It began last night. No sooner had the gates which pierce the Tartar
Wall been closed by the Imperial guards, who still remain openly
faithful to their duties, than there arose such a shouting and roaring
as I have never heard before and never thought possible. It was the
Boxers. The first time the Boxers had rushed in on us, it was through
the Ha-ta Gate to the east of the Legations. Last night, after having
for three days toured the Tartar city pillaging, looting, burning and
slaying, with their progress quite unchecked except for those few
hundred rifle shots of our own, the major part of the Boxer
fraternity, to whom had joined themselves all the many rapscallions of
Peking, found themselves in the Chinese or outer city after dark, and
consequently debarred from coming near their legitimate prey. (The
gates are still always closed as before.) Somebody must have told them
that they could do as they liked with Christians and Europeans; for,
mad with rage, they began shouting and roaring in chorus two single
words, "_Sha-shao,"_ kill and burn, in an ever-increasing crescendo. I
have heard a very big mass of Russian soldiery give a roar of welcome
to the Czar some years ago, a roar which rose in a very extraordinary
manner to the empyrean; but never have I heard such a blood-curdling
volume of sound, such a vast bellowing as began then and there, and
went on persistently, hour after hour, without ever a break, in a
maddening sort of way which filled one with evil thoughts. Sometimes
for a few moments the sound sank imperceptibly lower and lower and
seemed making ready to stop. Then reinforced by fresh thousands of
throats, doubtless wetted by copious drafts of _samshu_, it grew again
suddenly, rising stronger and stronger, hoarser and hoarser, more
insane and more possessed, until the tympanums of our ears were so
tortured that they seemed fit to burst. Could walls and gates have
fallen by mere will and throat power, ours of Peking would have