During the evening, whenever our companions were not observing me, I replenished my glass with plain soda‐water, and my brother officer had remained faithful to his weak beverage. Consequently, at the end of dinner we were perfectly sober; while our host and his friends who had imbibed freely were—well, the reverse. Conscious of their own state and contrasting it with ours, they gazed at us in admiration, and exclaimed, “These English officers have the heads of iron.” We parted at a late hour. With many expressions of mutual friendship and goodwill, the party broke up; and so ended a very interesting and enjoyable evening. No longer a homeless outcast, I retired to rest in the friendly shelter of Kell’s quarters. During the night I was dimly conscious of heavy rain but slept on unregarding. When I rose in the morning I found that a change had come over the scene. A burning sun no longer blazed overhead. The sky was dark with leaden clouds; the rain was falling with tropical violence, and all the landscape beyond the station was almost invisible. Already the line was covered with water; and fears were expressed by the staff that a freshet might occur in the hills and the railway be rendered impassable and possibly be breached. As the day wore on, these apprehensions became intensified. In the afternoon the train from Tong‐ku steamed in, literally ploughing its way through the water. The driver reported that not many miles from Shanhaikwan the floods were out and as his engine passed through them the fires were nearly extinguished. Another hour would render the line impassable. Pleasant tidings these for me; for our party purposed returning to Tientsin on the morrow, and some of us were starting for Japan the day after. My rambles that afternoon were confined to the station platform and the house of some friends of Kell’s, who, learning of my forlorn state, had most kindly asked him to bring me there for lunch and dinner. They were connected with the railway; and the ladies of the family had passed through an anxious time during the troubles, but had bravely refused to seek safety in flight. Next day the rain still continued. Reports came in that the line was impassable. The station was completely isolated from the rest of the world. Those of my party who were living with the Gurkhas, ignorant of the fact that no train could start, essayed to drive down to it in native carts. The stream over which the friendly Chinaman had carried us was in flood; and as they endeavoured to cross it, horses, vehicles, and passengers were nearly swept away. One smaller cart with their luggage was carried some distance down from the ford; and kit‐bags and portmanteaus were only rescued with the greatest difficulty. An invaluable collection of films and negatives belonging to one of the party, who was an expert photographer, was entirely spoilt. It was a real loss, as they contained a complete pictorial record of North China.