that marked the site of a monument to be erected on the spot where the German Minister, Baron Kettler, was murdered at the outbreak of the troubles. Foully slain as he had been by soldiers of the Chinese Imperial troops, his unhappy fate proved perhaps the salvation of the other Europeans in the Legations. For it showed that no reliance could be placed on the promises of the Court which had just offered them a safe‐conduct and an escort to Tientsin. And on the ground stained by his life‐blood the monument will stand, a grim memento and a warning of the vengeance of civilisation. Weary of our struggles with the mud, we now resolved to go no farther and turned back to the hotel, but not in time to escape a fresh downpour, which drenched us thoroughly. Next day we changed our abode, having found accommodation in the portion of Pekin allotted to the English troops; for the city was divided into sections for the allied occupation. Some officers of the Welch Fusiliers had kindly offered us room in their quarters in Chong Wong Foo. This euphonious title signifies the palace of Prince Chong, who was one of the eight princes of China. Our new lodging was more imposing in name than in fact. The word “palace” conjured up visions of stately edifices and princely magnificence which were dissipated by our first view of the reality. Seated in jolting, springless Pekin carts that laboured heavily through the deep mire, we had driven from the hotel through miles of dismal, squalid streets. Turning off a main road, which was being repaired, or rather re‐made, by the British, we entered a series of small, evil‐smelling lanes bordered by high walls, from the doorways of which an occasional phlegmatic Chinaman regarded us with languid interest. At length we came to a narrow road, which the rain of the previous day had converted into a canal. The water rose over the axles of the carts. Our sturdy ponies splashed on indomitably until ahead of us the roadway widened out into a veritable lake before a large gate at which stood a British sentry. As we approached he called out to us to turn down a lane to the right and seek a side entrance, as the water in front of the principal one here was too deep for our carts. Thanks to his directions, we found a doorway in the wall which gave admittance to a large courtyard. Jumping out of our uncomfortable vehicles, we entered. Round the enclosure were long, one‐storied buildings, their fronts consisting of lattice‐work covered with paper. They were used as barrack‐rooms, and we secured a soldier in one of them to guide us. He led us through numerous similar courtyards, in one of which stood a temple converted into a gun‐shed, until we finally passed through a small door in a wall into a tangled wilderness of a garden.