Our gates are all closed tight, and occasionally we hear thundering down Legation Street as whole troops of half-starved horses, ponies, and donkeys (animals which have been left by their owners in their stables, and which have managed by some means to free themselves, either by looters untying them, or perhaps fire freeing them), dash past at top speed all together in a fury of liberty regained. And dangerous it is for anyone to be on the road when one of these wild troops race down the street, for he will certainly be trampled to death. After a time these mad collections of animals become tame and quiet from hunger and exhaustion, and are willing enough to be led into almost any courtyard. Everything is unusual in this wonderful Peking. This morning I walked with Colonel Churchill and Captain Mallory on the Tartar Wall and down it to the Ha Ta Men Gate, where we went down the Ramp and walked all over the tremendously exposed German and French lines with their barricades and defences. In the German compound the havoc wrought is unimaginable. Whole sides of the houses have been battered down, in some instances one or two walls only left standing; and as for the French compound, every house, every building, and every wall has been levelled to old Mother Earth again, and nothing but the little house of the concierge at the gate, which flies the French flag, is left standing.

On seeing this one can understand why the French at the conference not only wanted Peking to be looted and sacked, but to be burnt as well. As the whole place can be inspected now, Mr. Gamewell tells me that four big mines, almost completed, have been found, and, had not the allies arrived when they did, that the following night would have seen some terrific explosions in the British Legation, the Hanlin Library, and on the Tartar Wall even. The mortality of the siege would thus have been doubled by twenty-four hours’ further delay by our troops.

Baron von Ketteler’s body was accidentally discovered on the 16th by the Russian troops who were passing near the Tsung-li Yamen, very near the spot where he had been murdered. The body had been thrown into an old wooden box and left. The polite communication which had been sent to the Baroness von Ketteler during the semi-armistice days of the siege that her husband’s body was lying in state at the Tsung-li Yamen was thus proved to be an utter fabrication on their part. To-day his formal obsequies took place in the German Legation, the doyen of the Corps, the Spanish Minister, reading a short address, which was as well put as it was as hard for Baroness von Ketteler to hear. I did not go to the ceremony, however, for I felt as if I had attended more than enough to last me the rest of a long life.

Although the allies arrived on the afternoon of the 14th, it was not until the afternoon of the 16th that the Japanese troops went to the relief of the Pei-t’ang, where Archbishop Favier had held his own so long. They had had tremendous losses by attack and mines which exploded in their midst—300 Chinese converts killed, 75 orphan children, and 60 foreigners, including 2 French officers who had been sent with the 20 French marines to help them at the beginning of the siege.

This huge fortified cathedral was the only other mission in or about Peking which was strong enough to hold out. At four o’clock they were relieved, and at seven o’clock the French Minister arrived to make inquiries about his compatriots. All the commanders who have inspected the Pei-t’ang say its defence was a wonderful one.

At every meal now Mrs. Squiers’s guests are most numerous, charming, and interesting. The servants seem to be all back, and although the days are filled with incredible stories of what the different nationalities are “doing” in Peking, our evenings are always delightful, as they are made up of the companionship of the most delightful men in Peking, who, when they arrive to dine, throw off the disagreeable features of these war times, and devote themselves with happiness to this opportunity, probably their first for many weeks, of enjoying the ordinary cheerful amenities of life; and while these nice parties smack of the camp—for everyone is in uniform—it only makes things more interesting, for they help to cheer up the tired siege people. It is the same everywhere in the different Legations: each nationality is surrounded by its military, with a sprinkling of more or less unattached secretaries and Ministers Plenipotentiary, who are temporarily without Legations to go to or troops to attend to.

Sir Robert Hart is very busy with his mountain-high accumulated Customs work to be attended to, but he manages often to drop in to tiffin or dinner.

Colonel Mills, General Chaffee’s Chief of Staff, an old friend of our host’s, comes frequently to this hospitable house, as does Colonel Waller, a delightful person, with his young officers, Lieutenant David Porter and Lieutenant Harding. Colonel Mallory and Colonel Churchill, the British Military Attaché to Tokyo, who is an old friend of mine, and many other charming people, would make this list a long one should I attempt to make it complete.

Colonel Churchill is returning, as I am, as soon as he can to Tokyo. He intends to go down the river with Miss Armstrong and Sir Claude’s little girls with the first convoy sent down by the British, which will be a day after General Chaffee sends down his.

Fargo Squiers, my maid, and I, will then meet him and Miss Armstrong and the children in Tien-tsin, and we will make our journey to Japan by the first way that presents itself. He thinks that Admiral Bruce, who is in command of the British fleet at Taku, will put a despatch-boat at our disposal, and that we will be sent immediately over to Yokohama.

In coming up to Peking Colonel Churchill brought me a very kind invitation from Admiral and Mrs. Bruce—I had known them for some time—to come to Mrs. Bruce at Wei Hai Wei, the British concession near Chefoo, in case I was ill or needed a rest before starting for Tokyo. So, with the letters to Colonel Moale, in command of our troops in Tien-tsin, to do everything possible for us, Mr. Squiers, Mrs. Squiers, and I, feel that Fargo and I will have an interesting and reasonably comfortable trip over to Japan, where I know my sister is counting the days until I return to her.

General Chaffee has delayed sending the first convoy down until the 21st, which gives me a little more time before starting. It has made me feel that really, after having been shot upon all summer from the Imperial walls, I should like a peep inside before I leave Peking.

The city has been portioned off to the different generals, and the English and Americans have a district where there is very little to loot. To-day a French officer of high rank, wishing to get treasure out of a palace that was in our lines, came to Mr. Conger and asked him if he would allow him to change the boundary a trifle. The Minister naïvely agreed to the Frenchman’s purely disinterested request, and the consequence is there are a lot of indignant American military men wandering about trying to understand why this change in the map should have been made without consulting them.

August 19.

I talked over with Mrs. Squiers my great wish to see something of the wonderful Purple City before leaving, and while she was too busy nursing little Bard to go with me, she saw no reason why, with ample protection, and escorted by an officer, I should not ride through this mysterious and beautiful park.

I had expected General Chaffee would give me an order to enter by the Ch’ien Men Gate and its continuing three gates, and pass practically through our own lines, upon his hearing that I wished to do so. He was usually so amiable when I asked him for anything, that this time, much to my surprise, he became very angry, and, pounding his fist on the table, he assured me that he would not allow me to even ride through the Imperial City, giving as his refusal the only reason that “there were sights of war there which no American girl should see,” and pounding his fist a second time to emphasize the fact. All of which was ridiculous, as the sights of war referred to were simply the heaps of corpses which surrounded the different gates of the Imperial City by which the allies had entered, and, as a consequence of the defeat of the Chinese, the dead were still there. He was right, inasmuch as these are not pretty things to see; but as I had been in the midst of war for two months, and had seen all these things many times, I did not feel that it was just in him to deny me the privilege now of being able to get a bird’s-eye view of this wonderful park, which he might have done by allowing a special permit to go round it on horseback before leaving. But one can’t fuss with people who deny you things for what they think is for your own good, especially when the person in question happens to be General Chaffee.

After this sad refusal, the first person I met was Baron von Rahden, who, on hearing my tale of woe, was delighted to hear that it was one which was so easy to remedy. As General Chaffee had the power to write a permit to go into the Forbidden City, so had the Russian Commander-in-Chief. He flew off, and in a few minutes returned, bearing an order from the headquarters of the Russian troops giving him power to escort me through the Imperial City, with a company of Cossacks as a military guard, so that we could come to no possible harm from snipers or marauding parties.

I was all excitement to be off. I felt like a naughty child, and was afraid to stop a moment, fearing something might still stop me. But we could not start, as there was no horse or pony in the Legation, and the Cossacks had only their necessary number. Von Rahden was a resourceful person, and told me that while I was putting on a riding-habit he would have a horse got ready for me. He sent his men off with the word that some sort of an animal for me to ride must be here in fifteen minutes, and when I was ready to go I found the Cossacks all lined up and Von Rahden holding two of the sorriest, thinnest-looking horses I had ever seen. His men had stopped a stampeded troop of animals out in Legation Street, and these two were the best. The horse he selected was half mad with fear, but I finally managed to mount him, and off we started, lickety split, Von Rahden and myself leading, and the half-company of Cossacks thundering after us. This dashing down deserted streets and rushing up slight grades made me realize that one was no longer a prisoner, at any rate.

We rode for a long time through absolutely deserted streets, at all moments on the qui vive for shots from closed doors, or for a possible ambush at each turning in the road. Our horses shied at corpses in our path, and we were listening for unheard noises from apparently empty houses, many of which had tiny little foreign flags flying from some window or a painted foreign flag roughly executed over the door, the owners hoping these Western insignia might protect their property from looters.

Before entering the Forbidden City we passed through three series of walls, at the entrance to which were piled innumerable dead Chinese, silent proof that many lives were given in the vain attempt to protect the Imperial City; but after we were once inside, these horrors were forgotten in the grandiose landscape gardening, which almost overwhelmed us by its magnificent simplicity. We crossed the wonderful white marble bridges which spanned the artificial waterways, and the glorious lotus-flowers were all in bloom on the banks and partially in the water. They are such gorgeous, big flowers; they are like the Chinese architecture—wonderful in big, sweeping lines. We rode on through this semi-cultured landscape, where every detail was so carefully attended to that the ensemble was a complete joy to the senses, and after the eight weeks we had been barricaded in our Legation district this park seemed like heaven.

We climbed the Coal Hill, and got the only view I ever had of the Purple City. We were at such a height that we could look right down and get a good glimpse of the plan of these palaces, besides obtaining a gorgeous general View of the whole Imperial City. On descending the hill, I must say I was disappointed that the palaces in this Holy of Holies were not more imposing. They were low, long buildings constructed of the gorgeous Imperial yellow tiles. The extraordinarily rich colouring of these buildings made one forget momentarily the plainly low architectural lines. Unfortunately, we had no permission to enter these closely-guarded, mysterious precincts. We hated to leave this spot of beautiful trees, long avenues and vistas, and, above all, the pure air, to return to our half-burnt, wholly ill-smelling Legation district.

At nine o’clock all the Anglo-Saxons sang a Te Deum on the tennis-court. Mr. Norris conducted the service, and Dr. Smith, the author of “Chinese Characteristics,” made a most stirring address. We all surely sang it with hearts full of a thankfulness we had rarely ever before felt.

August 20.

To-day I took a walk all over the German lines with Mr. von Bergen, Second Secretary of the Legation, and, in fact, all over our old siege lines, and said a cheerful good-bye to it all. To-night Mrs. Squiers has a farewell dinner, and to-morrow, at 6.30 a.m., we start with ourselves and our baggage in United States Army schooners en route to Tungchow, where we take primitive houseboats to sail down the Pei-ho to Tien-tsin. A detachment from the 9th United States Infantry is to accompany us, and everything is to be very military in this escort for the first convoy. How absurd to compare my coming to Peking and my leaving it! I came up on Sir Robert Hart’s private car in a few hours, and will go down to the coast in an antiquated Chinese boat, which will take as many days as the train took hours. And so, floating down the river, I will have much time to think quietly about this wonderful siege, to forget the disagreeable and the bad, and to remember the great and the good.