May 27th.—­I have been pacing the deck looking at the dancing waves sparkling under a bright full moon.  It is the third time, I think, that I have seen it since I have been in this gulf.  I had a message last night late from the Admiral, stating that he is within two miles of Tientsin!  I sent Frederick up that he might see what is going on, and let me know when I ought to advance.  I had also a communication from the Chinese Plenipotentiaries, but it was not of much importance.  I do not think that these poor, timorous people have any notion of resisting.  I only trust that they may make up their minds to concede what is requisite at once, and enable us all to have done with it.

May 28th.—­The last news from Canton shows that the kind of panic which had been, in my opinion most needlessly, got up, is subsiding, and the General has sent up a few men—­for which I ought to thank him, as he had only been asked whether he could supply any if wanted.

May 29th.—­I have a short despatch from the new Government, giving me latitude to do anything I choose if I will only finish the affair.  Meanwhile Frederick writes from Tientsin to recommend me to proceed thither, and I intend to be off this afternoon.  There appears to be on the part of the Chinese no attempt at resistance, but on the other hand no movement to treat.  This passivity is, of course, our danger, and it is one which slowness on our part tends to increase.  However, we must hope for the best.

[Sidenote:  On the Peiho.] [Sidenote:  Tientsin.]

Yamun, Tientsin.—­May 30th.—­Only look at my date, does it not astonish you?  I hardly yet realise to myself where I am.  I started at about 4.30 P.M. yesterday from the ‘Furious,’ crossed the bar, at the forts at the entrance of the river, picked up Gros and the French mission, whose vessel could not get on, and moved on to this place.  The night was lovely—­a moon nearly full.  The banks, perfectly flat and treeless at first, became fringed with mud villages, silent as the grave, and trees standing like spectres over the stream.  There we went ceaselessly on through this silvery silence, panting and breathing flame.  Through the night-watches, when no Chinaman moves, when the junks cast anchor, we laboured on, cutting ruthlessly and recklessly through the waters of that glancing and startled river, which, until within the last few weeks, no stranger keel had ever furrowed!  Whose work are we engaged in, when we burst thus with hideous violence and brutal energy into these darkest and most mysterious recesses of the traditions of the past?  I wish I could answer that question in a manner satisfactory to myself.  At the same time, there is certainly not much to regret in the old civilisation which we are thus scattering to the winds.  A dense population, timorous and pauperised, such would seem to be its chief product.  I passed most of the night on deck, and at about