“I am _so_ sorry. It would be impossible for you to start so soon. The railway has been breached in several places by floods, and three bridges have been washed away. The line is broken and all traffic suspended. It is _most_ unfortunate.” I realised that I had caught my Tartar. “How soon do you think I could travel?” I asked. “Oh, not for several days, I am afraid,” was the answer, in a tone of deep sympathy for my disappointment. “The repairs will take some time as the damage is extensive.” I saw that I was no match for Russian wiliness, and retired from the contest. “It is very unfortunate. But perhaps, after all, it would be best to go by sea.” “Yes, yes,” he assented eagerly. “It would be very difficult, even dangerous, by the railway.” Then the host interposed and changed the conversation. But at the end of the evening, when all the Russians had imbibed freely, my neighbour forgot his caution. When bidding me good‐night, he insisted on giving me his address in Newchwang, where he usually resided, being then only on a visit to Shanhaikwan. He cordially invited me to come and see him. “But I fear that I shall have come and gone before you can possibly arrive there,” I said. “We leave Taku in three or four days; and it is not twenty‐four hours’ sail from there to Newchwang. So I shall have left before you can get there.” “Oh, not at all,” he said unguardedly. “I am leaving Shanhaikwan for Newchwang to‐morrow morning by a train starting at ten o’clock. So be sure to come and see me.” I smiled to myself as I shook his hand. No wonder Russian diplomacy prospers. That dinner was the merriest function at which I had assisted for a long time. Our friends were excellent boon companions, and the conversation in divers tongues never flagged. Tiny cigarettes were handed round between each course; and the menu comprised many delicacies that came as a pleasant surprise in the wilds of China. When the meal was ended and cigars were lit, my host asked me whether I would prefer coffee or _thé à la Russe_. As I had always understood that this latter beverage was prepared from a special and excellent blend of tea and flavoured with lemons, I voted for it. To my horror, the soldier‐servant brought me a long tumbler filled with an amber‐coloured liquid and proceeded to stir a large spoonful of _jam_ in it. The mixture was not palatable, but courtesy demanded that I should drink it. I declared the concoction delicious, drained my glass and set it down with relief. The attendant promptly filled it up again, my host insisting that as I liked it so well, I must have more. It nearly sufficed to spoil my enjoyment of the whole dinner.