household goods lying
around them. The Customs, however, fared better than that; they were
given a small house, into which they packed themselves as best they
could. The I.G., who refused to accept any special privileges, slept
in a tiny back room and cheerfully ate the mule, which was hatefully
coarse while it was fat and unutterably tough when it grew lean.
Indeed, his marvellous adaptability to difficult conditions was soon
the talk of that little company.

To a man accustomed during a long life to habits regulated by
clockwork, the jar must have been especially sharp; yet before his
neighbours had fairly begun to wonder how he would take it, he had
made for himself a new routine of living, and he might have been
observed each day doing the same things at the same hours--smoking
his afternoon cigarette as he leaned against a favourite pillar, or
walking to and fro along a particular path--thus setting an example of
regularity in an irregular and stormy existence.

As every one expected, the Yamen soon attempted to communicate with
him. This they did several times, throwing letters over the wall
during the night. One enquired quite tenderly after the besieged;
another asked him to send a message to London saying all was well with
the Legations; a third calmly requested his advice about a ticklish
matter of Customs business. This latter he answered in detail--just
as if he had been in his own office--and then threw the reply over the
wall again. It is interesting to know, by the way, that the "writer"
who assisted him with these letters received L20 for his pains--the
highest pay ever earned by a literary man in China at one sitting.

But the message which the I.G. afterwards laughingly said was the
most important--as far as he personally was concerned--went out of the
Legation instead of coming into it. Addressed to no Foreign Office and
to no Commander-in-Chief, it contained neither diplomatic nor military
secrets. It was a domestic message pure and simple--yet sent neither
to relative nor intimate friend. His tailor was, in fact, the man who
received it. "Send quickly," the wire read, "two autumn office suits
and later two winter ditto with morning and evening dress, warm cape
and four pairs of boots and slippers. I have lost everything but am
well. We have still an anxious fortnight to weather.--HART, Peking, 5
August 1900."

What a startling effect this message from the grave must have had upon
people in Engl