The day soon broke, and simultaneously the opposing artillery commenced a tremendous fire; that of the Allies being directed at the city wall, at the south gate pagoda, and at any guns that were visible; while the enemy divided their attention between the advancing columns and the Allied guns. In the otherwise deathlike quiet of the summer’s morning, a series of roars, and distinctly visible flashes, created an extraordinary impression on the infantry, who seemed to feel that this was only the prelude to something compared to which the everyday occurrences of the last six weeks would altogether pale into insignificance. It was so unusual, this artillery duel—which was being waged so fiercely and at such a distance as to be without a sound of rifle fire or a sight of the enemy—which every now and again burst forth into a sustained fire, only to be succeeded by a storm of rifle bullets and the almost inevitable attack, followed by the Allies’ steady reply, ending in the repulse of the Chinese, and the destroying of houses by shell fire. The present was all so different: the defenders had assumed the offensive; the long hoped for and long expected day had come, and the possibility of capturing the enemy’s headquarters found the men in such a determined mood that the possibility augured a certainty. The Chinese did not make a prolonged resistance at the arsenal, and the Japanese were quickly in full possession. The British, Americans, and Austrians were following them, when all at once the air seemed alive with bullets, and the British who had formed the Japanese supports, being neither able to locate the fire nor to see the enemy, immediately extended and lay down. Not so the Americans, however, who came swinging by the rear of the prostrate British, and suffered heavily; the experience gained was costly but profitable, for they likewise immediately assumed the prone position. Then ensued one of those trying half hours that seem to come in most engagements. With no enemy in sight, and no possible chance of retaliation, the men lay there restless yet eager. Bullets fell so thickly that the air seemed, to use a Scotch expression, like a “kist full of whistles.” With the force were six horses, five of which were killed in the first few minutes. Nor were they the only loss, for here Captain Lloyd of the Marines was mortally wounded in the throat, while yet relating his experiences of the Seymour column. Almost his last words were to the effect that, having come safely through that trying time, he feared not for his safety then. The conduct and the courage of the men were splendid. They showed the utmost confidence that the order which regulated them to lie on the fire-swept plain, and prevented them from gaining the shelter of the arsenal walls, only some two or three hundred yards in front, was only given, that something more important to the main issue should first take place before their work began.