warfare, the visitor felt that if there were a rebel left to venture another attack, the first sound of a rifle would snap every soldier to his post, as the lights of a large hail spring out at the pressure of an electric button.

The physical superiority of the men called out many comments. A visitor to the encampment summed up his impressions as follows:

manner.

"Here were men who bore the stamp of fighters visibly about them. They were smart in person and They moved with the spring and decision which only comes of long discipline. Probably not one was less than twenty-five years of age. Many of them could look back on eight and nine years of service. While they were abundantly merry and genial, genial, they were not at all the kind of men with whom it would be wise to take liberties, especially as they are unusually large and muscular.

"In contrast with them, I recall the figures of a party of rebel soldiers, for the most part mere boys, slouching along the road, no crder, no discipline among them, a handful, one would say, of the rawest recruits. Of course, that would not be a fair description of the whole rebel force, which returned again and again with wonderful determination to the attack on those deadly intrenchments.

"But the difference between the two opponents was not only one of so many years' training. It was also a difference of race. On the one side the descendants of fertile lands and a soft climate. On the other, those who, from time immemorial have had to contend with nature for their very existence, and whose bodies have grown hard in the struggle. The sturdy camel drivers of the bleak north had been pitted against the men of the southern rice swamps."

While the fighting in the immediate vicinity of the foreign settlement was at an end, the siege of the Woosung forts-where the stream on which Shanghai stands flows into China's great river, the Yangtze-was still in progress. These forts were held by

the rebels, who now had a chance to show their ability as defenders against the northerners as assailants. But the defense was of a very different character. After a few days' bombardment by the navy, the northern troops prepared for an assault. The report runs that the commander of the forts made a proclamation to his men, telling them of the glory they would win if they resisted successfully. The besieging general offered them two hundred thousand Mexican dollars as an inducement to surrender. The men preferred to take the cash and let the credit go. Whether the above be true or false, the fact remains that the forts surrendered.

At the end of August, with the surrender of Nanking, organized armed resistance to the government at Peking came to an end. It was the last sputter of the dying revolt.

On the 10th of August, 1913, a long, black steamer, flying the American flag, was lying at anchor off the woosung bar, fifteen miles below Shanghai. The vessel had arrived in the grey of the early morning, and would remain there taking freight until the dusk of evening. Meanwhile, a party of tourists, bound for Hong-Kong, were breaking the monotony of their journey by a trip up the river in the powerful tug or tender which descends to the bar to meet the large steamships.

From the deck of the tender, the tourists watched the picturesque and curious city of Shanghai come into view-that modern commercial metropolis which European and American enterprise have combined to build on the coast of Asia. With its hundreds of rubber-tired rickshas, its thousands of busy wheelbarrows, and its long residential avenues, bordered by lines of delightful shade trees that shelter the sumptuous mansions, the city gave an impression which was at once half-Oriental and half-Occidental. Sitting in rubber-tired rickshas, which gave no sound save that made by the softly padding feet of the

the

coolies, who draw them, the party drifted through long avenues out to where rises the shrine of the Laughing Buddha. There they watched worshipers prostrating themselves before the portly idol, while droned the chant of the priest who tapped the drum and waved the lighted punk sticks.

From the temple, they were whirled back to the bund, where stalked the Sikh policemen, made conspicuous by their height, their long black beards, and their scarlet turbans. There they lingered, watching the files of wheelbarrow men and marveling at the weight of their burdens until the last minute came and the party must return to the steamer.

While walking on the bund, one of those tourists had noted a ragged excavation in the lawn of the public park. When descending the river, he mentioned it to their guide, who explained its origin, and told the story of that night of alarms when shrapnel swept the road behind the British Consulate, and shells flew over the Palace Hotel. Before the steamer was reached, he had gone on to give the whole history of Shanghai during the revolt.

His story corresponded to that which we have briefly outlined in this article. As the party prepared to board the steamship one of them said: "Your experience was very exciting, Mr. Guide, but I prefer peace."

CASSIUS GRIFFITH.