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and symbols. To-day we see To-day we see many Union Jacks, Stars and Stripes, and French Tricolors, but to-morrow, perhaps, the Kuomintang colours will flutter from every building, for the Chinaman is quick to see which way the political wind is blowing, and to change his rôle accordingly.

of flags and picturesque signs the waterways to transport her merchandise. The greater part is borne by the Yangtse and the Whang-Pu, but the Soochow Creek, which forms for several miles the Settlement boundary, is also crowded with water transport. Up or down, according as the tide flows in or out, go the huge junks laden with merchandise flour, coal, timber, pigs, whilst two or three boatmen pole and steer, and groups of women and children sit or play amongst the bales, making their home upon the waters. In places the press of river-craft is so dense that it is easy to cross the sixty or eighty yards of water by stepping from junk to junk.

A busy money-making city, and quickly growing. All around are builders working on scaffolding. Here, as in all the world, is a shortage of houses; but the building land within the Settlement is limited, and both foreigners and rich Chinese are now being crowded outside the boundary. Beside the Bubbling Well Road is the racecourse. The stables, diningroom, bars, boxes, and stands, as big as those at Ascot, have been completed in the last six months. The course is a mile and a half round, has a good grass surface, and encloses the only open space within the Settlement. Beside it is the mud track, on which the game, sturdy, little, short-necked China ponies do their training work, and on the enclosed open space the British and Americans play golf and football.

Shanghai, although a great trading centre, has no roads leading into it other than the few made by and belonging to the municipality, which extend but a little way outside the Settlement. Even the railway station is without the boundary. So the city is like the rest of China, in that she depends on

Here, by the Soochow Creek, we are no longer in the rich shopping district, but on the borders of the slum area, which lies to the north-east. We see the labouring coolies' quarters, the great warehouses, the gas works, and the water station, while across the street is Chapei

the Whitechapel of Shanghai. Here lies the North Railway Station, to be occupied later by the Northern and Southern Chinese armies in succession. All is now quiet, and there is as yet no hint of the barbed wire and sentries so soon to stand at Markham and Thibet Road Bridges, and along Boundary and Range Roads.

As we leave the creek, the light of the misty February afternoon is fading, and in Nanking Road we find the flags taken down and replaced by myriads of coloured lights. The

the route leaves no question as to the welcome from the international community.

shops and houses of the wealthy of the cheering crowds lining Chinese, the picture palaces, and the dancing halls are glittering with red, green, and blue electric lamps.

Away to the south is the French Settlement, one of the principal residential parts of Shanghai, facing the Chinese city, and joined to the International Settlement by streets the names of which recall friendly relations with the British Avenue Edouard Sept, Avenue Haig, Avenue Foch. In all the town there is not a khaki coat to be seen on this twelfth day of February. No soldiers have yet landed, and the Shanghai Volunteer Corps is not mobilised. And, although the Municipal Council has already laid the foundations of an army by enlisting three hundred Russians, these are still busy at drill, and their uniform is not seen in the streets.

We wonder, as we return down Nanking Road, how the landing of British troops will affect the life of the inhabitants. How will the Chinese and the foreigners greet the incoming regiments? Will a general strike be declared ? This is freely foretold, for it is a weapon commonly used in these days in China. All forebodings are, however, set at rest when, on the 14th of February, the two battalions land and march to their billets-the one to the Shanghai waterworks, where mat sheds have been erected, and the other to the racecourse buildings. No general strike takes place, and the enthusiasm

Again a cold damp winter morning. Carden Bridge over the Soochow Creek, the Bund, Nanking, and Bubbling Well Roads are all thickly lined with placid inquisitive Chinese sightseers, while the windows of hotels, clubs, and offices are crowded with European faces.

As the regiments pass, with bands playing and colours flying, they are welcomed by cheer after cheer and a continual clapping of hands. Cries, also, of "Attaboy!" leave no doubt that the greeting is not entirely British. The crowd is even denser and more demonstrative where the commander-in-chief, the admiral, stands to receive the salute.

Through the shouting and cheering of the multitude runs also a quieter note of relief and thankfulness. The people of Shanghai, many Chinese as well as foreigners, are thanking God that the soldiers are actually arrived. Now is Shanghai safe from the fate of Hankow. No Chinese troops, Northern or Southern, will now overrun the Settlement, bringing murder and destruction with them. The relief and gratitude of the Shanghai people bring their natural hospitality to an amazing pitch. Officers of the incoming regiments are made honorary members of all the clubs, American and French as well as British, including also that most cheerful community-the

brotherhood of those who fought in the Great War. No officer can appear in any of these clubs without being most warmly welcomed. Invitations to dine and dance and hunt on the little China ponies are issued broadcast. The men, too, are invited to tea-parties in private houses, and canteens and hostels are organised and staffed by the ladies of Shanghai. An Amusement Committee is formed to arrange evening parties, and the members of the caste readily give their time, their money, and their talents. But for a short time the presence of the 20th Indian Infantry Brigade makes little difference to Shanghai. Khaki uniform is seen in the streets, but there are few other signs of the city coming into

a war area.


The appearance of the town does not alter, nor is the life of the large majority of the inhabitants affected. Reconnaissances are made by the soldiers, and the perimeter is divided into sectors, but, for the present, no actual defensive positions are occupied. first sign of war is the shelling of the French Settlement by a Chinese gunboat, which, on the advance of the Cantonese army, deserts from the North and joins the South. Report says that the shells are directed at the arsenal, which lies a mile and a half outside the French Settlement, and is in the hands of the Northerners. But, whether intentionally or accidentally, a number of shells

fall in the residential part of the town. True, they do not explode, and except for the partial destruction of a few walls, no damage is done.

This incident, although regarded as rather a joke amongst the soldiers, when their first rush of activity is over, is nevertheless a sign that trouble may come.

Day by day more Northern troops arrive at the North Station in Chapei, and to prevent their entrance into the Settlement it becomes necessary to post soldiers at all roads leading from that district, and gradually the perimeter begins to assume a warlike appearance.

First comes the barbed wire, miles of which soon stretch round the edge of the Settlement; then sand-bag defence posts; and finally, concrete blockhouses to give protection both from bullets or bombs, and from the weather. Comic, though perhaps nearly tragic, incidents which bring the Chinese character into strong relief occur along the perimeter. On Markham Bridge over the Soochow Creek, leading from Chinese land, there appears one morning a Northern battalion in column, with two mounted officers at its head. The British sentries on the Settlement end of the bridge stop the column, but all endeavours to induce the officers to withdraw to the other side of the creek being unavailing, a message is quickly sent to the British Police. On their arrival under the inspector,

the Chinese colonel withdraws; the barricades, manned by two

but no sooner has he disappeared and is out of the line of fire than two machine-guns are mounted by the Chinese on the bridge, and directed at the group of police now standing alone in the roadway, for the British soldiers have, at the request of the inspector, withdrawn under cover, and mounted Lewis guns in their sand-bag emplacements, and at windows overlooking the river. It is, for a short time, uncertain whether the Chinese commander will, to avoid loss of face, order fire to be opened, but the muzzles of Lewis guns in the windows and rifles peering over the sand-bags persuade him that he cannot fight, and the Chinese column withdraws.

The next day, when the passage of two Chinese generals over the same bridge in a motor is stopped, machineguns are taken from a car in rear and again mounted in the roadway; but now the threat does not last for long, and after a short parley the guns are replaced and the cars move off.

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companies of British and an Indian regiment, large crowds appear in the streets leading from the North Station, and, with all the élan of an excited mob, rush forward, firing their rifles from the hip. The mass is pouring over the barriers, and two of the defenders are wounded, before the British reply; but no sooner have a few rounds been fired than the armed rabble disappears. Some vanish down side alleys, others throw down their rifles, tear off their uniforms and accoutrements, and give themselves up. In a few minutes the only signs of the furious multitude are the litter of rags and clothing on the wire, and in the roadway the piles of rifles collected by the British soldiers, the dejected and apathetic group of prisoners seated on the blood-stained pavement, a still, pale-faced body lying where it fell under the sand-bag barrier, and several others huddled or stretched on the stones of the now deserted street.

In another place the crowd dashes through a narrow alley, held by only two British sentries, who, unable to take the quick responsibility of opening fire, receive the leaders on the point of the bayonet. They cannot, however, withstand the weight of the crowd. They and their dead victims are forced aside by the rush from behind, and the mob pours out into Range Road. Here they are quickly tackled by a corporal and his section, and, as

soon as fire is opened, they throw their rifles on the ground and surrender. The souvenirs taken by the British in this affair are Cantonese insignia, though report says that the crowds consisted of Northern troops endeavouring to enter the Settlement to escape from the victorious Southerners. Later on, the same evening, an armoured car patrolling in Chapei is continually fired on, and in extricating it from a cul-de-sac, the officer in command and one of the crew are seriously wounded.

And now is the appearance of Shanghai changed. It has become, in a sense, besieged. For no European can with safety leave the wire-enclosed Settlement, nor can the Chinese go through the lines without a pass. Certain roads are open to them at certain hours of the day; all others are closed. On the Bund near the HongKong and Shanghai Bank is a barbed wire fence, and beside it, in Avenue Edouard Sept, is a sand-bag post occupied by Japanese sailors armed with rifles.

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ing steel helmets and carrying rifles and ammunition. At the defence posts on the perimeter are large parties of men on duty, and others are strengthening the wire or erecting concrete sentry-boxes. Lorries full of soldiers are going up to the line, and others are returning to billets. Lorries, also, with rations and fuel, and Indian A.T. carts with rolls of blankets and ammunition-boxes.

Kilted soldiers are playing golf in the centre of the racecourse, and men in khaki are riding China ponies round the track, for the Shanghai Volunteer Corps is mobilised. At night, in these times, the town is deserted, for the curfew order is in force, and every citizen must be in his house before 10 o'clock. The streets, which we saw in February so crowded with rushing motors that a pedestrian must carefully wait for his opportunity to cross, are now deserted. The town is as brilliantly lit as before, but through it runs only an occasional car, which is frequently halted by picquets who require the passenger's pass, and if this be not forthcoming, escort him to the lock-up.

And here comes a patrol of the Shanghai Scottish, and round that corner creeps an armoured car.

As we think of the change on the face of Shanghai that has been wrought in the two short months since the vanguard of the Defence Force arrived, we picture also the unspeakable disaster that would have been

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