The remainder of that day, and the whole of the next, were spent in complete rest. After the events of the last week, it seemed difficult to realise that anything out of the ordinary was afoot. There was no shelling, no attack on the outposts—in fact nothing but the everlasting sniping during the hours of darkness, which merely ensured the watchfulness of the sentries. Women were again seen about the streets, and a few little children walked about with the air of supreme indifference to their strange surroundings. Every one knew that this was only a lull before the storm of the bombardment, and another siege; but it was felt that the worst was over, and that the Chinese blockade would never again be as effective as heretofore. Relievers and relieved met and exchanged experiences at the bar of the German club, which was still open, and of which all officers became honorary members. Dinner parties were given by the lucky ones whose stores of tinned luxuries had not already vanished, it being rightly held that it was well to make the most of the impromptu truce, which existed only that the Chinese might collect enough _morale_ to again assume the offensive. In the evening the “Terrible” 12-pr. came in, escorted by a small body of the Hong-Kong regiment, who arrived at the relieving force’s last camp only a few hours after the commencement of the advance. This regiment is composed almost entirely of Pathans, who were enlisted in India for service at Hong-Kong. Their arrival at this stage of the operations enabled them to claim to be the first Indian troops on the spot; but as a matter of fact there were twelve Sikh policemen in Tientsin, who all volunteered for military service, and took part in the recent defence.