so the Christians were told to line up against the wall of the temple to facilitate the summary execution in progress.  Then a big fellow rushed out of a corner, yelling, “I have received the faith.”  Our leader looked at the man with a critical eye, and then said to him in his quietest tones, “Stand up against the wall.”  The Boxer stood up and a revolver belched the top of his head off.  With that quickness of eye for which he is distinguished, our leader had seen a few red threads hanging below the fellow’s tunic.  The man, as he fell with a cry, disclosed his sash underneath.  He was a Boxer chief.  At least thirty men were killed here.

But it was at the Western Roman Catholic Cathedral that the most exciting times up till now have been had, for there, as at the other cathedral, the Boxers have been at work.  The first relief expedition went out during the night—­that is, last night.  Headed by some one from the French Legation, the expedition managed to bring in all the priests and nuns attached to the cathedral mission.  Old Father d’A——­, a charming Italian priest, was the most important man rescued.  After having been forty years here, he surveys the present scenes of devastation and pillage with the remark, “En Chine il n’y a ni Chretiens ni civilisation.  Ce ne sont la que des phrases.”  That is what he said.

This morning a second relief corps, containing the most miscellaneous elements, tramped away stolidly in the direction of the still smoking cathedral ruins in the hopes of saving some more unfortunates, and our expectations were soon realised.  After a walk of a mile and a half, we rounded a corner with the sound of much wailing on all sides, and ran suddenly full tilt into at least two or three dozen Boxers, who have been allowed to do exactly as they like for days.  There was a fierce scuffle, for we were down on them in a wild rush before they could get away, and they showed some fight.  I marked down one man and drove an old sword at his chest.  The fellow howled frightfully, and just as I was going to despatch him, a French sailor saved me the trouble by stretching him out with a resounding thump on the head from his Lebel rifle.  The Boxer curled over like a sick worm and expired.  There was not much time, however, to take stock of such minor incidents as the slaying of individual men, even when one was the principal actor, for everywhere men were running frantically in and out of houses, shouting and screaming, and the confusion was such that no one knew what to do.  The Boxers had been calmly butchering all people who seemed to them to be Christians—­had been engaged in this work for many hours—­and all were now mixed up in such a confused crowd that it was impossible to distinguish friends and foes.  As they caught sight of us, many of the marauders tore off their red sashes and fell howling to the ground, in the hope that they would be passed by.  Dozens of narrow lanes round the ruined cathedral, which